THE ABSCONDING TREASURER.
For a time it looked as if the millionaire newspaper proprietor meant
to resent the supposed detective’s effrontery in some way, but he
managed to swallow his wrath, and, after reseating himself and angrily
fingering his watch chain, got down to business.
Probably he had decided that it would be very poor policy to have words
with a man of Nick’s reputation, especially when he was badly in need
of the detective’s services.
After clearing his throat, he began:
“I have explained it all to Mr. Cray, here, but perhaps I had better go
over it again, in my own way. The case is in connection with the relief
fund which my papers, headed by the _Chronicle and Observer_, have
raised for the Hattontown sufferers.”
Gordon nodded almost imperceptibly. The terrible fire at Hattontown,
which had destroyed a large part of one of New England’s busiest little
manufacturing cities, had occurred while he was still in prison. He had
read of it, however, in the papers to which he had access in the prison
library, and for that reason he was familiar with the main facts.
Hundreds of residences and business blocks had been destroyed, with
an appalling property loss and a considerable loss of life, as well.
Thousands of persons, men, women, and children, had been rendered
homeless and penniless.
That was where Griswold’s chain of newspapers had taken a hand. Always
quick to respond to such emergencies—largely, it is to be feared,
for the advertising it gave them—they had started to raise a fund
for the destitute victims, and, thanks to their tremendous combined
circulations, the amount had soon attained imposing proportions.
Part of it had been paid out for the immediate needs of the victims,
but most of it, according to the latest reports Gordon had seen, was
being retained for more permanent aid, to provide work, homes, et
cetera.
What could there be about this fund, Green Eye wondered, that required
investigation, particularly an investigation prompted by the proprietor
of the newspapers responsible for it.
“As usual,” Griswold went on. “I started the fund by subscribing five
thousand dollars, and many men of substance have contributed large
sums, although none so large as that. You may or may not know that the
receipts to date total a little over a hundred thousand dollars.”
“A very neat sum, indeed,” Gordon commented, “and one that is very
creditable to those who have contributed, especially those who have
done so anonymously.”
He could not resist that slight dig, for he knew perfectly well
that Lane A. Griswold had never been guilty of making an anonymous
contribution in his life. He was never satisfied unless his name could
head the list.
Perhaps this baiting was unwise, but Green Eye did not think so. A
little of it, he felt sure, would be good for the millionaire, and give
him a wholesome fear of the supposed detective. He decided, though, to
let it go at that, for the present, at least.
As for Griswold, after swallowing hard two or three times, he evidently
determined to ignore the thrust.
“But how could a criminal case, delicate or otherwise, have arisen out
of such a philanthropic enterprise?” Green Eye queried innocently.
If pressed, he could have given a pretty shrewd guess, but it suited
his purpose just then to take another course.
“It’s simple enough—too infernally simple!” Griswold retorted
feelingly. “The money has been stolen, that’s all!”
Gordon had suspected something of the sort, but it was pleasing to
hear it put into words. A hundred-thousand-dollar relief fund reposing
safely in some bank vault was of only theoretical interest to him,
along with the hundreds of millions stored in similar vaults within
a radius of a few miles of Nick Carter’s study. A hundred thousand
dollars—or anywhere near that amount—in the hands of a fugitive from
justice was a very different matter, however. There were possibilities
in that situation.
“Ah, I’m not surprised!” Gordon remarked calmly. “How and when was the
money taken? I assume you don’t know by whom?”
“But I do—I know only too well,” Griswold told him promptly.
“You do?”
“There’s no room for doubt about it. The money was taken by a man
named John Simpson, an old and trusted employee of the _Chronicle and
Observer_.”
“How did he happen to have access to it, may I ask?”
“I made him the treasurer of the fund. I never dreamed of anything of
this sort. He had served in a similar capacity more than once in the
past, and always with the most scrupulous fidelity.”
“But how did he have possession of the whole fund, if it was collected
by different newspapers?”
“Daily drafts were sent to the _Chronicle and Observer_, as the
parent newspaper of the chain. Our New York office is the general
headquarters, you know.”
“I see. Simpson is missing, is he, along with the money?”