THE EXPLOSION
One way in which the detectives hoped to get a trace of the man who had
the million dollars, provided that it was an employee of the bank who
had taken the money, was to note who of the institution’s force changed
his manner of living.
“For it’s a dead-sure thing,” said one of the officers, “that whoever
stole that money took it to use for himself, or his friends. The only
way you can use money is to spend it, and, sooner or later the thief
will be spending that money. He’ll do it lavishly, too, and then we’ll
get a line on our man.
“It would be easier, and we could trace him quicker, if we knew the
numbers of the bank-notes that were taken. But they don’t do things
here the way they do in England. There the big bills can be kept track
of by their numbers, and many a thief has been caught by that method.
“Of course our money is numbered, but no one ever thinks to make a
memoranda of the figures, so that it’s almost impossible to trace a
stolen note.
“However, there’s one thing that’s in our favor. Thousand-dollar bills
aren’t common, and as soon as the thief begins to pass them out he’s
going to be looked on with suspicion. It may be a long time, but it’ll
come sooner or later,” finished the sleuth.
There was considerable truth in this theory, as Larry well knew. But he
made up his mind he could not sit around waiting for the thief to spend
some of the money.
“I’ve got to get quicker action than that,” decided the young reporter.
“What puzzles me, though, is why the thief hasn’t made a move toward
getting away before this. If he’s still working in the bank, and I’m
sure he is, he must be as nervous as a cat for fear some false move
will give him away. It’s like sleeping over a powder mine, not knowing
what minute it may explode. It must be an awful strain.”
Then Larry, in his mind, went over all the employees on whom, by any
stretch of the imagination, suspicion might fall. He could recall none
who acted as though they feared arrest at any moment.
“Whoever he is, he’s a star actor, and he ought to go on the stage,”
decided the young reporter.
The days dragged by. The great bank mystery was all but forgotten by
the general public, for other matters filled the newspapers, and it has
to be a wonderful piece of news that can keep its place on the front
page for more than a week.
Still, Larry managed to get new items from the case every day. If it
was not something about his own special assignment to it, he could
generally depend on the police to furnish something of interest.
The search for the thief had spread over the whole United States, and
to foreign countries as well. But, several weeks after the robbery,
there was no more trace of the thief and the missing million dollars
than on the first day. It was as if the man and the money had jumped
into the sea.
Of course, in a way, a lookout was kept for the man with the beard,
who had purchased the valise of Miss Mason, but he was not found.
For a time Larry thought to connect him with the sneak-thief at the
boarding-house, but he could not do so, and finally concluded that he
was wrong on this theory.
From the police of Hackenford, Larry learned that not a thing had been
stolen from the boarding-house. Mr. Witherby had returned shortly after
Larry left, it was said, and stated that nothing in his room had been
disturbed. It was the same with the other lodgers.
“I guess the landlady and I frightened the fellow away before he got
a chance to take anything,” reasoned Larry, “though from the way he
stayed in Witherby’s room, juggling with that false beard, it would
seem as if he had plenty of spare time.”
Larry had not seen Miss Potter since the time he met her in Central
Park, with Witherby, though our hero had called on Miss Mason several
times. He found in her a most congenial acquaintance. One day, however,
when uptown, running down a tip he had received about a foreigner who
was spending large sums of money in the hotel district, Larry met the
millionaire’s daughter.
“Why haven’t you been to see me, Larry?” she asked, for during the time
her father was missing, and Larry was working on the case, Grace got
well acquainted with the young reporter. “Papa said he asked you to
call, some time ago, but you never did,” she went on.
“Well, I--er--that is, I fancied--” stammered Larry.
“Now I know what you’re thinking of!” she exclaimed quickly. “It’s Mr.
Witherby. Don’t deny it!” she went on, playfully shaking a finger at
Larry, who was blushing at the correct interpretation of his thoughts.
“But I want to tell you,” she went on, “that he and I were talking on
business matters when you met us.”
“Business matters?” repeated Larry.
“Yes. You know Mr. Witherby handles some stocks and bonds down at the
bank. Small lots, that borrowers bring in to sell, and which are not
important enough to take to a regular broker. Father insists that I
shall know something about business, and about investing some money
that I have in my own right, and he suggested that Mr. Witherby might
give me some advice.
“And he has done so, on several occasions. I have made a number of
investments through him, and they have all been good. It was one of
these he called to see me about that Sunday, as it was necessary to act
early the next morning.
“Besides, he is a distant relative of ours. Most of his people are
dead, and he has few friends or relatives. He has ambitions of which he
speaks but little. Father wants me to be kind to him and help him all I
can.
“It was so pleasant out of doors that I suggested we take a walk. Mr.
Witherby is engaged to some girl out West,” said Grace, with a laugh
which had a meaning of its own. “He showed me her picture. So you see,
Larry----”
“I’m sorry I haven’t called before,” he interrupted, with another
blush. “But this bank mystery takes up a lot of time.”
“Not so much but what you can go walking in the park with a pretty
girl, Larry. Who was she? I’m sure I’ve seen her before.”
Larry explained Miss Mason’s position, and then, the little
misunderstanding having been cleared away, the two friends walked on
down the street together, for Miss Potter had been shopping.
“I have to go away downtown now,” she said, after Larry had accompanied
her in several stores. “Mamma wants some kind of imported medicine,
that I can only get at a wholesale drug house on Greenwich street.”
“I’ll come along,” offered Larry. “I’m about due at the office. That
wealthy foreigner clew did not amount to anything.” Larry was also
wondering what the Witherby clew would amount to, after the remarks of
Grace, but he concluded to keep on with it in spite of what she said,
for he wanted to clear up the bank mystery.
They were soon riding down in the elevated train, as that was the
most convenient way. Talking of many things, and the bank mystery in
particular, they hardly noticed the passage of time until the train
came to a sudden stop, with a harsh grinding of brakes.
“What’s that?” cried Miss Potter.
“Something’s happened,” exclaimed Larry, his reportorial instinct on
the alert at once. “I’ll see what it is. You had better sit still.”
“No, I want to come with you,” she insisted. “I like to know how you
reporters work.”
“Very well,” assented Larry. As they walked toward the end of the car a
guard entered.
“What is it?” inquired the young reporter.
“Fire just ahead of us,” was the answer. “The flames are shooting up
near the track, and we can’t get past. We’ve got to back up to the
station we just left.”
There was no excitement as yet, and soon the passengers had left the
train, and descended to the street to continue their trips in surface
cars, or the subway.
“I think I’d better go down to that fire,” spoke Larry, with a desire
to serve his paper. “It looks like a big one,” he added, as he saw
clouds of black smoke just ahead. Flames also could be observed,
curling above the elevated structure.
“May I come?” asked Miss Potter eagerly. “I won’t get in your way, and
maybe I can help you.”
“Come along,” invited our hero, thinking that not every reporter could
have a millionaire’s daughter for an assistant.
Together they hurried down the street, which was now thronged with an
eager crowd rushing toward the fire. Several pieces of the city’s fire
apparatus were thundering along, the motor engines blowing their sirens
like a steamer’s foghorn.
“Oh, it’s the wholesale drug house where I was going to get mamma’s
medicine!” cried Miss Potter, when she saw the structure that was
ablaze.
“Wait here a minute, until I flash a bulletin to the _Leader_,”
suggested Larry. “I’ll need help if I’m to cover this. I’ll be right
back.”
He rushed to the nearest telephone, and sent in word about the
seriousness of the fire, for it was rapidly gaining. He was told
to cover it until help arrived, when he would be relieved of the
assignment.
“I have a tip on the bank mystery for you,” said Mr. Emberg, over the
wire. “Get in here as soon as you’re relieved.”
Larry hurried back to join Miss Potter. He found her eagerly watching
the blaze, and the firemen at work.
“Come,” said Larry, “we’ll get a little closer.”
His reporter’s badge admitted him inside the fire lines, and a word to
a policeman, whom Larry knew, made it easy for Miss Potter to accompany
him. She was fascinated by this near view of a big conflagration.
Larry was busy getting facts about how the blaze had started, and he
had jotted down a note about a sensational rescue of a woman clerk by
one of the firemen, when a man rushed along the press of people, crying:
“Back! Get back, everybody! The fire has eaten down into the basement,
where a lot of oils and chemicals are stored! There’ll be an explosion
in another minute! Get back!”
Police and firemen took up the cry, and began shoving the crowds out of
danger. Larry and Miss Potter moved to a place of safety.
Hardly had this been done than there came a sharp explosion from the
big drug house. It slightly shook the ground.
“That’s only the first! There’ll be more!” cried the man who had given
the alarm. “Get farther back!”
“We’d better get out of danger!” shouted Larry in the girl’s ear, for
the noise was such that ordinary tones could not be heard. “Come on!”
He took her arm to help her through the crowd. As he did so there
came a terrific explosion, and the glass in many buildings nearby was
shattered.
“This is fierce!” yelled Larry. “It’s going to make a big newspaper
story! We haven’t had a large fire in a long time.”