STATES-GENERAL
"And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay
And laid the wyte on Geordie."
--_Old Ballad._
That the master's eye is worth two servants had ever been Lake's
favorite maxim. He had not yet gone to bed when the message reached
him, where he kept his masterly eye on the proper closing up of the
ballroom. He came through the crowd now, shouldering his way roughly,
still in his police costume--helmet, tunic and belt. In his wake came
the sheriff, who had just arrived, scorching to the scene on his trusty
wheel.
On the bank steps, Lake turned to face the crowd. His strong canine jaw
was set to stubborn fighting lines; the helmet did not wholly hide the
black frown or the swollen veins at his temple.
"Come in, Thompson, and help the sheriff size the thing up--and
you, Alec"--he stabbed the air at his choice with a strong blunt
finger--"and Turnbull--you, Clarke--and you.... Bassett, you keep the
door. Admit no one!"
Lake was the local great man. Never had he appeared to such advantage
to his admirers; never had his ascendency seemed so unquestioned and so
justified. As he stood beside the sheriff in the growing light, the man
was the incarnation of power--the power of wealth, position, prestige,
success. In this moment of yet unplumbed disaster, taken by surprise,
summoned from a night of crowded pleasure, he held his mastery, chose
his men and measures with unhesitant decision--planned, ordered, kept
to that blunt direct speech of his that wasted no word. A buzz went up
from the unadmitted as the door swung shut behind him.
Lake had chosen well. Arcadia in epitome was within those pillaged
walls. Thompson was president of the rival bank. Alec was division
superintendent. Turnbull was the mill-master. Clarke was editor of the
_Arcadian Day_. Clarke had been early to the storm-center; yet, of all
the investigators, Clarke alone was not more or less disheveled. He was
faultlessly appareled--even to the long Prince Albert and black string
tie--in which, indeed, report said, he slept.
So much for capital, industry and the fourth estate. The last of the
probers, whom Lake had drafted merely by the slighting personal pronoun
"you," was nevertheless identifiable in private life by the name of
Billy White--being, indeed, none other than our old friend the devil.
His indigenous mustache still retained a Mephistophelian twist; he was
becomingly arrayed in slippers, pajamas and a pink bathrobe, girdled at
the waist with a most unhermitlike cord, having gone early and surly
to bed. In this improvised committee he fitly represented Society:
while the sheriff represented society at large and, ex officio, that
incautious portion under duress. Yet one element was unrepresented;
for Lake made a mistake which other great men have made--of failing to
reckon with the masterless men, who dwell without the wall.
Lake led the way.
"Will the watchman die, Alec, d'you think?" whispered Billy, as they
filed through the grilled door to the counting room.
"Don't know. Hope not. Game old rooster. Good watchman, too," said
Turnbull, the mill-superintendent.
Lake turned on the lights. The wall-safe was blown open; fragments of
the door were scattered among the overturned chairs.
In an open recess in the vault there was a dull yellow mass; the
explosion had spilled the front rows of coin to a golden heap. Behind,
some golden rouleaus were intact: others tottered precariously, as you
have perhaps seen beautiful tall stacks of colored counters do. Gold
pieces were strewn along the floor.
"Thank God, they didn't get all the gold anyhow!" said Lake, with a
sigh of relief. "Then, of course, they didn't touch the silver; but
there was a lot of greenbacks--over twenty-five thousand, I think.
Bassett will know. And I don't know how much gold is gone. Look round
and see if they left anything incriminating, sheriff, anything that we
can trace them by."
"He heard poor old Lars coming," said the sheriff. "Then, after he shot
him, he hadn't the nerve to come back for the gold. This strikes me as
being a bungler's job. Must have used an awful lot of dynamite to tear
that door up like that! Funny no one heard the explosion. Can't be much
of your gold gone, Lake. That compartment is pretty nearly as full as
it will hold."
"Or heard him shoot our watchman," suggested Thompson. "Still, I don't
know. There's blasting going on in the hills all the time and almost
every one was at the masquerade or else asleep. How many times did they
shoot old Lars--does anybody know? Is there any idea what time it was
done?"
"He was shot once--right here," said Alec, indicating the spot on the
flowered silk that had been part of his mandarin's dress. "Gun was held
so close it burnt his shirt. Awful hole. Don't believe the old chap'll
make it. He crawled along toward the telephone station till he dropped.
Say! Central must have heard that shot! It's only two blocks away. She
ought to be able to tell what time it was."
"Lars said it was just before midnight," said Clarke.
"Oh!--did he speak?" asked Lake. "How many robbers were there? Did he
know any of them?"
"He didn't see anybody--shot just as he reached the window. Hope some
one hangs for this!" said Clarke. "Lake, I wish you'd have this money
picked up--I'm not used to walking on gold--or else have me watched."
Lake shook his head, angry at the untimely pleasantry. It was a
pleasantry in effect only, put forward to hide uneditorial agitation
and distress for Lars Porsena. Lake's undershot jaw thrust forward; he
fingered the blot of whisker at his ear. It was a time for action, not
for talk. He began his campaign.
"Look here, sheriff! You ought to wire up and down the line to keep a
lookout. Hold all suspicious characters. Then get a posse to ride for
some sign round the town. If we only had something to go on--some clue!
Later we'll look through this town with a finetooth comb. Most likely
they--or he, if there was only one--won't risk staying here. First of
all, I've got to telegraph to El Paso for money to stave off a run on
the bank. You'll help me, Thompson? Of course my burglar insurance will
make good my loss--or most of it; but that'll take time. We mustn't
risk a run. People lose their heads so I'll give you a statement for
the _Day_, Clarke, as soon as I find out where Mr. Thompson stands."
"I will back you up, sir. With the bulk of depositors' money loaned
out, no bank, however solvent, can withstand a continued run without
backing. I shall be glad to tide you over if only for my own
protection. A panic is contagious----"
"Thanks," said Lake shortly, interrupting this stately financial
discourse. "Then we shall do nicely.... Let's see--to-morrow's payday.
You fellows"--he turned briskly to the two superintendents--"can't
you hold up your payday, say, until Saturday? Stand your men off. The
company stands good for their money. They can wait a while."
"No need to do that," said Alec. "I'll have the railroad checks drawn
on St. Louis. The storekeepers'll cash 'em. If necessary I'll wire for
authority to let Turnbull pay off the millhands with railroad checks.
It's just taking money from one pocket to put it in the other, anyhow."
"Then that's all right! Now for the robbers!" The banker's face
betrayed impatience. "My first duty was to protect my clients; but now
we'll waste no more time. You gentlemen make a close search for any
possible scrap of evidence while the sheriff and I write our telegrams.
I must wire the burglar insurance company, too." He plunged a pen into
an inkwell and fell to work.
Acting upon this hint, the sheriff took a desk. "Wish Phillips was
here--my deputy," he sighed. "I've sent for him. He's got a better head
than I have for noticing clues and things." This was eminently correct
as well as modest. The sheriff was a Simon-pure Arcadian, the company's
nominee; his deputy was a concession to the disgruntled Hinterland,
where the unobservant rarely reach maturity.
"Oh, Alec!" said Lake over his shoulder, "you sit down, too, and wire
all your conductors about their passengers last night. Yes, and the
freight crews, too. We'll rush those through first. And can't you scare
up another operator?" His pen scratched steadily over the paper. "More
apt to be some of our local outlaws, though. In that case it will be
easier to find their trail. They'll probably be on horseback."
"You were an--old-timer yourself, were you not?" asked Billy amiably.
"If the robbers are frontiersmen they may be easier to get track of, as
you suggest; but won't they be harder to get?" Billy spoke languidly.
The others were searching assiduously for "clues" in the most approved
manner, but Billy sprawled easily in a chair.
"We'll get 'em if we can find out who they were," snapped Lake, setting
his strong jaw. He did not particularly like Billy--especially since
their late trip to Rainbow. "There never was a man yet so good but
there was one just a little better."
"By a good man, in this connection, you mean a bad man, I presume?"
said Billy in a meditative drawl. "Were you a good man before you
became a banker?"
"Look here! What's this?" The interruption came from Clarke. He pounced
down between two fragments of the safe door and brought up an object
which he held to the light.
At the startled tones, Lake spun round in his swivel-chair. He held out
his hand.
"Really, I don't think I ever saw anything like this thing before," he
said. "Any of you know what it is?"
"It's a noseguard," said Billy. Billy was a college man and had worn a
nosepiece himself. He frowned unconsciously, remembering his successful
rival of the masquerade.
"A noseguard? What for?"
"You wear it to protect your nose and teeth when playing football,"
explained Billy. "Keeps you from swearing, too. You hold this piece
between your teeth; the other part goes over your nose, up between your
eyes and fastens with this band around your forehead."
"Why! Why!" gasped Clarke, "there was a man at the masquerade togged
out as a football player!"
"I saw him," said Alec. "And he wore one of these things. I saw him
talking to Topsy."
"One of my guests?" demanded Lake scoffingly. "Oh, nonsense! Some young
fellow has been in here yesterday, talking to the clerks, and dropped
it. Who went as a football player, White? You know all these college
boys. Know anything about this one?"
"Not a thing." There Billy lied--a prompt and loyal
gentleman--reasoning that Buttinski, as he mentally styled the
interloper who had mis-appropriated the Quaker lady, would have cared
nothing at that time for a paltry thirty thousand. Thus was he guilty
of a practice against which we are all vainly warned--of judging others
by ourselves. Billy remembered very distinctly that Miss Ellinor had
not reappeared until the midnight unmasking, and he therefore acquitted
her companion of this particular crime, entirely without prejudice to
Buttinski's felonious instincts in general. For the watchman had been
shot before midnight. Billy made a tentative mental decision that this
famous noseguard had been brought to the bank later and left there
purposely; and resolved to keep his eye open.
"Oh, well, it's no great difference anyhow," said Lake. "Whoever it
was dropped it here yesterday, I guess, and got another one for the
masquerade."
"Hold on there!" said Clarke, holding the spotlight tenaciously. "That
don't go! This thing was on top of one of those pieces of the safe!"
For the first time Lake was startled from his iron composure.
"Are you sure?" he demanded, jumping up.
"Sure! It was right here against the sloping side of this piece--so."
"That puts a different light on the case, gentlemen," said Lake. "Luck
is with us; and----"
"And, while I think of it," said Clarke, making the most of his
unexpected opportunity, "I made notes of all the costumes and their
wearers after the masks were off--for the paper, you know--and I saw no
football player there. I remember that distinctly."
"I only saw him the one time," confirmed Alec, "and I stayed almost to
the break-up. Whoever it was, he left early."
"But what possible motive could the robber have for going to the dance
at all?" queried Lake in perplexity.
"Maybe he made his appearance there in a football suit purposely, so
as to leave us some one to hunt for, and then committed the robbery
and went back in another costume," suggested Clarke, pleased and not
a little surprised at his own ingenuity. "In that case, he would have
left this rubber thing here of design."
"H'm!" Lake was plainly struck with this theory. "And that's not
such a bad idea, either! We'll look into this football matter after
breakfast. You'll go to the hotel with me, gentlemen? Our womankind are
all asleep after the ball. The sheriff will send some one to guard the
bank. Meantime I'll call the cashier in and find out exactly how much
money we're short. Send Bassett in, will you, Billy? You stay at the
door and keep that mob out."