But the steamboat magnate was too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts and speculations to notice the high-pitched voice with its intonation of distress.
At last Mr. Tolman could endure the situation no longer.
"This is a most unfortunate happening, Ackerman," he burst out. "I am more concerned about it than I can express. My boy and I are utter strangers to you and we have no way of proving our honesty. All I can say is that we are as much amazed at the turn affairs have taken as yourself, and we regret it with quite as much poignancy—perhaps more since it reflects directly upon us. If there is anything we can do—"
He stopped, awaiting a reply from the other man, but none came.
"Good heavens, Ackerman," he cried. "You don't mean to say you do not believe my son and me—that you suspect us of double-dealing!"
"I don't know what to believe, Tolman," owned Mr. Ackerman with candor. "I want very much to credit your story; in my heart, I do credit it. But head and heart seem to be at variance in this matter. Frankly I am puzzled to know where the contents of that pocketbook have gone. Were the things taken out before the bill book fell into your son's hands or afterward? And if afterward, who took them? Who had the chance? Donovan seems to think he has a clue, but I confess I have none."
"Hadn't you looked over the bonds and stuff since you took them home?"
"No," Mr. Ackerman admitted. "I got them from the broker yesterday and as it was too late to put them into the safe-deposit vault, I took them home with me instead of putting them in our office safe as I should have done. I thought it would be easier for me to stop at the bank with them this morning on my way to business. It was foolish planning but I aimed to save time."
"So the pocketbook was at your house over night?"
Mr. Ackerman nodded.