The telephone bell in the outer office rang, and opening the switch
at the side of my desk I took up my stand-'phone and answered:

"Hello.  Well?"

"Hello, is this Duncan & Betts?" inquired a man's voice with a slight
foreign accent.

"Yes."

"I want to speak wit' Mister Lawrence Duncan."

"This is Mr. Duncan.  What can I do for you?"

"T'is is Mr. Martin Anderson of 196 Gramercy Park.  Yust now while I
was eating my breakwast in my rooms over my real estate office, I was
called to my telephone by Mr. George Rhodes, who is in t'e Municipal
Bank.  He is a young man who wants to marry my daughter Marie, and he
called me up to tell me t'at when he opened t'e wault a little while
ago he found t'at since he closed it t'e night before a package wit'
more t'an a million dollars in bonds was gone.  He is responsible for
t'e wault and no one else, and he called me up to tell me, and say he
did not take it, to tell Marie t'at, but he wit'drew his request for
her hand.  Now, t'en, Mr. Duncan, I don't care one tam about him, but
my daughter must not be made to come in in t'is case wit' t'e
noos-papers or t'e gossip, so I want you to go over to t'e bank and
see him and help him out in every way, yust so he keep his mout' shut
about Marie, and if t'ey lock him up I want t'at she don't get to see
him or no such foolishness.  I send you my check for five hundred
t'is morning, and I want to know all about what you do, at my house
to-night.  Will you do it?"

"Yes, I will go over at once," I answered.

"T'at is all.  Good-by--"

"Thank you.  Good-by.  I will call this evening."

"Good-by, Mr. Duncan."

My first impression as I hung up the receiver was a thrill at being
thus thrust into the centre of what appeared to be one of the biggest
cases which had transpired in years.  My second was a pleasurable
recognition of the crisp, direct, clear, and ample statement of the
matter which the old real estate man had made.  It had all been done
in two minutes or less.  It is not often that we lawyers encounter
people outside of our own and the newspaper profession who can state
anything so concisely and not lose any value in it.

At this moment, Betts, my partner, and the stenographer came in, so I
hurried over to the Municipal Bank.

Business was just beginning for the day.  I could see at a glance
over the men behind the brass screens that they as a whole did not as
yet know that the bank was a loser by a million.  The cashier's door
was open, and he was just smoothing out his morning mail in the
calmest of manners.  No one looked up as I entered; that showed
normal state of mind among the clerks.

I asked for Mr. George Rhodes, and a tall, broad shouldered,
clean-cut young chap came forward from a desk in the extreme rear of
the place and took my card through the bars.  Even with the slight
view I could get of his face, I perceived he was pale and haggard.
He opened a side door and admitted me to the anteroom of the
directors' chamber.  I told him I had come in his interest, retained
by Mr. Anderson, and stated my client's reason for sending me,
namely, to prevent his daughter's name from being mentioned in the
matter at any or all times, and asked the young man what I could do
for him.

He had been sitting running his thumb-nail precisely along the edge
of my card, and now he looked up and said, in a dull, expressionless
way:

"Really, Mr. Duncan, I have thought the matter over carefully, and
there is nothing to do."

He seemed so numbed and hopeless that I was amused.

"You surprise me, Mr. Rhodes," I said.  "Surely a thing like this can
not in itself shut off any action.  In the first place, give me the
facts.  We will see what can be done."

"The facts are few enough," he answered, simply.  "The bonds were in
a package four inches thick.  They were '90 government fours, clipped
and worth one million two hundred thousand when entered the first of
the month, three weeks ago.  They were marked with a typewritten slip
on the end and lay in the securities compartment of the vault.  Last
night, with the assistant cashier and the receiving teller, as is our
rule here, I checked the cash and books going in.  We together do not
check securities in that compartment except once every month, but I
go over them every night and morning in the way that I was instructed
by the cashier; that is, the packets are piled in alphabetical
classification, and the piling is done so that if a packet were taken
out it would make a hole which I should see at a glance, and by
reference to my list see what it was.  Last night there was nothing
missing, for the pile was perfectly even across the top, and we
closed the vault and set the time-lock.  This morning the time-lock
was still running when I arrived and the safe was absolutely just as
I left it.  When I opened the vault, I went over the securities as
usual, and, observing a slight depression in the rear tier, put my
hand on it.  It gave way enough to show something was missing, and I
checked off the packets and found the '90 governments gone.  I
checked them over three times, and then, when I had got over the
shock, went into the booth outside and telephoned Mr. Anderson just
what I have told you.  Having asked him for his daughter, I felt I
owed that to them and to myself.  The assistant cashier and the
assistant receiving teller were with me when I opened the vault, and
I checked out the books and cash so that they know the safe had not
been touched overnight; now you see it is up to me to account for
those bonds.  Mr. Anderson asked me to wait and see you before I told
the cashier.  The president is not down yet."

I had been watching him covertly as he spoke, and the instant that he
had given me the case I felt the conviction stealing over me that he
had the bonds, or had had them.  The case of a small-salaried trust
company clerk, who put four hundred thousand dollars of his
employer's money into Wall Street in four weeks, rose in my mind.  No
matter, however, whether he had taken them or not, a fifteen or
twenty years' term stared him in the face.  Perhaps he thought that
worth the gain.  I supposed that, of course, he was bonded for one or
two hundred thousand by some one of the fidelity companies, so I did
not trouble to ask him as to that.  I merely remarked, drawing on my
gloves:

"Well, Mr. Rhodes, I would advise you to put back the bonds if you
can do it without detection, or else--slide."

A red flush crept up to his temples.  It was either anger or guilt,
probably both, but he controlled himself and said almost between his
teeth, rising and turning away:

"I wish to bid you good-morning, Mr. Duncan.  You can go back to Mr.
Anderson and tell him Marie will receive a last note from me in an
hour, and now, if you will excuse me, I shall inform the cashier."

Something in his manner and the remembrance of his quixotic haste in
calling up his sweetheart's father caused a pang of remorse to shoot
through me and I put out my hand and stopped him.

"I beg your pardon, Rhodes.  I did not mean to be brutal, but the
facts--"

The tense line of his white lips relaxed into a sickly smile.

"Yes, the facts--I know.  I am not in a position to resent being
reminded of them.  But, I have made up my mind to tell the cashier."

We left the room together, and I walked with him along the outer
corridor to the cashier's door, where the stenographer said he had
gone out, and we found the president would not be down until one
o'clock.

"See here, Rhodes," I said with sudden determination, "I'm going to
do what I can in this matter.  Is there any reason why it will become
known as a matter of course?"

"The first of the month, a week from to-morrow, will be the triple
checking-up time."

"Very well, just you hold off this morning, anyhow.  You will
probably have three-quarters of an hour for lunch; meet me at Haan's
at 12:15."

"All right.  Good-morning."

After I had gone twenty yards from the bank I was sorry that I had
made the engagement.  It was not in the line of my duty to my client,
Mr. Anderson, and I was likely to become unprofitably involved with
young Rhodes.  I saw, even without thought, that there were two
alternatives.  Either he had taken the bonds or they had been removed
overnight from the vault, and I believed he was telling the truth
when he said the vault was all right in the morning, for if it had
not been, he would have eagerly seized on the circumstance; and
furthermore, the fact would have been known by the other officials
and the state of peace which I had found on entering would not have
existed.  There was but one thing to think: Rhodes had taken the
bonds, or was shielding the thief.

I related the case to Betts when I reached the office, and he laughed
incredulously:

"Say, Duncan," he said, "that is a bit too wild a tale for me.
Twelve hundred thousand dollars gone from a time-locked bank vault
overnight without opening it!  Gee!  Why don't you consult that man
Rand, Lawrence Rand, the fellow who has been untying some of those
hard knots out West?  Don't you remember the Johnstone mirror
poisoning case and the Rebstock mines affair?"

"Yes, I do.  Is Rand his name?  Where is he to be found?"

"Jordan went up to his place one night--I think it is in
Fifty-seventh Street, in some apartment house.  Here, look him up in
the telephone book."

I found him entered there.  "Lawrence Rand, Special Agent.  32088
Plaza."  And calling him up made an engagement for an hour later.

I was ushered into the reception-room of his apartment by a
dark-skinned young giant, whom I at first thought a negro, but as I
saw him in the full light and noted his straight hair and heavy
coppery features, I was surprised to find he was a full-blooded
Indian.  He was dressed in clothes that did not seem compatible with
the rank of a servant.

Rand entered with a brisk step, a frank smile on his keen face.  As
he gripped my hand I realized that far more physical power was in his
possession than one would think by his frame, of medium height and
slender almost to thinness.  It was afterward that I found every inch
of him was whipcord and steel.

We sat down in the inner room and I told him the story of Rhodes and
the bonds.  When I had finished he frowned ever so slightly and said,
"Is that all?"

I thought I had been rather explicit.  So I replied with a little
rigor: "That seems to cover the case."

"Do you know whether there is one night-watchman or two?  What is the
make of the safe?  Have there ever been any attempts at robbery of
the bank?  Are all of the members of the bank staff present this
morning?  Has the president been on the right side of the market for
the past year?"

The questions came like shots from a rapid-fire gun.  He did not wait
for me to answer.

"I see you do not know.  We will waste no time.  You are to meet
young Rhodes at lunch.  I want you to invite me, too, for I want to
see him."

We took a Sixth Avenue train to Rector Street, and at 12:15 chose our
seats in a corner compartment in Haan's.  We had been at the table a
moment when Rhodes, still very pale, entered and looked around for
me.  As I introduced him to Rand, I noticed that the latter, after
looking the bank clerk full in the eyes a second, let his gaze play
like lightning over Rhodes's head and features, and before we sat
down he even sought a pretext to step behind Rhodes and look at the
back of his head.

Rhodes was subjected to a severe questioning at once, and some of the
queries seemed to be anything but relevant, and in sum were meant to
make sure that it was impossible for any one but Rhodes to take the
bonds at any time the safe was open.  After the books and cash had
been checked out, Rhodes said, a sliding steel screen was drawn over
the approach to the vault at such times as he was not inside to get
or replace papers or securities ordered out on written slip by some
one of the officers.  He was sure the bonds could not have been given
out by mistake on a slip for other securities because the list
tallied.

"Then either you took the bonds or they were extracted from the safe
after the time-lock was set, and the time-lock being all right up to
the present minute, you are facing toward Sing Sing," summarized
Rand, tilting his cigar and spilling salt into his beer.

Rhodes looked down and swallowed hard at something in his throat, but
could not answer.

"Who made the vault, when and where?" asked Rand.

"Mahler, in 1890, in Cincinnati."

"Hm, is that so--a Mahler vault, eh?  Did I understand you to say the
watchman is an old Irishman named Hanahan, has been at the bank
twenty years and has considerable property?  How do you know about
his property?"

"When I was on accounts he always had fifteen or twenty thousand on
time deposits, and drew some large checks or made heavy deposits when
Mr. Anderson bought or sold property for him--"

"Whom did you say, Mr. Anderson?  The real estate agent who sent Mr.
Duncan to see you?"

"Yes, Mr. Martin Anderson.  He is Hanahan's agent.  They were old
volunteer firemen together in Williamsburg shortly after they came to
this country."

"Indeed!  How do you know that?"

"Well, one evening shortly after I met Marie, I went to call on her
and she said her father was not at home; that he was down at our bank
chatting with Hanahan and having a smoke.  Then she told me about
their having belonged to the same fire company.  After the old man
had taken a dislike to me and threatened to shoot me if I came to the
house again, I used to watch for Hanahan's check, for every time he
drew, I knew he was expecting to see Mr. Anderson and I would go up
to the house.  I never missed it."

Rand smiled as if he enjoyed the humor in the instance.  He thought a
moment and then said:

"Well, now, if you will go back to the bank I will be over presently
accompanied by a man from the Broadway office of Mahler's, and you
will be asked to show us the vault.  Please do not indicate that you
know me."

When Rhodes was gone, Rand turned to me quickly and said: "Mr.
Duncan, kindly go over to Mr. Robert Steele in Hargan's office in
Wall Street and tell him I sent you.  Ask him whether any government
fours of '90 have been in evidence in the market recently.  Meet me
in half an hour at the telephone booth in the Park Row drug store."

I hurried to the office of the great firm of Hargan & Company and
sent in my card to Mr. Steele with "through Mr. Rand" on the corner.
I was ushered in immediately.

"Mr. Steele, I was sent here by Mr. Rand to inquire whether there
have been any '90 government fours on the market in more than the
usual quantity recently?"

At the question he started visibly and whirled abruptly around in his
desk chair to face me.  He stared at me a moment as if weighing his
words forthcoming.

"Well--yes," he said slowly, dropping his eyes in a manner that was
anything but frank.  "Yes, there have been--some."  He paused and
looked up at me again, took off his glasses, and, wiping them
tentatively, put them on and looked me full in the face as if decided
on his course.

"Since Mr. Rand sent you, it must be all right, for we trust Mr. Rand
thoroughly here.  Tell him that a pile of them has been dumped into
the market in the past week, not into the market exactly, but Strauss
brokers had them and loans on them were used to buy Overland Pacific
at an average of 87, and when it reached 161 last Thursday, whoever
was in this pool began to take profits as nearly as we can tell and
closed out the line at an average of 157.  Of course Overland went to
136, but she is--let me see--let me see--" he looked at the tape--"is
206, so whoever held these bonds must have been outside of Strauss's
pool.  It cost us about three million dollars, and if you can tell me
any more about it I will be very grateful."

I told him there was absolutely nothing of which I knew personally.

Suddenly I remembered that I had not learned even the name of the
president of the Municipal Bank, and if Rand had asked Rhodes at
lunch I had let it slip by me.  Inwardly ashamed of my loose methods,
compared with Rand's thorough ones, I hastened to ask of Mr. Steele,
as a by-matter, being sure that he would know.  I was at the door
ready to go out when the matter flashed into my mind.

"By the way, Mr. Steele," I said, "do you happen to know the
president of the Municipal Bank--"

"J. R. Farrington Smith?"  He jerked his head around sharply toward
me as he interrupted me.  "Indeed I do."  Then he emitted a short,
grating laugh, and continued, looking at me sharply all the while:
"How odd I should be thinking of him also at that moment!  Do you
know, Mr. Duncan, that Strauss is or was his broker?  Yet, he was on
the short end of Overland very badly; that I know, to my sorrow."

He dropped his voice to a confidence-inviting tone, and said as he
leaned forward, motioning me to a chair once more:

"Come now, Mr. Duncan, why should we dissemble?  You are evidently
very well informed in this matter.  Did Smith flop and put up those
bonds to go long on Overland?  He made a pretty penny if he did.
Honestly, is that the way he played fast and loose with us?"

I remained standing and put on my hat to further signify that I was
about to go.

"Mr. Steele, to tell the truth, I did not know until a moment ago
that J. R. Farrington Smith is president of the Municipal Bank.  You
have just informed me."

He became very stiff in his manner, and turned to his papers as if
already thinking of them, and said quietly:

"Oh, then we are talking to no purpose.  Good morning, Mr. Duncan."

By a short cut and a brisk walk up Nassau Street I reached the Park
Row drug store on the minute of the half hour.  A man was in the
telephone booth talking, and just outside the half-open door was
Rand, directing the queries that the man was making.  The stranger
was evidently the man from Mahler's.  As I approached Rand motioned
me to silence.

"Well, my books show the number is D186N," the safe man was saying;
"we have no record of complaints or repairs back to '94.  Have you
any before that?--All right, I'll hold the wire.--Hello, yes.  You
have none at all.  Now, what is the pattern of the
time-lock?--Neilson patent, yes.--  Well, who superintended the
Secret Construction Room when this one was made?--The old man
himself, eh?--Where is Neilson now?--How long has he been
dead?--Well, was his brother-in-law working with him in 1890?--Wait a
moment--"

He kept the receiver to his ear and turned to Rand.

"Is there anything else you wish me to ask, Mr. Rand?"

"Inquire if there has ever been any trouble with any D class vaults.
That will be all."

The safe man repeated the question into the 'phone; received the
answer, hung up the receiver, turned around and said:

"None but an attempt to blow one open in the Produce Exchange in
Springfield.  It failed.  He says the man who controlled the secret
measurements on that set of vaults was the patentee of the time-lock
and he is dead.  The measurements are sealed and filed.  The patents
went to his brother-in-law, who worked with him, who sold them
outright to the company for a song."

"What was his name?" asked Rand, with disappointment in his voice and
manner.

"They have no record and do not remember.  He was just a drunken
thick-headed Swede."

When Rand was paying the telephone toll the clerk figured on the rate
to Cincinnati, so I knew they had been talking to the Mahler offices
at the factory.  I told Rand just what had happened in Steele's
office, and he smiled slightly and said:

"Well, well, the lost bonds or others have been used as collateral
for a week past, eh, and Farrington Smith was on the wrong side of
the market?  I do not think Rhodes will 'do any time' if he is
clever.  I have learned that he was a favorite employee of Smith's.
Let us go over to the Municipal."

At the bank, the man from Mahler's spoke a moment to the cashier and
received his permission to show the vault to "two prospective
customers," and a boy was sent to tell Rhodes that the visitors had
been accorded the courtesy.

As we passed the president's inner office door, I saw Smith at his
desk and noticed how pale and careworn he appeared.  I saw that Rand
observed it also.

Rhodes admitted us to the enclosure, and, according to Rand's
previous instructions, gave us no sign of recognition.  Rand and the
man from Mahler's examined the interior of the electrically lighted
vault.  The safe man tapped the floor all around with the stick he
carried, sounding for concealed tunneling, but the inspection was
unfruitful.  The place was in perfect order, and the lock responded
repeatedly to the safe man's skilled touch in a way that showed it
was in excellent condition.  Rand had been standing still, looking
carefully at everything within range of his keen eyes, stroking his
silver-touched hair lightly with one hand in a way I have observed
many times since.

Suddenly he pulled out his watch, looked at the dial of the
time-lock, then at his watch, then at the bank clock, an electrically
regulated affair hung on the wall.  The clock read 2 P.M. to the
second.

"I beg pardon," said Rand to Rhodes.  "What time is it by your watch?"

Rhodes took out his timepiece, and said: "I have two o'clock flat."

I now noticed that the dial of the time-lock stood 1.58:30.

"When did you notice that the clock of the time-lock was slow?"

"It is slow, isn't it?  Why, I had forgot that.  It was last Monday
morning, a week ago.  I remember I was a little late," replied Rhodes.

"Has any one swept in here since?"

Rand asked this with his eyes fixed on a dark corner at the heel of
the right door.

"No, not in the vault."

Rand stooped and put his hand into the corner.  For a moment I
thought he was picking up something, but he straightened up and
brushed his fingers one against the other as if ridding them of dust,
so I knew his hands were empty.

In a moment he signified he was through and we left the place, and at
the corner parted with the man from Mahler's.  We walked on toward my
office.

"What do you make of that?" said Rand suddenly, and I saw that he was
holding something toward me between his thumb and forefinger.  I was
sure he had put neither hand in his pockets since we had left the
bank.

The small, bright object was merely a plain, smooth-worn bit of
steel, thinner than a penny, and not as broad, with a small round
hole in the centre.  Just a tiny disk of steel.

"Did you pick that up in the vault?" I asked.

"Yes, out of that dark corner by the door."

"Why, how is that?  I saw your hands as you rose and they were empty."

"Oh, no, you were mistaken, just as that man from Mahler's was.  I
merely palmed the disk, that is all, so he could not see it.  There
is no reason why he should be on the inside of this case.  He thinks
too much of his own cleverness as it is."

"Well, what is this thing?" I said, slightly irritated at having been
so easily tricked.

"I wish I could answer that question as easily as you ask it,"
replied Rand, and relapsed into silence.

As we entered the building in which I had my office, there emerged
from an elevator car that had just descended a girl, whose appearance
caught my attention.  She was attired in a dark street suit that set
her small, trim figure to advantage, but by contrast emphasized the
pallor of her face.  Her hair was of that abundant flaxen quality so
often seen in Germans and Scandinavians, and her eyes were large and
dark blue.  They were very troubled and it was plain she had been
crying.  There was something bravely piteous in every line of her
face.  She paused a moment as if half expecting some one and hurried
out as we entered the next up-bound car.

When I went into the office, Betts came in with a slip of paper in
his hand.  After I had introduced him to Rand, he said:

"Duncan, for shame not to be in when nice young ladies call on you.
The pretty daughter of your old real estate client, Anderson, was
just here.  She has received a letter from the young fellow who took
those bonds in which he says he wishes her to forget him.  She
refuses to believe he is guilty, and has had a scene with her father,
who must have told her that he has retained you, for she came down
here demanding that you take her to see the young chap, wherever he
is locked up.  Has he been arrested yet?"

"No," I said, "he is over in the bank."

"I think he will be there for some time yet," observed Rand, looking
out the window.

"Well, she will be back in half an hour," said Betts, laying down the
strip of paper on my desk.  "She did not have a card and wrote her
name.  Excuse me, Mr. Rand, I am not through with my correspondence
yet, and it will soon be three o'clock."

As Betts went out Rand rose and looked at the strip with the name
written in a tall, delicate hand, "Miss Marie Neilson Anderson."

In a short time Miss Anderson came into the outer office and I
brought her in and closed the door.  With trembling lips and tears
constantly ready to fall, she repeated what she had already told
Betts and demanded that I arrange an interview with Rhodes at once.

I reassured her to the best of my ability.  Rand sat quiet and said
nothing.  I thought he might at least have repeated to her what he
had just said to Betts, though I could not exactly make out what were
his grounds for the statement.  Instead, just before she was leaving,
much comforted and calmer, he said:

"Excuse me, Miss Anderson, when did you last see Mr. Rhodes?"

"Oh, I have had a letter from him nearly every day, but I have not
talked with him since Sunday night a week ago, when he came to see me
at the house."

"How long have you known him?"

"Nearly two years."

"How did you meet him?"

"Why, he knew papa at the bank, and one day when papa was ill he sent
for George to come up to the house to get some papers about his
accounts and papa introduced us.  When we were first engaged, he did
not seem to dislike George, and often sat talking with him about
matters in the bank and other things."

"By the way, how old are you, Miss Anderson?"

She did not seem to mind the blunt question and replied quickly:

"I am twenty-one."

"Were you born in this country?"

"Yes, I was born in New York."

"Thank you, kindly; that is all," said Rand, and was promptly so deep
in thought that he barely rose and bowed as she left a few minutes
later.  He kept his feet and put on his hat as if he, too, were going.

"I believe you told me that you were to go to Anderson's house
to-night and report, did you not?" he asked.

"Yes, I am sorry that I can not make a better showing both for my
client and for Rhodes."

"I suppose you mean that you hoped a man of my reputation would have
offered better support to you in yours," he observed with a quizzical
smile that nettled me as he walked over to the door.

"I should like to go with you, Mr. Duncan," he continued.  "I will
meet you at the northwest corner of Gramercy Park at eight o'clock.
Will you be so kind as to bring young Rhodes with you?  'Phone him at
the bank, now, and you might come prepared for anything in the way of
a fight for--we will close up the case to-night."

He shut the door and went out.  I was wild to call him back and get
an explanation, but pride restrained me.

That evening Rhodes met me by appointment at the Fifth Avenue Hotel
and we walked over to the corner Rand had named.  We had been
standing there a moment when a carriage drove up, stopped, and Rand
alighted, followed by J. R. Farrington Smith and the brawny Indian.

I could see by the street light that Smith was very white, and the
Indian kept just at his elbow and a little behind him as they
advanced to meet us.  Rand presented me to Smith, who bowed coldly.
If Smith and Rhodes exchanged salutations I did not notice it.  Rand
said to me as we walked along to the house after he had told the
cabman to wait for him:

"Will you kindly ask Mr. Anderson to see Mr. Duncan and some
gentlemen?"

I was angry with him for a number of small things which had occurred
during the day, but more than ever now for bringing Smith into the
case, and at Anderson's house, a proceeding which would be sure to
involve Anderson and his daughter in the exposé that must occur in so
short a time.

A little maid admitted us at a door beside Anderson's real estate
office, and passed back along a narrow hall and up to a
well-furnished apartment immediately over the offices.  The maid
vanished through portières, and I judged by the sounds that she found
Anderson in the third room to the rear.  I could hear him clearing
his throat as he came.

As he stepped through the portières, I saw he was a man of fifty, of
good appearance, short and heavy, with large hands and a massive jaw.
His eyes were very small and nearly hidden by the overfolding
wrinkles about them.

"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said cheerily, looking about in a
pleasant though puzzled way.  I rose and went forward, saying:

"I am Mr. Duncan, Mr. Anderson.  I believe you know Mr. Smith and Mr.
Rhodes.  This is Mr. Lawrence Rand, with whom I have consulted in
this matter."

The Indian, whom I scarcely knew how to consider, whether companion
of Rand's or his servant, had stepped back into the shadow by the
portières, and I do not think Anderson saw him, so I made no
reference to him whatever.  I was very busy thinking just what to say
and how to say it, for Rand's bringing Smith with him showed Smith
was informed in part or wholly, and was so unexpected that I had had
no chance to ask him aside just what the situation was.  He left me
in no uncertainty.  He gracefully superseded me in the initiative by
drawing back a chair at a small table in the centre of the room, in
the full glow of the shaded light, and saying:

"Would you mind sitting here, please, Mr. Anderson?  I shall want you
to write something in a moment and it will be more convenient for
you."

Anderson sat down, as requested, and turned his face toward Rand as
if he knew where the power lay.  I could see the arteries in his neck
throbbing.  I noticed that Rhodes was very pale, and the bank
president was laboring under great excitement.

"Now, to be brief, gentlemen, we are about to adjust this matter of
the disappearance of twelve hundred thousand dollars' worth of bonds
from the vault of the Municipal Bank."

Rand spoke in a soft even voice.  I think I was the only man who
moved a muscle.  I could see that at least Anderson's blood did not
quicken any.  His eyes may have turned toward Rhodes.  I could not
tell.  Rand went on:

"Before I say anything further, I wish to remind the interested
parties that I have brought an officer with me and any violence would
be inadvisable.

"Mr. Anderson, you will kindly turn over to Mr. Smith that packet of
'90 government fours.  Mr. Smith will give you a receipt in full.
You will also give Mr. Smith your order on Strauss & Company for four
hundred thousand dollars, which is approximately what Mr. Smith lost
when caught short on Overland Pacific ten days ago, and also your
order to Mr. George Rhodes for the remainder of your profits when you
went long on Overland Pacific this last week by using the Municipal
Bank as an involuntary partner.  You will also give your consent to
his marriage with your daughter.  Mr. Duncan here will arrange the
matter of fees and that will close the incident.  _If you do not, Mr.
Smith will prosecute you and I will furnish the evidence.  If Mr.
Smith does not perform his share I will, in behalf of Mr. Rhodes,
inform the bank directors of his hand in Overland.  Kindly do as I
have requested, Mr. Anderson._"

The old fellow never changed color one whit, nor did the throbbing of
the arteries in his neck increase.  They diminished, if anything.  A
bitter sneer came on his face, and as he spoke he dropped into very
broken English.

"Vot iss diss nonsense, Meester, vot-afer-your nem-iss?  Vot a ni'ice
liddle scheme bote _Ah don't ma'eke no mohney baycoss Ah aindt got
dey bonts-s--_"

Rand held up a forefinger and the old man stopped.  He was now
breathing hard and was flushed.  Rand drew from his vest pocket and
laid on the table before Anderson the _little steel disk_.

Before Rand could speak, the portières parted, and in the opening
stood Marie Anderson, very white and drawn up to her full height.  In
one hand she extended the packet with the typewritten slip still on
the end.

"Father," she said slowly, in a low, tense voice, "here are the
bonds.  By accident I just found them in a jar on the sideboard."

With surprising quickness Anderson drew out a drawer in the table at
which he sat, snatched up a revolver, leaped to the doorway,
thrusting his daughter aside, but as he turned and fired pointblank
at Rand, who had vaulted the table to reach him, the Indian knocked
up the muzzle of the revolver from behind.  The bullet struck the
ceiling and the next instant Anderson was on the floor, helpless in
the bearlike clasp of the big red man.

The girl had reeled as if about to faint.  Rhodes had sprung to her
assistance, but she recovered herself and seemed to be anxious to get
away from her father, as if from a reptile.  Rhodes led her to the
other side of the room.

"Take the gun away from him and set him on the chair again, Tom,"
said Rand, as if nothing had happened.  He returned to his own seat,
and we too sat down.

In fifteen seconds the smoke floating about the ceiling was the only
sign of the crisis just passed.  Rand began again:

"In order to give you an opportunity to recover your composure before
you begin writing, Mr. Anderson, and to prevent your indulging in any
more foolish lies, I will tell you the evidence against you.  You
helped your brother-in-law, Neilson, make the time-lock on the vault
ordered for the Municipal Bank in 1890.  You inserted in the journal
of the main standard of the clock works a steel disk instead of a
brass one, knowing that the steel against steel would make a friction
that would wear out both in several years' time.  By means of a
second time-lock accurately duplicated, and which, if I am not
mistaken, is ticking away in that black box on the mantel behind you,
you were able to tell very nearly the very hour when you could turn
back the bolts of the Municipal vault without let or hindrance.  When
your brother-in-law died, you sold his patents to the company,
returned to New York, and began to live for the hour when you could
help yourself to whatever you wished.  You stopped drinking and
settled down.  You went into the real estate business because you
could obtain in that manner a permanent hold on Hanahan, the watchman
at the Municipal, whom you already knew, and you drew him into the
habit of seeing you on business regularly at the bank at night.  You
have his perfect confidence.  When you found that about the time you
were ready to make your haul George Rhodes would be the young man in
charge of the vault, you called him to the house on a pretext and
made him acquainted with your daughter and encouraged his visits that
you might get from him in your chats, bit by bit, knowledge of just
what to put your hand on in the short time you were in the vault, and
how to conceal the theft long enough for you to convert the
securities.  This is one of the deepest and cleverest criminal plots
of which I have ever heard.  Your life for all these years has been
devoted to it.  I am not surprised that you succeeded.  Your one
mistake was in giving so flimsy a pretext to Mr. Duncan for calling
him up and retaining him.  That attracted my attention to you.  What
you really wanted was to be able to have constant information from
Mr. Duncan when he should become Rhodes's counsel in the natural
course of events, as to efforts to explain the disappearance of the
bonds in order to defend Rhodes.  In that way you would always know
how close he was on the track of the real thief, Mr. Martin Anderson.
Few men pay attorneys $500 retaining fees to persuade young men who
really love their daughters from dragging them into a scandal which
does not essentially concern the daughters at best.  You were
surprised into this mistake when Rhodes called you up and
crystallized your plan to force your choice of counsel on him too
hastily.

"On Sunday night a week ago you went to the bank, as your duplicate
time-lock showed you the steel disk was worn so thin a jar on the
door would cause the standard to drop and the lock to release.
Hanahan, as he told me an hour ago, went across the street for some
tobacco that Sunday night, leaving you in the bank.  In ninety
seconds you had opened the vault, taken the right packet, opened the
case of the time-lock, replaced the disk with a brass one, closed the
case, and closed the vault, but--_you carelessly dropped this worn
disk on the floor_.

"You used the bonds as collateral to buy stock, not as a speculation,
but as an investment that would conceal the bonds, and by chance
chose Overland Pacific at a low figure and it rose.  You thought best
to take your profits, and only your greed prevented you from
returning the bonds to Rhodes by mail.  As we have seen, you had not
thought long enough or deeply enough what you would do with your
lifetime harvest after you got it in your hands, and suddenly you
found yourself out of your depth.  You hid the bonds in a jar, just
like a foolish old woman.  But I must compliment you on your clear
thinking and previous planning.  I have never known of anything so
deliberate, and only a phlegmatic Scandinavian would be capable of
it, especially to end up with such good nerves as you have shown
to-night.  Mr. Smith does not wish to prosecute you and expose his
speculations.  Since Mr. Smith and Mr. Duncan doubtless have other
engagements to-night, kindly write as I requested a few minutes ago."

Muttering objurgations in his native tongue, Anderson wrote the two
drafts, Rhodes's being for more than one hundred thousand, and both
Rhodes and Smith receipted.  Smith took the bonds and thrust them
into his overcoat pocket.  Miss Anderson refused to remain an hour
longer under her father's roof, and left the house to go to the home
of a distant relative.  I pocketed the odd little steel disk, which
lies before me as I write, with a slip copied from a page of Rand's
notebook that lays out so plainly and simply his quick, sure, and
unerring processes in this remarkable case, that I can not refrain
from giving it.

(1) Anderson's retaining Duncan very strange.

(2) Rhodes's cranium shows moral incapacity for theft.  Innocent.

(3) Neilson's brother-in-law could know lock construction.

(4) Smith lost speculating.  Thief won half million with bonds.

(5) Time-clock lost 90 sec. Sunday night, week before discovery.

(6) Disk of steel instead of brass.  Meant to wear out.  Is discarded
part of lock.  Must be a new disk in lock.  Work of expert.  Prepared
since making of lock.

(7) Marie _Neilson_ Anderson.

(8) Anderson was alone in bank 3 min.  Sunday night of robbery.

Anderson guilty.  Proved and confessed.  Adjusted, no proceedings, by
L. R.
