ant to advance any criminality. We can't strike hands with
outlaws--"

"Tell him about the suitcase, Whipple," Dykeman broke in impatiently,
rather spoiling the president's oratorical effect. "Tell him about the
suitcase."

The suitcase! Was this one of the things Barbara Wallace had let out to
her employer? She could have done so. She knew all about it.

"One moment, please," I snapped. "I've been away for a week, Mr.
Whipple. I don't know a thing of what you're talking about. Did Captain
Gilbert fail to meet his engagement with you Monday morning?"

Whipple shook his head.

"Mr. Dykeman wants you told about the suitcase," he said. "I'd like to
have Knapp here when we go into that."

Dykeman picked up the end of a speaking-tube and barked into it,

"Send those men in." In the moment's delay, we all sat uneasily mute.
Knapp came in with Anson. As they nodded to us and settled into chairs,
two or three others joined us. Nothing was said about this filling out
of the numbers, but to me it meant serious business, with Worth Gilbert
its motive.

"Get it over, can't you?" I said, looking about from one to the other of
the men, all directors in the bank. "I understand that Captain Gilbert
met his engagement with you; was he short of the sum agreed?" Again
Whipple shook his head.

"Captain Gilbert walked into the bank at exactly ten o'clock Monday
morning. The uh--uh--unusual arrangement--contract, to call it so--that
we'd made with him concerning the defalcation would have expired in a
few seconds, and I think I may say," he looked around at the others,
"that we should not have been sorry to have it do so. But he brought the
sum agreed on."

I drew a great sigh of relief. Worth's bargain was complete; he was done
with these men, anyhow. I was half out of my chair when Whipple said,
sharply for him,

"Sit down, Mr. Boyne." And Dykeman almost drowned it in his,

"Wait, there, Boyne! We're not through with you."

"There's more to tell," Whipple continued. "Captain Gilbert brought that
eight hundred thousand cash and securities in a--er--in a very strange
way."

"What d'you mean, strange way? airplane or submarine?" I growled.

"He brought it," Whipple's words marched out of him like a solemn
procession, "in a brown, sole-leather suitcase."

"_With_ brass trimmings," Dykeman supplemented, and leaned back in his
chair with an audible "Ah-h-h!" of satisfaction.

If ever a poor devil was flabbergasted, it was t