take much interest in his
undertaking.

Until then, in the rush of events, in the haste of gathering at the
scene of the tragedy, in the wild uncertainty as to what had happened,
nobody had taken the time to study the details of the conditions in the
bank inclosure.

Starr ordered Dorsey to stand in front of the grille door and keep out
all persons. The examiner was obliged to urge Britt to unclasp his hands
and follow him before the door was closed and locked against the crowd.

Vona had stumbled to a chair; she was staring about her, trying to
control her horror and steady her mind so that she might comprehend what
had happened. Under a stool she saw a crumpled coat; she leaped from her
chair, secured it, and sat down again. It was Frank's office coat; both
sleeves were ripped and the back breadths were torn. She held it forward
in her shaking hands for the inspection of the bank examiner. But Mr.
Starr was too intent on other matters to take heed of the pathetic proof
of violence. He was particularly concerned with what he had found in one
corner.

Literally, thousands of small metal disks were heaped and scattered
there. Some of the disks had rolled to all parts of the room. The
Prophet had been scraping up handfuls of them, inspecting them, and
throwing them toward the corner where the main mass lay.

Starr picked up some of them. They were iron; each disk was perforated.

There were many canvas sacks near the heap of disks; the sacks were
ripped and empty. Mr. Starr secured one of them. Its mouth was closed
with the seal with which specie sacks are usually secured.

But Mr. Starr saw something else in the corner, an object at which he
peered; the gloom made the results of his scrutiny uncertain. He
stooped and picked up that object, making it the third of the trinity
of exhibits. It was a large square of pasteboard, the backing of an
advertising calendar. Starr carried it to the lamp on the table. There
was writing on the placard. The characters were large and sprawling.
The bank examiner tapped his finger on the writing, calling for the
attention of the anguished president. The legend read:

This is a _hell_ of a bank!

"Britt, if this is a sample of your whole stock of specie," Starr
rumbled, holding a disk between thumb and forefinger, "the profanity is
sort of excused by the emphasis needed. I really think I would have been
obliged to say the same, after counting up."

"I can't understand it,"