“And what happened then?” asked Dan, curiously.
“Two men came in. The third sat where you do—in the driver’s seat. It was after three, but the door had not been locked. I was alone. One of the men covered me with a pistol, and the other locked the door. Then they backed me into the vault and locked it. We had not put away the money. They got fifteen thousand dollars in bills and specie. They might have got much more had they known where to look for it. I had to stay in the vault until Mr. Crawley came in at half-past five.”
“And they sent for me,” added the pompous Somes, “and put me on the case. I remembered, of course, seeing this maroon car standing by the bank.”
“Not this car,” urged Dan, again.
“Why ain’t it?” snapped the constable.
“Because this car is the property of Mr. Briggs—and you don’t accuse him of being a bank robber, do you?”
“Mercy!” ejaculated Mr. Baird. “One of our largest depositors!”
“Well!” cried Somes. “How came you with the machine?”
Dan repeated the narrative of his adventures that afternoon and evening. Mr. Baird, of course, saw how reasonable it was, and believed him. Somes disliked to say he was mistaken.
“I think I’d better arrest him, and take the machine back to town, Mr. Baird,” he said.