“No harm done, Tessie,” Dr. Stone said, and chuckled slyly. “We’re on our way to the bank. Any message you’d like me to give Albert Wall?”
The girl colored rosily. “I usually give him my own messages.”
The wail of a siren filled the street and a police car went past them, traveling fast. Instantly the girl was across the sidewalk and through the telephone company door. The car stopped at the bank, and Joe saw a figure in blue uniform and brass buttons get out.
“Captain Tucker?” the blind man asked.
“Yes, Uncle David.”
“The bank?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tessie gone? I see. And Tucker and Pelle both in a hurry.” The doctor whistled an almost soundless whistle. “We’d better get on, Joe.”
Something had gone wrong at the bank. The boy saw that at once. A score of depositors clung together in knots on the main floor, uneasy bank clerks stood behind the bronze grille of the teller’s windows, and from some inner room came a roaring, bull voice shouting in anger. Bryan Smith, the president of the bank, agitated and flushed, appeared in the doorway of the little room, saw the blind man and cried out:
“Doctor! Doctor Stone! This way, please.”