AGNET 240

XXV AN ARREST 250

XXVI MRS. BOWMAN SPEAKS 261

XXVII THE BLOSSOM FESTIVAL 273

XXVIII THE COUNTRY CLUB BALL 293

XXIX UNMASKED 303

XXX A CONFESSION 311

XXXI THE MILLION-DOLLAR SUITCASE 320

THE MILLION-DOLLAR SUITCASE

CHAPTER I

WORTH GILBERT

On the blank silence that followed my last words, there in the big,
dignified room with its Circassian walnut and sound-softening rugs,
Dykeman, the oldest director, squalled out as though he had been bitten,

"All there is to tell! But it can't be! It isn't possib--" His voice
cracked, split on the word, and the rest came in an agonized squeak, "A
man can't just vanish into thin air!"

"A man!" Knapp, the cashier, echoed. "A suitcase full of money--our
money--can't vanish into thin air in the course of a few hours."

Feverishly they passed the timeworn phrase back and forth; it would have
been ludicrous if it hadn't been so deadly serious. Well, money when you
come to think of it, is its very existence to such an institution; it
was not to be wondered at that the twelve men around the long table in
the directors' room of the Van Ness Avenue Savings Bank found this a
life or death matter.

"How much--?" began heavy-set, heavy-voiced old Anson, down at the lower
end, but stuck and got no further. There was a smitten look on every
face at the contemplation--a suitcase could hold so unguessably great a
sum expressed in terms of cash and securities.

"We'll have the exact amount in a few moments--I've just set them to
verifying," President Whipple indicated with a slight backward nod the
second and smaller table in the room, where two clerks delved mole-like
among piles of securities, among greenbacks and yellowbacks bound round
with paper collars, and stacks of coin.

The blinds were down, only the table lamps on, and a gooseneck over
where the men counted. It put the place all in shadow, and threw out
into bolder relief the faces around that board, gray-white, denatured,
all with the financier's curiously unhuman look. The one fairly cheerful
countenance in sight was that of A. G. Cummings, the bank's attorney.

For myself, I was only waiting to hear what results those clerks would
bring us. So far, Whipple had been quite noncommittal: the extraordinary
s