Part 21 (2/2)
”You have no doubt that she did the trick?” interjected Greig.
”I have no opinion in the matter,” Britz informed him curtly. ”I may have a most decided one, however, in an hour or so.”
”Well, what do you think is going to happen now?” drawled Manning. While he guessed that Britz was setting the stage for a grand climax, he had not the remotest idea of its nature.
”She knows now that she has inherited Whitmore's fortune,” said Britz with slow emphasis. ”In view of what has happened to-day, there is but one obvious course for her to pursue. She may do it indirectly, through attorneys. She may elect to do it herself. We shall see.”
It was an unsatisfying explanation, revealing nothing of the detective's hidden purpose. But Manning was unable to entice a more explicit statement from his subordinate. So he instructed a detective to proceed to Ward's office and direct the policemen on guard there to withdraw to their precinct station.
”I'm burning up with curiosity,” acknowledged the chief, ”but I suppose I shall have to wait until you're ready to confide what you're about.”
”You'll not have to wait very long,” Britz promised. ”It's a case now of instant success or instant failure.”
Gathering the doc.u.ments which had been recovered from the butler, Britz deposited them on a small table at the other end of the room.
”You may tie them up and send them to Beard,” he instructed Greig.
”We'll hold the butler for the present. He may be of use.”
The detective next obtained a telegraph blank and despatched the following message:
”_Anderson, Chief of Police, Atlanta, Ga._:
”Please engage lawyer in behalf of one Timson, alias Arthur Travis, now in Atlanta prison. Have writ of habeas corpus sworn out as soon as possible and explain matters to Federal attorney down there.
Adhere to line we discussed on my recent visit. Put Timson, when discharged, on board first train and have one of your men accompany him to this city. This department will meet all expenses.
”BRITZ.”
The detective waited until his a.s.sistant had tied up the bundle of doc.u.ments; then, lifting the will from his desk and slipping it into his pocket, he said:
”Come on, Greig! We're going down to Ward's office. There's going to be an explosion.”
CHAPTER XIV
As the police withdrew from in front of Ward & Co.'s office, the crowd returned. It flowed into the corridor of the office building, a sullen, silent mob, full of repressed anger that required only the slightest spark to transform it into a roaring flame. They ma.s.sed about the locked door, gazing at the lettered panel as at a corpse.
Out in the street newsboys were crying the failure of the banking house.
They did a brisk business. Mourners everywhere are feverishly anxious to read of the deceased, his achievements and his failure and his demise.
And these mourners, gathered at the funeral of an inst.i.tution that held for them so vital an interest, devoured every detail of its expired life.
Inside the office, the clerks worked with their customary deliberation, tallying the accounts for the receiver. No tentative statement of a.s.sets and liability had been announced by the court's representative. He could have prepared a fairly accurate statement and posted it on the door. But he was a charitable man and wished to spare the depositors further anguish. Give them time to recover from the first great shock before inflicting a greater one, he argued. So he postponed the evil moment when he must reveal the wretched condition of the inst.i.tution.
Each time the door opened and a messenger left, the crowd set on him beseeching information of the financial condition of the private bank.
But the messengers had nothing to reveal.
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