The canner's face was livid. But before he could roar his wrath Dr.
Stone's voice sounded quietly in the breathless tension of the room.
"May I see those checks?"
"Why--" The idea of sightless eyes trying to examine handwriting
staggered Bryan Smith. "Why--why, of course, Doctor," he said weakly.
The checks crinkled faintly in the blind man's hands. Joe, watching his
uncle's face, suddenly saw a sign that sent a hot needle through his
spine. Tight, puckered lines had gathered around the sightless eyes.
"How many persons knew this check was to be paid today?" Dr. Stone asked.
"No one," Mr. Pelle answered shortly. "Things not connected directly with
the buying and selling I keep to myself."
"But if you wrote Hesset surely your stenographer----"
"I didn't write. I telephoned."
"When?"
"Last Monday evening--seven o'clock. I was alone in the office. I told
him to be here promptly at eleven this morning."
Albert Wall said: "If you'll excuse me a moment--" and was gone. Joe felt
the warning pressure of his uncle's foot upon his toe. The door of the
inner room had not been tightly closed. Craning his neck, the boy saw the
cashier at a telephone. Presently Albert Wall came back still with that
slight frown upon his face.
"This thing was planned ahead," Captain Tucker said slowly.
"Forgery is always planned ahead," Dr. Stone agreed. "Somebody knew that
at eleven this morning Pelle was to give Hesset a check. By the way,
Pelle, when you telephoned Monday evening did you tell Hesset what the
amount of the check would be?"
"Certainly. No man settles a damage claim without knowing what he's going
to get. I offered five thousand dollars; he accepted."
"So somebody knew three important facts--that you were going to pay a
check at a certain time, the exact amount of the check and to whom it was
to be made payable."
"Nobody knew it," the canner insisted.
"Except you and Hesset," the blind man said mildly.
The bandaged man, holding to the back of the chair, seemed to grow even
more bewildered. Mr. Pelle's face was thrust across the desk.
"Doctor," he rasped, "are you insinuating----"
Lady gave a low, deep-throated growl. One of the blind man's hands
touched the tawny head.
"Pelle," he asked, "how did you come to pick a Saturday morning to settle
with Hesset?"
"Any law against it?" Mr. Pelle demanded.
"No." The doctor's voice was bland. "This is a small bank. It has only
two really busy hours in the week. There is a rush from eleven to noon on
Saturday just before the week-end closing; another rush from eight to
nine Monday morning with business men coming in with their Saturday cash.
During the week there would be leisure for a cashier to scrutinize a man;
perhaps to telephone and ask, among other things, for a description. But
on Saturday, after eleven, there is pressure and haste. And in this hour
of pressure a check went through."
Mr. Pelle wet his lips nervously. Captain Tucker stood very still.
"Anything else, Doctor?" he asked.
"Why, yes." The blind man took a pipe from his pocket and filled it
slowly. "Why did Hesset bring his check here to be cashed? Why didn't he
take it back to Arlington and deposit it in his own bank?"
"Well, Hesset?" the police captain barked.
Joe saw the bandaged man grip the back of the chair with his good hand.
"I know nothing about two checks, Captain. I saw only one check. I wanted
the money in my pocket. Cash is cash. Sometimes a check you think is
good----"
Mr. Pelle's roar filled the room. "You dare say that to me, Hesset?"
Captain Tucker sprang between the two men, and Joe shrank out of the way.
Dr. Stone said: "I had better take the dog out of here. Come, Joe." It
was long past noon, and the bank was closed. Albert Wall went with them
down the long, deserted floor to open the front door and let them out.
"What do you make of this?" he asked in an undertone.
"Pelle?" the doctor asked mildly.
The cashier hesitated. "Well--yes. Five thousand dollars is a lot of
money. I know the condition of Pelle's account; business hasn't been any
too good of late and five thousand dollars might hit him hard. If he
could pay five thousand dollars with one hand and manipulate a forged
check with the other and get five thousand dollars back from the bank--.
For that, though, he'd need a confederate, somebody to go to the window
with the first check. It doesn't seem probable."
"A possibility though," the blind man said. "A great many possibilities,"
he added. "Let's not forget Hesset. Either Hesset or Pelle could have
worked this with a confederate. Or some person, unknown and unsuspected,
might be the criminal. Good day, Albert." He held out his hand.
"Good-bye, Doctor." Their hands met. The heavy door of the bank closed.
The puckered lines had come back to the sightless eyes. Man, boy and dog
came down the stone steps of the old-fashioned building. On the sidewalk
the doctor spoke.
"Joe, you could see them. How did Pelle strike you?"
"He was wild," the boy answered.
"A man may protest too much or too little," the blind man observed dryly.
"Hesset?"
"He was scared."
"So! That leaves Albert Wall. Could you see him when he left the room?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where did he go?"
"To a telephone."
"Good lad!" The doctor knocked the ashes from his pipe and walked beside
the dog in silence. "The telephone office," he said suddenly.
Joe wondered what unseen tangent of the case could bring them there. They
went up a narrow mountain of a stairway. Lady, leading, slowed and swung
her Master to the left, stopping him at the counter.
"Can you tell me," Dr. Stone asked, "what operators were on duty at seven
o'clock last Monday night?"
"We have only one girl on duty after 6:45," the manager told him, and
consulted a record. "That was Tessie Rich's night. Any complaint,
Doctor?"
"Merely a matter of information," the doctor smiled. Back in the sunlight
Joe saw that the smile was gone and that the puckers around the sightless
eyes had become intent. Dr. Stone said absently: "You must be hungry,
Joe," and they went toward a restaurant. But before they reached it there
was a rush of feet and a woman's breathless voice.
"Doctor!" It was Tessie Rich. "Why did you want to know if I was on duty
last Monday night?"
"I didn't."
"Oh!" The girl was nonplused. "But--but you asked----"
"I asked who was on duty," the doctor said gently. "Did you have any
reason to think I was asking about you?"
Subtle, hidden undertones filled the question, and the hot needle was
again in Joe's spine. The girl raised a handkerchief to her lips.
"Why--why, of course not, Doctor? Why should I?" There was something of
hysterical panic in her voice.
"Why?" the blind man asked, blandly.
In the restaurant Joe Morrow chewed on food that all at once stuck in his
throat. Why had his uncle gone to the telephone office? What hidden
spring had that visit touched and what had frightened Tessie Rich? Were
Mr. Pelle and the girl both involved? Had the canner actually signed two
checks? What about Mr. Hesset? Who had gone to the bank with the first
check and walked out with five thousand dollars in cash?
"Do you know who did it, Uncle David?"
A pipe came out of a pocket; blue smoke spiraled fragrantly about a face
that had become placid and bland.
"Joe, the bank is built on a corner--at an angle to the corner. How far
up the street can you see?"
"Quite a distance."
"As far as Pelle's factory?"
"Yes, sir."
"I know who didn't do it," the blind man said, and stood up. "And," he
added quietly, "I think I know who did."
Joe hoped it wasn't Tessie Rich. They walked out of the village and up
along the dirt road. The doctor said aloud: "If I could pick one more
link--" and left the sentence unfinished and said no more. Tree toads
made metallic clamor in the afternoon heat, and the earth smelled as
though it were baked.
A clock struck three as they entered the house. Dr. Stone paced the porch
and Lady stretched off in a patch of sun and watched him steadily. Joe
brought up a tool from the cellar and prepared to trim the hedge.
A light delivery truck stopped in the road and a young man carried a suit
up to the house.
"You're prompt," Dr. Stone said. The suit was on a hanger; the coat
brushed against his knee with a soft crinkle. He ran one hand into a
pocket and pulled out a paper. Strange! There had been nothing in the
pockets of the suit he had carried away. His hand went up quickly to feel
inside the collar. The three sharply ridged lines of thread were not
there.
"Joe!" he called. "Stop that tailor's boy----" But the driver had already
discovered his mistake. He came up the walk with the suit of gray. Joe
laid down the clippers and followed him in.
"I'll carry that up to your room, Uncle Da----What's Lady got?"
The dog had found a paper on the floor. Now she carried it to the doctor.
It crinkled in his hand.
It was a small paper, no larger than half a sheet from a note-book. Joe
watched those hands move, gently exploring, over every inch of surface.
And as the hands moved, Dr. Stone's face changed. Joe had seen that
sharp, alert expression before. It was a silent sign that, some place in
the eternal darkness of his world, the blind man had found light.
"Joe, there is writing on this paper?"
"Yes, sir." The boy looked closer and drew in a hot, throbbing breath.
"Uncle David! The same thing's written all over it. Paul Pelle, Paul
Pelle, Paul Pelle."
Dr. Stone said a soft: "Ah!" and folded the paper and put it in his
pocket. "The criminal always slips," he observed; "there's always
something forgotten." He stood for a moment whistling softly. "Care to
stretch your legs? I want a word with the tailor."
Joe's eyes, fascinated, were on the writing. That paper had fallen from
the suit delivered by mistake, and now his uncle wanted to know to whom
the suit belonged.
"Couldn't you telephone him, Uncle David?"
The blind man's mouth twitched. "The call might pass through Tessie's
switchboard," he said dryly.
The boy groped, and stumbled, and sought to find the meaning. The
afternoon sun was low; the first cool breath of evening breeze blew over
the dirt road. He waited outside while his uncle talked with the tailor;
when the man came out he was whistling.
"Police station," he said.
Captain Tucker was at his desk. "Doctor," he burst out, "this thing is
baffling. Lay those two checks side by side and you can't tell the
signatures apart. I've talked to New York. There isn't a forger known to
the police in this part of the country."