e know nothing
about it. I have kept the loss an entire secret until I could call in
the help of Scotland Yard."

"A secret, Mr. Brent, with _such_ a loss!" ejaculated Mr. Narkom.
"That's surely an unusual course to pursue. When a bank loses such a
large sum of money, and in banknotes--the most easily handled commodity
in the world--and in addition a mysterious murder takes place, one would
naturally expect that the first act would be to call in the officers of
the law, that is--unless--I see--"

"Well, it's more than I do!" responded Mr. Brent sadly. "Do you see any
light, however?"

"Hardly that. But it stands to reason that if you are prepared to make
good the loss--a course to which there seems no alternative--there is an
obvious possibility that you yourself have some faint idea as to who the
criminal is, and are anxious that your suspicions should not be
verified."

Mr. Headland (otherwise Cleek) looked at his friend with considerable
admiration shining in his eyes. "Beginning to use his old head at
last!" he thought as he watched the Superintendent's keen face. "Well,
well, it's never too late to mend, anyhow." And then aloud, "Exactly my
thought, Mr. Narkom. Perhaps Mr. Brent could enlighten us as to his own
suspicions, for I'm positive that he has some tucked away somewhere in
his mind."

"Jove, if you're not almost supernatural, Mr. Headland!" returned that
gentleman with a heavy sigh. "You have certainly unearthed something
which I thought was hidden only in my own soul. That is exactly the
reason I have kept silent; my suspicions were I to voice them,
might--er--drag the person accused still deeper into the mire of his own
foolishness. There's Patterson, for instance, he would arrest him on
sight without the slightest compunction."

"Patterson?" threw in Cleek quickly. "Patterson--the name's familiar.
Don't suppose though, that it would be the same one--it is a common
enough name. Company promoter who made a pile on copper, the first year
of the war, and retired with 'the swag'--to put it brutally. 'Tisn't
that chap I suppose?"

"The identical man!" returned Mr. Brent, excitedly. "He came here some
five years ago, bought up Mount Morris Court--a fine place having a view
of the whole town--and he has lately started to run an opposition bank
to ours, doing everything in his power to overthrow my position here.
It's--it's spite I believe, against myself as well as George. The young
fool had the impude