Only by exerting considerable strength was he able to slide the other old ledger back. But it was different in the case of the first two. They moved at a touch. There could be but one reason. They were dummies!
As this thought flashed into Larry’s mind he reached up and, taking hold of the tops of the light ledgers, he pulled them toward him. They came away amid a cloud of dust, leaving a gaping space in the row of books.
And then something tumbled from the place they had occupied. A bag—a leather bag, which rolled over and over on the floor of the vault to the very feet of the president. The leather backs of the old ledgers had been glued to the bag, and, when Larry pulled, they came out from the row of books, bringing the bag with them. But the glue had not held well, and the weight of the bag, once it was off the shelf, had pulled it loose.
There it lay, on the floor, and Larry stood holding the backs of the ledgers, from which the covers and pages had been cut with a sharp knife. But it was the bag on which all eyes rested.
“It’s the bank’s bag! The bag that held the million dollars!” cried the president, leaning over to grasp it. “It’s the bag for which the dummy one was exchanged! What an amazing discovery!”
“See if the million is in it!” hoarsely suggested Larry.
CHAPTER XVIII
WITHERBY VANISHES
For a moment it seemed as if no one knew what to do. All stood there looking at the bag that had so suddenly, and so mysteriously, appeared.
“I—I’m actually afraid to open it,” whispered Mr. Bentfield. “Suppose—suppose the money shouldn’t be there?”
“Very likely it isn’t,” commented the lawyer dryly.