interests of the bank, and it would be absurd in me to offer opposition
to that."

"Well," said William, "there have been certain developments made in this
case which, I regret to say, lead me to believe that Eugene Pearson is
not entirely blameless in this robbery."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Mr. Silby, starting to his feet, and with
a tremor in his voice, which told of inward agitation; "you do not mean
that you suspect Eugene?"

"I must confess that I do," said William solemnly, "and I regret it
sincerely, both on your account and his own."

"But this will not do," suddenly interrupted the old gentleman, "this
cannot be. Why, I have known that boy ever since his childhood, and I
have loved him as my own son. No, no, Mr. Pinkerton, you must be
mistaken about this."

"Mr. Silby," said my son, "let us look at this matter calmly and
dispassionately. You have employed us to ferret out the thieves, and to
recover, if possible, the money of which you have been robbed. We have
therefore but one duty to perform, and that is to find the men. I have
looked into this case carefully; I have noted every point thus far
attained; I have weighed every item philosophically, and I tell you now,
that I am convinced that Eugene Pearson knows more about this robbery
than has yet been revealed."

[Illustration: "I tell you, Mr. Silby, I am convinced that Eugene
Pearson knows more about this robbery than has yet been revealed."]