A REMARKABLE BIT OF INTELLIGENCE
"You certainly beat anything I ever saw when it comes to downright luck,
and that's the truth, Dick," said Mr. Winslow, as he stepped out and
joined the other when banking hours were done; which on this day was not
until an unusually late hour.
"I am beginning to think so myself. There was that incident of the
precious kitten which I saved from drowning, and through that secured my
position in the bank; and to-day I was fortunate enough just to be
Johnny on the spot when some one was needed to jump on that little blaze
and put it out," returned the boy, wondering why the teller had waited
to see him, and anticipating some news in connection with the matter
they were planning in common.
"You are evidently monopolizing all the talent in that line just at
present, so there is hardly any show for the rest of us. Hurry up and
get through, Dick, so the field will be open. I can see easily enough
that the firm name will some day be changed to 'Gibbs & Morrison'" went
on Mr. Winslow, laughing.
"Don't look so far into the future, please; but tell me what there is
new. I've been so busy to-day that I couldn't find time to see you. I
understand that Mr. Graylock is in the hands of the assignee, and that
his creditors will be lucky to get thirty cents on the dollar. Do you
know anything about the missing securities, Mr. Winslow?" asked Dick,
wishing to draw the conversation into a channel less personal.
"I only wish I did. But nevertheless, there's a chance that something
may be done before long. I've interested Mr. Cheever in the matter,"
remarked the teller, looking down at his companion slily as he spoke, to
see what effect his words had.
Dick appeared startled.
"Why, that's the bank examiner, isn't it? What on earth interest could
he have in the matter at all? It would hardly be a part of his business
to go around hunting up lost securities; and besides, was it wise to let
him know that we have been careless in handling such things? It might
give the bank a bad name, don't you think, Mr. Winslow?" he asked,
quickly.
The teller laughed outright at this.
"You are showing wonderfully discreet abilities Richard, and I can
easily prophesy a great future for you. It happened by the merest chance
that I had met Mr. Cheever before, down in Boston, when he was known
under another name," he said, mysteriously.
"What? Mr. Cheever--isn't that his real name, and he a bank examiner?"
"So-called just at present. Dick, he begged me not to say a word to any
one in the bank, but I told him I _must_ take you into my confidence,
since we were working this thing together. He also declared that your
suspicions might be well founded, and that he would take measures to
investigate the interior of Mr. Graylock's home without that gentleman's
knowledge."
Then light suddenly burst in upon Dick.
"I begin to see what you are hinting at--he is no bank examiner at all,
but the officer Mr. Gibbs said he would have to send for!" he exclaimed.
"Exactly; a detective who is accustomed to handling such cases, and who
was once a genuine bank examiner, so that he knows just how to go about
these things so as not to excite the suspicions of bookkeeper or
tellers. Payson does not suspect the truth, nor do any of the others.
Indeed, I am not sure that even the cashier knows it. So you see he is
able to work inside the bank without suspicion being aroused as to his
real character. Of course, his idea was that it had been an inside job,
for it really seemed impossible that any one outside could have taken
the papers from the vault. As I said it happened that I knew him, and he
immediately bound me to secrecy. But after I had a chance to talk with
him this noon he drew around to _our_ opinion, to the effect that the
securities which Mr. Graylock claims were stolen from his packet never
went into the safe at all!"
Dick was vastly interested in all this news.
He had never seen a real live detective in his whole life, and the way
in which this smooth gentleman seemed to be working in his capacity as a
regular bank examiner was simply wonderful, in his opinion.
"If all this is so I don't wonder that you told him what we suspected.
And you say, Mr. Winslow that he took to the idea at once?" he asked,
breathlessly.
"Like a hungry dog does to a bone. Said he was up a tree, for it didn't
seem as if the thief could be any one in the bank, for not a trace had
been left behind. He has met Mr. Graylock--the president attended to
that, and I think that his opinion of the gentleman agrees with our own,
and that he would not put it past one of his showing, under the peculiar
conditions existing, to carry out such a clever little scheme to feather
his own nest at the expense of his creditors. More than that Mr. Cheever
says it is rather a chestnut, and has been worked often."
"But he did not happen to think of it?" interjected Dick.
"Oh! he says he would have come around to that idea after he had made
positive that none of us poor beggars in the bank had purloined Mr.
Graylock's bundle; but all the same he was mighty greedy to hear every
detail of what happened that day. He said he would have a talk with you
to-morrow, when he found a chance, seeing that I was bound to tell you
about his dual character. It's a dead secret, remember, Richard."
"Certainly, sir; I shall not speak of it to any one, but my mother."
The teller looked doubtful at first, and then smiled.
"I guess it will be all right to take _her_ into your confidence, since
she seems to be a woman in ten thousand who can keep a secret; but be
sure and impress this fact on her, Richard. You've had a great day of
it, my boy, a wonderful day. Really I envy you the pleasure of telling
how you received those honorable burns; and I'd give something to have a
pretty girl tie up my hand in her own dainty kerchief."
"Now you're joshing me again, Mr. Winslow. Of course she and her mother
felt as if they couldn't do enough for me; but then you know, that's the
way with the women folks. I'd like to have run away you see, but I had
to wait for the package Mr. Gibbs sent me after."
"You're altogether too modest, Dick. Most boys would have puffed out
with pride after doing such a thing; but I like you all the better for
it, my boy. Now, if that bank examiner finds a chance to talk with you
to-morrow, just put him wise to all you know about the happenings of
that day, especially as to what you saw at the time you peeked in
through that blessed knothole--I use that word, you understand, because
it is going to figure a whole lot in the final discovery of those
missing securities. Don't forget, now."
"I certainly won't," replied Dick, accepting the hand of the friendly
teller in his one good palm, and yet wincing with the pressure he
received.
He anticipated with keenest pleasure his meeting with his mother, and
wondered if those wise eyes of hers would note his color when she
discovered the dainty kerchief of Bessie Gibbs pinned around his left
hand--he meant to keep it always as a souvenir of that exciting time.
And so he came home at last.
Just as he expected she immediately discovered the fact of his having
his hand bound up; for little news reached the rather secluded home of
the widow, and no neighbor had chanced to hear the story of what had
happened at the home of the banker.
"What is the matter--have you had an accident, son?" She exclaimed,
taking his hand in hers.
Then she looked more closely, and he knew that she had noticed the
kerchief.
"Don't worry, mother; it's only a little burn, nothing serious at all,"
he said.
"But who put this here--a lady's handkerchief, too? Something has
happened, I can see it in your eyes. Tell me at once, Dick. What new
danger have you been in now?" she went on, putting her arm around him as
they walked toward the door.
"None at all, mother. There was just the littlest bit of fire, and I
tore down the curtains and shade, never thinking of my hands. Why, it
was all over in three seconds, I believe."
"Curtains--shade--where was this?" she asked, anxiously.
"At Mr. Gibbs' house. He sent me up after some papers, and I was just in
time to jump in and play volunteer fireman. You see they insisted on
doing my hand up in this ridiculous way, and made me promise not to take
it off until you could dress it again to-night. But it doesn't amount to
much, I give you my word, mother."
"Oh! come and sit down and tell me all about it. Supper can wait. I
believe you have been in danger and won't say so for fear of frightening
me. Did their beautiful home burn down--what a pity that would be? And
what caused it all."
"One question at a time, mom. I might as well tell you the whole story,
because I know I won't get a bite of supper until I do. But they made
too much of such a little thing, sure they did."
So Dick in his own modest way related how he had happened to be at the
door of the banker's house when the terrible accident occurred that
might have caused a severe loss if the fire had been allowed to run
riot; he even declared that he believed the flames would have died out
even though no one had come; but the fond mother, reading between the
lines, knew that she had good reason to feel proud of her boy that
night, and in her heart she undoubtedly sent up prayers of gratitude
that he had come through the incident with so little harm.
Dick kept his other news until the time when, as usual, they sat
together on the little porch, Mrs. Morrison having bound up his hand
again, and pretending not to notice how eagerly the lad secreted the
little kerchief that was now in sore need of cleansing.
Then he told of the events of the day, and Mrs. Morrison hung on his
words as if they thrilled her to the core; her boy was an actor in this
strange little drama that was being gradually unfolded, and when the
final scene was reached it would be found that Dick had had more than
his share to do with the solving of the riddle as to what had become of
Mr. Graylock's missing securities.