"I am beginning to think so," answered the young man, dully.
"Come," said Indiman, encouragingly, "that does not sound like a confession of guilt. Don't you know?"
Mr. Sydenham shook his head. "I can't tell you," he answered, hopelessly. "My accounts were in perfect order up to January 10th, when I discovered that our bank balance showed a discrepancy of fifty thousand dollars. I covered it over for the time, hoping to find the source of the error. Five days later I told Mr. Sandford. The money was gone, and that was all that I could say."
"Let us recall the events of January 9th. Did you make your regular deposit that day, and where?"
"We keep our account at the Bank of Commerce. But that afternoon I overlooked a package of bills in large denominations. I sent another messenger over to the bank, but it was after three o'clock and the deposit was refused. The boy brought the money back to me—the package contained fifty thousand dollars."
"And then?"
"I don't know. I might have locked it up in our own safe or carried it home with me or pitched it out of the window. It is all a blank."
"Did you stay at the office later than usual that day?"
"Yes; I was busy with some of Mr. Sandford's private affairs, and that delayed me until all the others had gone. I left about five o'clock."
"And now who is V. S.? Pardon me, but the question is necessary."