SUSPICIONS
Lorna Nicholet was some time doing Miss Ida's marketing on this morning.
When she finally came out of the butcher's shop and started for her car
she observed Conny Degger sitting on the Inn porch. The young man threw
away his cigarette and started up, evidently intending to greet her.
To tell the truth, Lorna was sorry to see Degger. Just at this time she
did not crave any conversation with him. Had Jackson not stepped out of
the car and crossed over the way to join the crowd before the bank, she
would have given Degger a very curt "good-morning" and told the
chauffeur to drive home.
She did not know, however, that she had any personal reason for snubbing
Degger. She sighed, and as he raised his cap nonchalantly, she offered
him a polite smile.
"At last something has struck Clinkerport to wake it up, Miss Lorna."
His bruised face was much more presentable, but the two missing teeth
made his smile sinister. Lorna had found no opportunity to question
Ralph about that fight before he had gone away. She knew but one side
of the story, yet, somehow, she failed to make herself believe that
Degger's tale had been exact.
The insinuations--more, the direct accusation--Degger made regarding
Ralph and the Devine girl seemed less reasonable the more Lorna thought
about it. She had known Ralph ever since she had known anybody. He was
chivalrous by nature, generous to a fault, kindly of motive, and always
the gentleman. Might not these very attributes of character have led
him into some entanglement with a designing girl that the latter was now
trying to take advantage of? What Lorna so well knew of Ralph's
character did not fit the college reputation Degger gave him.
Lorna's ready tongue replied with little hesitation to Degger's remark:
"What a dreadful thing! If the depositors have to lose any of their
money----"
"Oh, if the bank officers were up to date they carried burglary
insurance enough to cover the loss."
"But a hundred and forty thousand dollars!"
Degger's eyes twinkled. "Some haul--I'll say it is!" he agreed. "Those
yeggs must have been vastly astonished when they found all that in the
safe. No wonder they did not stop to tinker with the post-office."
"Oh! Have they discovered already who did it?"
"Why," laughed Degger, "of course the bank people and the local police
are running around in circles. But it is easy to understand that a
crack like this was made by a bunch of yeggs who probably came into town
last night on a hand-car. Usually such gangs tap both the bank and the
post-office in such a burg as this. But the bank yielded such a harvest
they left the P.O. alone."
"Did nobody see or hear them?"
"I did not, anyway; although I was up half the night with a toothache.
I expect I'll have to run up to Boston to see my dentist. He's put a
crown on a tooth that is kicking up rusty.
"I was up, as I say, more than once during the night doctoring that
tooth. But the Inn is on this side of the street, and our rooms--Lon
Burtwell's and mine--are at the back of the hotel. If those yeggs had
used dynamite to blow open the vault door I imagine I wouldn't have
heard it."
"My!" said Lorna, much interested after all, "I hope the poor people
won't have to lose their money. Just think! All the money Tobias and
Heppy Bassett had in the world was in that bank."
"Yes?" said Degger carelessly. "But the fact that the bank examiner is
here and has taken charge doesn't mean anything particular. The
depositors needn't be so frightened, I guess. But of course the bank
officers can't be held wholly accountable for a burglary."
"But you said----"
"They should have carried burglary insurance sufficient to cover the
cash in hand--yes. And the Clinkerport Bank probably does belong to the
American Bankers' Association, so that the best detectives in the
country will be sent out after the yeggs.
"Still, and nevertheless, every bank burglary is not satisfactorily
explained nor the burglars captured. And for a small institution like
this, it is a big loss."
"I am thankful we didn't have much on account here," said Lorna
reflectively. "I don't know about our neighbors on Clay Head. Perhaps
the Endicotts----"
"That hard-boiled egg, Ralph Endicott, will be half crazy if he's been
nipped by this," sneered Degger. "If he had money in the bank I wonder
he isn't over here now, roaring about it."
Lorna's manner changed.
"Ralph is not at home," she said rather tartly. "He has gone away."
"Indeed! When did that happen?"
"He went yesterday."
"Not so early, I guess," Degger rejoined confidently. "I saw him here
last evening."
"In town?"
"Yes. Fact is, I saw him twice. Once about nine and again an hour or
so later. I was sitting on the Inn porch and saw him pass the bank and
post-office on the other side of the street. He went slouching by under
the trees there."
"Why, Mr. Degger, I thought he left town in the afternoon."
"If he did he came back again. Of course, I did not speak to him. But
I am not likely to make a mistake in identifying him, wherever I see
him. And he couldn't have got out of town after I saw him, come to think
of it, until this morning. Not by train; for there are no trains in
either direction after the time I saw him. That's sure."
"That is strange," murmured Lorna. "I am sure the family thought he had
gone----"
She noted the oddly curious gaze Degger had fixed upon her face, and she
halted. She felt uncomfortable. She wondered what it meant--this odd
performance of Ralph's. She wished Jackson would return to the car.
But somebody did break away from the excited crowd before the bank and
cross the wide thoroughfare toward the automobile.
Ezra Crouch's bald face shone with curiosity and his glance shifted from
Degger to the girl in the car. The tale that Degger himself had told
about town, implicating Lorna Nicholet and Ralph Endicott, had been a
choice morsel under Ezra's tongue. He thought the present situation
pregnant of further gossip.
"He, he! Ain't this a queer set-to?" he wanted to know. "Those folks
that have lost money think they can _talk_ it back into their pockets.
I can tell 'em----"
"Haven't they any idea who the burglars were, Mr. Crouch?" interposed
Lorna.
"Not the fust idee. 'Nless it's Tobias. Tobias is sharp. He's found
the only clue, as they call it, that's been found so far. But that Arad
Thompson----"
"What has the skipper found, Ezra?" asked Degger, lighting another
cigarette.
"A gold knife. Found it right under that winder where the burglars
sawed through the bars."
"A gold knife!" repeated Lorna with interest. "They surely did not use
such a tool to cut the window bars?"
"Bless ye, no, Miss Lorny! But 'tis evident--an' so Tobias says--that
one o' the burgulars tore it off his watch chain when he scrambled in
over the winder-sill."
"Oh! It was a gold penknife? And he wore it on a watch chain like----"
Again she halted in the middle of a sentence. She paled and then
flushed, flashing a sly glance at Degger. He seemed not to have noticed
what she said. He was not even looking at her.
"Oh!" she whispered again, and was glad that Jackson saw her waiting and
that he hurried back to the car.
"Good-day, Mr. Degger. Good-day, Mr. Crouch," she said, as Jackson got
in and started the engine.
Lorna did not show Degger her face again. She continued to think about
that gold penknife that had been found under the bank window. Ralph
Endicott wore such a knife on his watch chain. And Degger said he had
seen Ralph in town last evening--long after he was supposed to have left
Clinkerport by train.
Of course, any thought linking Ralph with the mysterious penknife was
ridiculous. It could not be that the most evil-intentioned tongue would
dovetail Ralph's movements with the Clinkerport Bank robbery.
Yet--Lorna did not trust Conway Degger!
What would Degger say, in his sneering way, if he learned the Endicotts
were impoverished and that Ralph probably had very little money left?
Ralph had been seen by Degger in the village late the previous
evening--too late to have left town by train thereafter. Suppose that
awful Devine girl was pressing Ralph for money and threatening to
disgrace him if he did not produce it?
Was that why Ralph had left home so suddenly and mysteriously? Did he
fear disgrace? Was it because he could not satisfy Cora Devine, and so
close her lips?
If Degger's story of Ralph's misstep should be true! Supposing Degger
knew Ralph was being hounded for money he could not pay, what would he
say if Ralph was in the most remote way linked by suspicion to the bank
robbery?
Tobias Bassett meanwhile had gained entrance to the bank after some
parley with Rafe Silver, Mr. Thompson's Portuguese servant. Arad
Thompson had been skipper of a smart bark in his youth and had brought
Silver back from Fayal with him on one of his voyages. Silver was a
grim little man, black as aged mahogany, thin-lipped and gray of hair,
wearing tiny gold rings in his ears.
"This ain't nothing to do with my money, Rafe," Tobias said. "You tell
Arad Thompson I have something to tell him about them burglars."
So, after a time, the lightkeeper was admitted. Two pale-faced and
scared looking clerks were at the beck and call of the bank auditor.
The other employees of the institution, like the general public, were
shut out of the building.
In the railed-off enclosure he used as an office, and where he met the
bank's customers, Arad Thompson sat in the wheel chair, in which he
spent most of his waking hours, before his table-topped desk.
He was a big-bodied man, his torso quite filling the wide-armed chair.
His withered limbs were hidden by a soft robe, the upper edge of which
was never allowed to fall below his waistline.
He was a handsome man of a patriarchal cast of countenance, his genial
expression enhanced by waving silvery hair and a heavy beard of the same
color--that silvery hue which revealed the fact that originally the hair
of head and face had been jet black.
With his ruddy cheeks and sharp gray eyes, the bank president gave
abundant evidence of possessing, aside from his crippled limbs, a
healthy body and a thoroughly alert brain. Arad Thompson had been
studying a little red-covered memorandum book. He laid it aside as
Tobias came near.
"Well, Tobias," he asked directly, "what is it? I can answer no question
about the bank or its loss until the bank examiner makes his report."
"Not to say I ain't anxious for me an' Heppy's money--for I be. But I
will say, Mr. Thompson, that 'tain't about that I want to see you."
"So Rafe tells me."
"I was wandering around back of the bank there just now with Silas
Compton. We looked at the winder where them bars was sawed. I give it
as my opinion, Mr. Thompson, that them burglars didn't saw them bars in
two in one night--nossir!"
"I had thought of that, Tobias," said the bank president patiently.
"Don't look like it was just a gang of burglars that come in here last
night for the first time and happened to hit it lucky."
"No. I am convinced they had advice, if not assistance, in turning the
trick."
"Maybe you got your suspicions of who helped 'em?" said Tobias shrewdly.
"If I have I'm not going to tell you, Tobias."
"I don't want you should--nossir!" said the lightkeeper. "I'd just as
lief not know. But I am going to show you what I picked up under that
winder just now. Compton and Ez Crouch seen me."
The bank president sat up straighter. He flashed a glance at the little
red book. Then he looked again at Tobias.
"What is it?"
The lightkeeper brought his hand out of his pocket and displayed the
gold penknife.
"You picked that up under the window?"
"Yes."
"Any mark on it? Anything whereby the owner can be identified? Do you
know, Tobias, who it belongs to?"
"Oh, sugar!" declared Tobias. "It might not have been lost by one of
the burglars. Then again----"
Thompson took the knife, opened the blade, and turned the little toy
over and over on his palm.
"Of course," he murmured, "there might be a dozen men wearing things
like this on their watch chains----"
"Not here in Clinkerport," interposed Tobias.
"No. That's so. But there is no identifying mark."
"Look at the chain. Drefful fine links, but awful strong."
"It is platinum. An expensive chain. Not likely, after all, to be worn
by many."
"That kind of narrows suspicion down, doesn't it?" said Tobias with some
eagerness.
"It must. A platinum watch chain costs a deal of money, Tobias. There
must be an excellent watch at the other end of the chain. No ordinary
person would be likely to wear such an ornament. These burglars----"
"Maybe they stole it," suggested Tobias.
Thompson looked at the red book again. He wagged his bushy head, and
sat, tight-lipped and thoughtful.
"That is possible," he finally agreed. "But if the knife and the few
links of chain can be traced----"
"'Tis a clue," Tobias said. "Looks like somebody might be in this job
who wasn't just an ordinary burglar. Heh?"
"I'll allow that, Tobias."
"Well, that is all I had to tell you, Mr. Thompson. I reckon you'll give
the knife to the city detectives when they come?"
"Naturally. I will put all possible clues into their hands," the bank
president rejoined, glancing again at the little red book.
"Course, there may be nothing to it. But who else could have lost that
knife there without making talk about it--advertised the loss, as ye
might say?"
"True," agreed Thompson.
"Probably it belongs to somebody who is kind of a fancy dresser. No
ordinary longshore clam digger would own such a thing. I give it as my
opinion that it might have been lost by some feller--whoever he
was--that has been hangin' around the port long enough this summer to
l'arn all them burglars wanted to know about the bank, and the watchman,
and all. Heh?"
"Sounds reasonable, Tobias."
"I cal'late. And he must be one of the summer folks."
"That is so, too. Whom do you suspect, Tobias?"
The lightkeeper grinned. He wagged his head.
"Oh, sugar!" he said, paying Arad Thompson back in his own coin. "If I
am suspecting anybody, I ain't going to tell you, Mr. Thompson.
Nossir!"