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 “What’s that? Counting what?”

“All that money—for the Judge. Dum nigh to fifty thousand dollars…. Ought to give a feller warnin’ so’s he could git ready for that big a withdrawal.”

Angus felt curiously cold, curiously dead. “Do—do you say you—counted fifty thousand dollars for Judge Crane?”

“Like you said. Uh-huh. He said you’n him had agreed it was better to deposit the funds of the manufacturin’ company in a city bank—that that was what you wanted to see him about…. So he drawed his check as treasurer and I give it to him.”

Angus sat staring at Gene so fixedly that the teller became uneasy, frightened. “D’ye mean,” he gasped, “that suthin’s wrong?” “Wrong!” Angus said. “Wrong!… Here’s Mr. Woodhouse’s address. Wire him to come home at once…. I’m going after Crane. Keep—keep a still tongue in your head.”

“What—what’s it all mean?”

“Judge Crane,” said Angus, “has just absconded with the capital of the Novelties Company—and I’m going after him.” As soon as the words were out he would have recalled them, but there could be no recall. He seized Gene’s shoulders and shook him. “You’re to keep quiet about it—quiet. Do you