Part 2 (1/2)
”No; but they were kept on the same chain for convenience.”
”Were the ledger and journal on George's desk when you entered the bank, Mr. Gordon?”
”No, sir; they were put away in their usual places in the vault.”
”Did they show any marks of blood?”
”None at all; they were perfectly clean.”
”Could you tell from their appearance whether George had done any work upon them that night?”
”Yes; I am sure he had done a great deal; in fact he had finished up all entries to date.”
”Were there any papers missing besides the money?”
”Yes; one or two bundles of old checks, drafts, etc., were used to a.s.sist in burning the murderer's clothes. They were fastened in packages with fine wire, and we found the wire in the grate.”
”Then this note, signed 'Alexander P. Drysdale,' might have been pulled out of one of these packages?”
”I suppose so; I don't know where else it came from; do you, Mr.
McGregor?” said Mr. Gordon, rather bewildered.
”No; I never thought about where it came from,” said Mr. McGregor. ”I suppose the man built a fire of old papers and the fragments of the waste paper baskets, and then used that note to set them on fire from the lamp.”
”There were no papers of any value used, then?” I continued.
”Oh, no; the papers were old bundles, merely kept as archives of the bank.”
I then picked up the note and glanced at it; as I did so, something caught my eye which sent the blood throbbing through my veins at a feverish speed. Enough of the date remained to show that it was drawn some time during the year of the murder, hence it could hardly be one of the archives. Besides, a note, if paid, would be returned to the maker, canceled; if unpaid, it would be kept among the bills receivable, in the inner safe; in neither case could it have been stowed away among the old checks and drafts. This reasoning pa.s.sed through my mind quickly, and I realized that that little piece of paper might play an important part in the tragedy after all. I did not form any definite theory on the instant, but still I had a sort of presentiment that I had touched a spring which might open the windows of this dark mystery and let in the light of day. I did not show what I thought to my companions, but continued to ask questions.
”Was Mr. Patterson in the bank the day of the murder, Mr. Gordon?”
”Oh, no; he was not in this part of the country at that time; he had been in Mobile for some weeks.”
”I understood you to say that Mr. Flanders went no further than the private door with George; did he notice any one standing about when he came away?”
”No; he stopped only an instant, while George unlocked the door, and then gave the jewel box to him to put away. George wished him good night, with the remark that he could not ask him in, as he would be too busy to entertain him. Mr. Flanders then came straight back to my store; but he said at the inquest that he heard George lock the door behind him, and that he saw no one around the building.”
”Do you know anything about his circ.u.mstances at that time? Was he in need of money?”
”No, indeed; he had a large balance to his credit. Why, surely, you do not see any reason to suspect Mr. Flanders?” said Mr. McGregor.
”I don't say that I suspect anybody,” I replied, ”but I wish to gather all the information possible. Now, please tell me how large a balance Mr. Flanders had on deposit.”
Mr. McGregor immediately examined the ledger for the previous year, and reported that the balance due Mr. Flanders at the time of the murder, was over twelve thousand dollars.
”You see, Mr. Pinkerton,” he went on to say, ”we balanced our books up to that date, and thus we know just how each person's account stood that day.”
”Well, did you find that any of those gentlemen, who were in the habit of entering the bank after business hours, were in debt to the bank, or that they were cramped for money at that time?” I asked, carelessly.