“Quite,” the doctor said pleasantly. From his pocket he drew out a paper. “Did you ever see this?”
It was the paper Lady had picked from the floor. Albert Wall’s eyes widened.
“A dangerous business, handling money,” Dr. Stone mused. “Thousands upon thousands of dollars pouring through one’s hands every day. Other people’s money. If a man has a weak spot some place inside it may get him—a fever to have some of this money for his own. If the right moment comes, or the right scheme presents itself——
“You heard about the settlement Pelle was to make with Hesset, didn’t you, Albert? The weak spot took control. You saw a chance to put your hands on five thousand dollars so cleverly that it would never be traced to you. You must have spent hour upon hour practicing Pelle’s signature. And finally you had a check that you thought was perfect.
“You could see Pelle’s factory. Saturday morning you saw Hesset go in. You may have gone to Arlington so you’d know what he looked like; you may have figured you’d know him because he would be bandaged. You saw him come out; you waited a minute or two. Then you telephoned Pelle that a man was at the window with a five thousand dollar check. Naturally Pelle said it was all right. You knew he’d say that. Hadn’t he just given the check? So you stamped ‘paid’ on the check you had forged, and placed it with the checks the bank had cashed that morning. Shortly thereafter the real Hesset appeared and you telephoned Pelle again. Oh, it was a sweet scheme, Albert. Apparently there was no come-back. Hadn’t Pelle told you to pay the first check? Could the bank be held responsible for paying a check Pelle told it to pay? In its simplicity the plan was almost genius. But—” The doctor paused. “You slipped.”
The cashier had not moved. “Doctor,” he said evenly, “your story is preposterous. You heard Pelle say he was alone in the office when he telephoned Hesset. To put a scheme like this through I would have to know in advance that a settlement had been made, when a check was to be given, and for how much. How could I know it?”
“Bryan,” the blind man said, “will you call the telephone office and ask them can they send Tessie Rich over here for a moment?”
The bank president reached for the telephone.
“Don’t do that,” Albert Wall called sharply. In a moment all the self-control had gone out of him. There was a chair behind him; he reached back and sank into it heavily. “Keep her out of it,” he said in a whisper. “I—I did it. I alone.”
Mr. Pelle wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “I thought you suspected me, Doctor?”