Mr. Leonard and the officer were closeted in close conversation. On
this occasion the latter was in his ordinary dress. The fact of the
loss of the three pieces of cloth was known throughout the store, and
there was no need of secrecy in this interview.
“The whole affair is growing more and more mixed,” he said, after
listening gravely to Mr. Leonard. “The clew lays somewhere in your own
store, but it will take time to get hold of the end of it. The parties
are very shrewd.”
“I can scarcely imagine any of my young men as being dishonest,” said
the merchant. “I have trusted them all, time and again.”
“And perhaps been robbed for years past. There is an accomplice here,
I tell you, of some party of rascals outside. Have you had your books
looked over to learn if there have been former robberies of this kind?”
“No, but I will,” was the energetic answer.
“We have been able, so far, to get no trace of the custom-house
robbers. The only description to be had of them might apply to fifty
persons we meet every day. They are not professionals; that I am sure
of. These are outside hands, but very keen ones.”
“And the forged check?”
“Was presented by the same person,” replied the officer. “The bank
teller has no recollection of the party, but the handwriting in the
check and in the warehouse entry are the same.”
“It is strange--very strange,” said Mr. Leonard, abstractedly, as he
selected several invoices from a pile of them he had taken from his
safe.
“I am going to try the suggestion you just made,” he said, proceeding
to the door.
“Harry!” he called, into the counting-room.
One of the clerks responded, coming into the room.
“I wish you to take these invoices,” said the merchant, “and compare
them with the sales of these special goods. They are the first we have
had of these styles, and the salesbook should show whether they have
all been disposed of or not.”
“I will,” said Harry, leaving the office. His tone expressed surprise
at this request.
“We will soon have that matter tested,” said Mr. Leonard. “Those are
the only goods I can think of which we have lately commenced to sell.”
They were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Wilson.
“Excuse me,” he said, coolly. “I did not know you were engaged. I have
just been down to see Claxton.”
“That will rest,” said Mr. Leonard. “Sit down. We were talking over the
mysterious robbery.”
“Is there any clew yet?” he asked, earnestly.
“Not a shadow,” said Mr. Fitler. “There is only this much very likely;
that the thief is in this store.”
“Can that be possible?” said Wilson, with perfect coolness. “And all
here have been so fully trusted. I fancy my suspicion of that boy will
prove a just one, in the end.”
“I fear it may,” replied Mr. Leonard.
“I have not even let you escape in my investigations,” said the
officer, addressing Mr. Wilson.
“What do you mean?” asked the latter, hastily, with a slight tinge of
color.
“I mean simply to turn every stone that lies in my way and see what is
under it,” said the officer, fixing his eyes upon him. “You were one
of the parties having access to that safe, and control of the stolen
warehouse order.”
“But I was absent from the city in Harrisburg,” replied Mr. Wilson, a
little hotly. “Did you trace any guilt to me?”
“I merely wrote to Harrisburg, to inquire if a man named Miles Sartain
had died and been buried on certain days named, and if one Augustus
Wilson had attended the funeral; that is all.”
“You were inquisitive, indeed,” said Wilson, in a light tone. “I was
there.”
“Yes. So I have learned. You must remember, sir, that I know nobody in
this matter. If I got you in my vise, I would squeeze you as tightly as
the meanest man in the store.”
“I hope to keep out of your vise, then,” said Wilson, laughing.
“So, as the case now stands,” said Mr. Leonard, “we have absolutely no
clew?”
“We have hold of one or two threads only, but there is nothing visible
yet at the ends of them.”
“I have been more fortunate, then. I have found some positive evidence.”
“How is that?” asked Mr. Fitler, quickly. He was at once full of eager
attention.
“I have traced a piece of the silk into the possession of a member of
my own household. No less a person than my ward, Miss Arlington.”
“Ha!” cried Mr. Wilson, in deep surprise. “How in the world did she
obtain it?”
“She had learned my suspicions first, and refused to tell me. There was
some one she evidently did not wish to implicate. Remember that I tell
you this in confidence. It is to go no further, except as I may direct.”
“Then, why mention it at all, if you are not ready to make use of it?”
asked the officer.
“Because I want your suggestions. I will not press her to reveal her
secret, but we may guess at it.”
“It is a mighty odd thing. A bit of the silk strayed a’ready into your
own house. Was she using it in any way?”
“Yes, as a bow.”
“Then she didn’t fancy there was anything wrong about it. She may have
bought it. Is there no other silk of the same pattern in the city?”
“There is not.”
“Very odd that she should make a secret of it.”
“Could she have communicated with any person from the store?” asked Mr.
Wilson.
“With nobody, I think, except the boy, Will. I sent him out to my house
the other day, and he had an interview with her.”
“It is just as I thought. Everything points to that boy,” said Wilson.
“I thought so myself,” said Mr. Leonard. “I expressed my doubts of the
boy, and she made no denial.”
“Did she admit anything?” asked the officer.
“No. She would not answer.”
“The boy may be used as a scapegoat. When did you first see the bow?”
“Last evening.”
“And has the lady been away from home since the robbery?”
“She was in the city yesterday.”
“Now we are coming to it,” said Mr. Fitler, straightening himself up.
“Who is there in the city that she would be likely to wish to screen
in such a case? What bosom friend among the ladies, or what particular
friend among the gentlemen?”
“Miss Arlington is engaged to be married. The gentleman is in business
in the city. But he is above suspicion.”
“What a very poor detective you would make,” said Mr. Fitler,
impatiently. “It is the theory of our office, sir, that nobody is above
suspicion. This man may be as innocent as she is. What we want is to
trace where _he_ got the silk. Who is he?”
“His name is John Elkton. He holds a position as principal salesman in
the store of White & Bradley.”
“What time yesterday was Miss Arlington in the city?”
“In the afternoon. Probably from two to five.”
“You must find out more definitely. I will try and learn at what hours
yesterday Mr. Elkton was out of the store. We need to establish the
fact of an interview.”
“I don’t think there is much doubt of that.”
“I want to have no doubt of it. This matter must be traced from Miss
Arlington to somebody that we can handle without gloves.”
“You will find nothing wrong about John Elkton,” said Mr. Leonard,
decisively. “You may imagine that I knew him well before consenting to
this engagement. Had I thought that the silk came from him I would not
have spoken of it.”
“You are sure it was your silk?”
“Positively sure.”
“Then you would have acted very foolishly. Little headway we would make
if we were so tender of people as that. Here is a positive clew, and
you would throw it away because you know the man it points to. We want
to see it pointing somewhere. If he can put us on another track well
and good. If he cannot, the worse for him.”
Mr. Leonard looked as if something had left a bad taste in his mouth.
“That is all we can do just now,” said the officer. “I would like to
take a turn in your cellar. That cloth robbery is the strangest part of
the whole business.”