“No,” said Gardiner. “I accuse you of nothing. Even if I had the positive evidence before my eyes I could not believe you guilty. But the situation is baffling, and I am afraid—I am afraid suspicion will be directed toward you. Let me give you the facts as I have found them and as I, of course, will be obliged to report them to the police. When I came down to the store this morning my first thought was for that package. I came at once to the safe. Before it were lying a number of half-burnt matches. This aroused my fears, and I tried the door. It was locked. I operated the combination, and it opened. Inside, this bunch of keys hung in the lock, but the cash drawer was locked. I turned the key and opened it. The package was gone. Nothing else was disturbed, but another burnt match lay in the cash box. Whoever opened that safe knew the combination. Whoever opened that safe had the key of the cash drawer. Burton, you and I are the only men in God’s world who know that combination and have the keys.”
Burton listened to this recital with growing dismay. If he had deliberately set about to put his feet in a trap he did not see how he could have done it more effectively. He realised the great weight of circumstantial evidence that was piling up against him, and in his heart he felt that Gardiner was not to be blamed for his suspicions. The incident of the smashing beer bottle again flew through his memory, recalling also his fancy that he heard a stealthy step, but what would such trifling and unsupported tales as these avail?
“At least I can explain about the keys,” he said at last. “I came into the store as I was going home last night about midnight, and I opened the safe——”
“You admit you were in the safe last night!” shouted Gardiner, in a passion of excitement.
“No, I do not admit it; I declare it. If you are determined to condemn me unheard, on the strength of evidence which is at best only circumstantial, I have nothing more to say. I suppose it is unnecessary for me to go through the formality of tendering my resignation?”
“Do not take that view of it. The shock has unnerved me and excited you; we must not do anything hastily. Notwithstanding the evidence, I believe in your innocence. To prove that I mean what I say, I will add that your resignation is not demanded, and, if tendered, will not be accepted. I shall, as you know, be obliged to report the facts as I have found them, but something new may develop, and in the meantime I ask you to go on with your work in the store as if nothing had happened. Furthermore, I apologise to you for my momentary distrust. I—I was rather upset, you know.”
Burton stood for a few moments undecided. A great darkness had arisen out of his cloudless sky of yesterday. For the present, at least, there seemed no course but to continue his service in the store, and trust that time would reveal the true solution of the robbery.
“It is very decent of you, Mr. Gardiner, to speak as you have. And as, if I were to leave your employ under the present circumstances, it might be construed unjustly toward both of us, I shall remain.”
The news of the theft from Gardiner’s safe quickly spread through the little town of Plainville. The first impulse of the citizens was to attribute the crime to bad men from “the other side,” who had chosen Saturday night for the theft, trusting to their thirty-six hours’ start to place them at a safe distance from the scene of their operations. But as it became known that no violence had been used, that the safe had been opened and re-locked, and that the contents and location of the package were secrets known to only Gardiner and Burton, the wise ones shook their heads and murmured something about the folly of placing young men in positions of great temptation. And when it leaked out that Burton’s keys had been found in the safe the street-corner clubs located the criminal without further difficulty.
The Attorney-General’s department was at once communicated with, and the local constable, Bill Hagan, was instructed to take preliminary steps pending the arrival of an officer from the city. Hagan was a harmless but inefficient individual, whose chief qualifications for his position lay in his ability to avoid trouble and vote right at election time. He made a minute examination of the safe, and announced that he had discovered a clue. Great excitement prevailed as to the nature of the discovery, but Bill’s lips were sealed. Previous attacks of this nature had been relieved by means of liberal applications of stimulants, and presently the constable found himself the centre of a circle of depositors who instituted a run on their favourite bank—the hotel bar. This unsealed Bill’s lips, but only for entrance; so far from revealing his discovery he presently forgot all about it, and his convivial friends were left with a haunting suspicion that the clue had been a ruse which had accomplished its purpose.