THE CHASE OF THEIR LIVES
It was Saturday forenoon when the officers and men of the "Alert" were
taken from the wreck. By Sunday morning the sea was running smoothly
after the short gale. On this latter morning the steamer from San Diego
to San Francisco was sighted and hailed, and Captain Jordrey and his men
were transferred to her.
At this time the "Panther" was cruising leisurely, first north, then
south, out of sight of land, and at a mean distance of some two hundred
miles from the Golden Gate.
On this Sunday morning young Gaston Giddings appeared on deck. He
appeared to have entirely recovered from his late debauch, though his
eyes lacked their natural luster. He was tastefully attired in a new
suit and topcoat taken from his wardrobe on board. He and Joseph Baldwin
walked much together, talking, and once in a while Mr. Ross joined them.
"Captain," called the owner, as young Halstead stepped on deck.
"Yes, sir," responded Tom, approaching.
"Mr. Giddings understands the part you played Friday night," went on
Mr. Baldwin, in a low voice.
"And I wish to thank you, of course," put in Giddings, holding out his
hand, though it seemed to the young skipper that his own pressure was
not very cordially returned.
"You're welcome, of course, Mr. Giddings," smiled Halstead, "though I
hope I shall never have a chance to render the same service again."
"I hope not," sighed the young man. Though Tom did not stare
impertinently, he looked into the young man's face long enough to note
the lifelessness depicted there, and the weakness of the mouth.
"It seems queer to think of such a young fellow, and such a pulseless
piece of putty, being president of a great bank," thought Tom to
himself. "However, of course, if he inherited the controlling stock, he
could see to it that he was elected to the post."
Dr. Gray, though he did not often speak to Giddings, hovered on deck,
keeping a rather watchful look over the young man.
During the afternoon Tom had occasion to go to the main cabin briefly.
Mr. Baldwin looked around from the table at which he sat with his
guests. He nodded to the young captain, then turned back to the pile of
papers that he had evidently been discussing with his guests.
"You needn't go, Captain," called the owner over his shoulder. "We are
talking business, but we know you have no ears, away from your duties.
Now, Giddings, as I've been explaining to you, we need ten million
dollars in cash to put this matter in motion. Your bank, the Sheepmen's,
then, will advance five millions on the collateral we have been
discussing, and the syndicate of banks that I have named will put up the
other five millions. That will start the matter in motion. Then, when we
come to the second step in the game, we shall have to be ready with
fifteen millions, and of this money the Sheepmen's----"
Tom Halstead heard, yet didn't hear. It was all a matter of listless
indifference to him what these men of the money world were planning in
the way of new and big enterprises. The young captain would have been
much more interested in reading the "Panther's" patent log.
"Are you certain, Giddings, that you have facilities for turning over
the five millions to us at once?" asked Mr. Ross.
"Why, we've been calling in cash for some days," replied Gaston
Giddings. "We've been preparing for this demand of yours for money.
Then, you know, we secured the whole of the Treasury Department's last
apportionment of thousand-dollar Treasury notes. We have three million
dollars' worth of these notes locked in our vaults at this moment.
That's good enough money for you, isn't it?" demanded the young bank
president, boastfully.
"Yes," muttered Ross, "if it's all there when we get back."
"What do you mean?" demanded Giddings, flushing.
"I guess you know how highly I esteem your cashier, Rollings?"
"He's all right," declared Giddings, hotly.
"As long as I don't own any stock in your bank I'm not worrying,"
replied Ross, rather shortly. "It's none of my business, young man; yet,
as one of your father's friends, I can't help being uneasy over the
thought that Rollings has the combination of your main vault."
"If he didn't have, I could hardly take these jaunts out to sea,"
retorted the young man.
"Yes, you could; Hawkins, your vice-president and your father's before
you, is a man to be trusted with anything. Hawkins could go to the main
vault whenever necessary. For Rollings to have that combination----"
"I don't want to hear any more of this!" cried Giddings, hotly, rising
from the table.
"You don't need to, then," rejoined Mr. Ross, coolly. "You know what I
_think_."
"Don't get in a huff, Gaston," put in Joseph Baldwin, briskly. "Ross has
told you, plainly, in so many words, just what other friends of yours
think of Rollings. He's an able banking man, but none of us think too
highly of his honesty. You'll find that two of your own directors, Mr.
Pendleton and Mr. Howe, who are here, agree with Mr. Ross and myself."
Mr. Howe remained silent, tapping the table with a pencil, but Mr.
Pendleton said, slowly:
"Oh, I guess Frank Rollings is all right. Still, I wish, with the
others, that he didn't have such easy access to three millions of
dollars in bills of such large denomination that the whole sum could be
carried off in a satchel."
"Gentlemen," announced Giddings, rather stiffly, "when we reach San
Francisco to-morrow morning, and find that the money is all safe, I
shall consider that I have the apology of each one of you for the doubts
thrown at my friend, Frank Rollings, behind his back."
That was the last that Tom Halstead heard, for he left the cabin. At
eight o'clock that evening, however, the young skipper received his
orders from Mr. Baldwin to make San Francisco at ten the following
forenoon. Almost to the minute the yacht's bow anchors were let go at
her usual moorings in San Francisco Bay. The power tender was lowered
over the side, to take Mr. Baldwin and his guests ashore, Quartermaster
Bickson going along to handle the boat.
"Come along with us, if you like, Captain," invited Mr. Baldwin. "After
we get through our business at the bank our party will lunch at one of
the clubs. It ought to be pleasant for you."
Tom gratefully accepted, making a swift change from his uniform to
ordinary street dress.
Gaston Giddings held his head a good deal higher than usual when he led
the party from carriages into the sombre, solid old building in which
the Sheepmen's Bank was housed. The young president conducted his party
through the long counting room and into the president's office at the
rear.
Here Giddings took command, as by right. Showing his guests to seats, he
stepped over to a massive roll-top desk, unlocking it and throwing the
roll up. Then he pressed a button on his desk. One of the bank's
messengers entered.
"Ask Mr. Rollings to come in," desired Giddings.
The messenger soon returned, to report:
"Mr. Rollings is out at this moment. Mr. Conroy, the first assistant
cashier, is at his desk."
"Mr. Conroy will do, then."
The first assistant cashier was soon in the president's office. To him
Giddings explained about the loan that had been decided upon.
"I will prepare a list, Mr. Conroy, of stable securities on which I wish
you to raise two million dollars in cash at once. But, first of all, get
Mr. Hawkins to go to the main vault with you. Tell Mr. Hawkins that I
wish the three millions in thousand-dollar notes brought here. You come
back here with Mr. Hawkins."
"Can it be delayed for just a little while, sir?" inquired Conroy. "Two
of the United States bank examiners are here, prepared to go over our
assets."
"Bring that three million here at once," rapped out Gaston Giddings,
rather sharply. "The bank examiners may come in here and help in
counting it here in my office. Now, go; carry out my orders, precisely."
Mr. Conroy departed in haste. While he was gone the two bank examiners
entered the president's room. Giddings greeted them, asking them to take
seats. Cigars were passed about by a messenger. The air was rather thick
with smoke when Conroy returned, accompanied by the aged
vice-president, Mr. Hawkins. The latter carried a satchel, which he took
to the large centre table.
"The money there?" inquired Giddings.
"Yes, sir," responded Mr. Hawkins. "I understood that you wished to look
it over here."
As Giddings laid down his cigar, moving over to the table, the two bank
examiners joined the bank's officers.
Not a very imposing-looking pile was revealed when Mr. Hawkins opened
the satchel, drawing forth the contents--three not very large packages
covered with numerous heavy seals.
"As I'll probably never see three million dollars again in my life, I'll
try to get a good look now," thought Tom Halstead, keenly alive with
interest. He sat at some distance from the table, but had a good view.
Gaston Giddings himself opened one of the packages. He broke the seals
deliberately, then unfolded many wrappings. Suddenly the contents of the
package fell to the polished mahogany surface of the table, followed by
the frenzied gaze of the young president.
"_Nothing but blank brown paper!_" he screamed, hoarsely. He collapsed,
falling with his arms across the table, his eyes bulging as though an
epileptic seizure threatened him.
With a fearful gasp Henry Hawkins snatched up another package, tearing
it nervously apart. Conroy did the same with the third package. In each
case the result was the same.
"Three million dollars worth of brown paper!" clicked one of the bank
examiners.
Gaston Giddings, moaning piteously, turned, tottering back to his desk,
where he fell heavily into his chair, next letting his head fall forward
on his arms. Messrs. Hawkins and Conroy recovered much more quickly.
They darted out into the counting room, but presently came back to
report.
Frank Rollings had been gone more than an hour. When he left, he had
carried a satchel. Some fifteen minutes before leaving the bank he had
been in the main vault, the huge steel door of which he had afterwards
closed. Conroy was now in that vault, with several subordinates, engaged
in making a rapid survey of the other contents.
In the president's room Henry Hawkins, who no longer waited to consult
the almost paralyzed young president, went swiftly to the telephone. The
Bankers' Protective Association, advised by telephone, swiftly had half
a dozen detectives scurrying to the bayside, to take up the trail at the
ferry that furnishes the sole avenue to the east. Others of these
detectives covered the docks of vessels due to sail that day from the
port of San Francisco.
Nor did the bank examiners present fail to do their duty promptly.
Within a few minutes a United States assistant district attorney and two
deputy marshals arrived at the bank.
From the first moment none who had knowledge of the affair believed
Frank Rollings, the absent cashier, to be innocent. The assistant
district attorney swiftly drew up an information, which Giddings and
Hawkins signed under oath. The law's officer rushed off to get from a
United States judge a brief warrant authorizing the arrest of the
cashier, for the Sheepmen's was a national bank, and the robbery came
under the jurisdiction of the United States courts.
Then came a telephone message from the Banker's Association:
"One of our detectives has learned that Rollings sailed, an hour ago, on
the steam yacht, 'Victor.' An observer at the Cliff House reports that
he has made out the 'Victor,' some miles from the coast, hull-down to
the southwest!"
That news electrified those in the bank president's office. They sprang
into action. Automobiles were summoned to the door of the bank. Joseph
Baldwin's same party sped back to the water front. Another 'phone
message summoned the assistant district attorney and his marshals to
meet them at the landing stage.
It was all carried through with a rush. Hardly had the last member of
the party stepped over the side of the "Panther" before Tom Halstead had
the anchors up and stowed. The young skipper himself, from the bridge,
rang the engine room bell for half speed ahead, quickly changing this to
full speed.
"Are you in the engine room, Joe Dawson?" called Skipper Tom, through
the speaking tube.
"Right on hand!" came the answer.
"Then whoop up the speed for all you're worth. Let's have it all--every
bit. We're on the chase of our lives!"
Captain Tom Halstead was still on the bridge when the Golden Gate was
left behind. He was still there, more than two hours later, when the
upper spars of a vessel believed to be the "Victor" were made out on the
far southwestern horizon.