“I hope not,” replied the doctor. “I’ve already sent advertisements to all the newspapers. The finder could not use the checks and drafts, even if he were dishonest, and my wallet was marked inside with my address in full.”
“Finder!” petulantly exclaimed the judge. “Why, Doctor, you’ve had your pocket picked. Do you suppose your reward—a thousand dollars I think you said—will make a pickpocket send back your greenbacks? Of course, you can stop payment of the other things, if you’re quick enough. I’ll take care of that myself, but how are we ever to get at the money, I’d like to know? It’s a pretty kettle of fish. You say you took a carriage and rode all the way home?”
“Yes,” replied the doctor, almost meekly, “it was after bank hours or I’d have deposited the whole thing at once. So I took a carriage and hurried home, meaning to lock it up in my own safe here, over night, and deposit it in the bank in the morning.”
“But didn’t you stop, anywhere?”
“No—yes—well, I did get out for just a minute in front of Stewart’s, to look at a fellow they said had tumbled in a fit on the sidewalk. He was a complete fraud. No fit at all.”
“I see,” exclaimed the judge. “If I could only get hold of that make-believe epileptic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mean? Why, there was a crowd, of course, all around you, behind you, close to you, as you leaned over your patient. The light-fingered gentry had it all their own way.”
“Why, Judge, I saw half a dozen men I knew, and a more respectable-looking crowd you never saw. There were even ladies in it, just come out of Stewart’s.”
“Exactly,” said the judge, “and I must see the police this very night again, and so must you. Send for a carriage, Doctor; we’ve no time to lose.”