beneath the window of Carpenter's room, and thus had at
first escaped the eyes of the police. When found, it was intact except
for the six links that had been broken from the chain and dropped the
night of the murder.

Braceway threw down the paper and went to the Pennsylvania Avenue door.

"Damn!" he addressed mentally the top of the Washington monument. "More
grist for Bristow's mill! I'm not crazy, am I? I'm not that crazy, that's
sure!"

He set out to keep his appointment with Major Ross. After all, he felt
reasonably sure of himself, and he had made up his mind to carry things
through as he originally had intended. His shoulders were well back, his
step elastic and quick. He flung off discouragement as if it had been an
over-coat too warm for that weather.

He would not permit Delaney's fiasco to annoy him. The Baltimore police
had been tipped to watch the pawnshops; Delaney probably would pick
Morley up again; and there was the extra man yet to be heard from.
Besides, Morley would break down and confess cleanly after his fright on
being arrested. Things were not so bad after all.

CHAPTER XXI

BRISTOW SOLVES A PROBLEM

Mr. Beale and Mr. Jones were, so far as their exteriors showed, nearly
back to the normal iciness of their every-day appearance when Braceway
found them in the president's office a few minutes after half-past five.
He did not have to ask what they had discovered; their faces were frank
confessions. He dropped into a chair and smiled.

"How much?"

Mr. Beale cleared his throat and moved his lips deliberately one against
the other.

"Before I say anything else, Mr.--er--Braceway, I want to express to you
not only my own gratitude but that of all the officers and directors of
the Anderson National. You have, it seems, saved us from great trouble.
As things are, they are bad enough. But you have enabled us to put our
fingers on the--ah--situation almost in time."

He glanced at Jones.

"Briefly," the vice-president took up the statement, "it has been
established, thus far, that Morley has stolen from the Anderson National
the--"

Mr. Beale's composure broke down at this. He interrupted the
subordinate's calm explanation:

"Stolen from the Anderson National! Think of that, sir! Of all the
outrageous things, of all the unqualifiedly and absolutely incredible
things! We have in our bank, on our payrolls, a thief, an unmitigated
scoundrel!" He pushed back his chair and drummed on