When Egypt Went Broke - Holman Day (intellectual books to read TXT) 📗

the native would have the advantage in the exchange of accusation.
Vaniman perceived the existing state of affairs in the demeanor of the men whom he met on the street, going to and from the tavern. He heard some of their remarks. He strove to keep a calm face while his soul burned!
Then, at last, Examiner Starr acted. He employed peculiar methods to fit a peculiar case.
One afternoon Starr sat and stared for some time at Vaniman. They were alone in the bank. Receiver Waite and Vona had gone away.
"Would you relish a little show?" inquired the examiner.
Vaniman had nerved himself against all kinds of surprise, he thought, but he was not prepared for this proffer of entertainment. He frankly declared that he did not understand.
"Seeing that you are doubtful, we'll have the show, anyway, and you can tell me later whether or not you relish it." He opened the door and called. Bixby came in. It was evident that Bixby had been waiting.
"All ready!" said Starr.
"All right!" said Bixby.
"I'll say that Bixby, here, is an operator from a detective agency, in case you don't know it," explained the examiner.
"I do know it, sir!"
Bixby pulled off his overcoat. Under it he wore a mohair office coat. He yanked off that garment, ripped the sleeves, tore the back breadth, and threw the coat under a stool. Then he secured a dustcloth from a hook, produced a small vial of chloroform, and poured some of the liquid on the cloth. He poured more of the chloroform on his hair and his vest. Then he laid down the cloth and got a roll of tape out of a drawer. He cut off a length and made a noose, slipped it over his wrists, bent down and laid the end of the tape on the floor, stood on it, and pulled taut the noose until the flesh was ridged. He stooped again and picked up two metal disks which Starr tossed on the floor; the detective did this easily, although his writs were noosed.
"Not the exact program, perhaps, but near enough," Starr commented.
With equal ease Bixby laid the disks carefully on the flange of the sill of the vault. Then he took the cloth from the desk, went to the vault, stooped and thumped his head up against the projecting lever. He went into the vault and carefully pulled the door shut after him, both hands on the main bolt.
Starr was silent for some moments, exchanging looks with the cashier.
"Any comments?" inquired the manager of the show.
"None, sir."
"I'll simply say that the chloroform cloth can be put to the nose as occasion calls for. Bixby isn't doing that. I told Bixby that for the purposes of demonstration he might count one hundred slow and then figure that he had used up the oxygen in the vault, and then, if nobody came to open the door, he could--well, he isn't in there to commit suicide, but only to create an impression. I ask again--any comments?"
Vaniman shook his head.
Then the door swung open. Bixby was on his back, his heels in the air. He had pushed the door with his feet, his shoulders against the inner door. He rose and came out. Starr cut the tape with the office shears.
"That's all!" said the manager.
Bixby, not troubling about the torn office jacket, put on his overcoat and departed.
Starr took a lot of time in lighting a cigar and getting a good clinch on the weed with his teeth. He spoke between those teeth. "It's your move, Vaniman."
"I haven't agreed to sit in at that kind of a game," stated the young man, firmly.
"But you'll have to admit that I'm playing mighty fair," insisted the examiner. "When we talked in Britt's office, you and I agreed that it wasn't likely that a chap would run risks or commit suicide by shutting himself up in a bank vault with a time lock on. That's about the only point we did agree on. I'm showing you that I don't agree with you now, even on that point. That being the case, you've got to--show _me_." Starr emphasized the last two words by stabbing at his breast with the cigar.
"The idea is, Mr. Starr, you believe that I framed a fake robbery, or something that looked like a robbery, in order to cover myself." Frank stood up and spoke hotly.
Mr. Starr jumped up and was just as heated in his retort. "Yes!"
"But the whole thing--the muddling of the bank's books--the disks--a man shoving himself into the vault--I'd have to be a lunatic to perform in that fashion!"
"They say there's nothing new under the sun! There is, just the same! Some crook is thinking up a new scheme every day!"
"By the gods, you shall not call me a crook!"
"You, yourself, are drawing that inference. But I don't propose to deal in inferences--"
"Starting in the first day you struck this town, hounding me on account of matters I had no knowledge of, Mr. Starr, was drawing a damnable inference."
"It has been backed up by some mighty good evidence!"
"What is your evidence?"
The examiner blew a cloud of smoke, then he fanned the screen away and squinted at Vaniman. "If you ever hear of me giving away the state's case in any matter where I'm concerned you'll next hear of me committing suicide by locking myself into a bank vault. Calm down, Mr. Cashier!"
Starr walked close to Vaniman and tapped a stubby forefinger against the young man's heaving breast. "I'm going to give you a chance, young fellow! I staged that little play a few moments ago so that you'd see what a fool house of cards you're living in! I hope you noted carefully that we did not need to go off the premises for any of our props. I, myself, had noted in your case that everything that was used came from the premises. Real robbers usually bring their own stuff. Even that chloroform--"
"I know nothing about the chloroform, sir."
"Well, the vial was here that night, anyway! It's a small thing to waste time on! I don't profess to be at the bottom of the affair, Vaniman. I'll admit that it looks as if there's a lot behind this thing--plenty that is interesting. I've got my full share of human curiosity. I'd like to be let in on this thing, first hand. Now come across clean! The whole story! Tell me where the coin is! It's certainly a queer case, and there must be some twist in it where I can do you a good turn. I've giving you your chance, I say!"
"I have no more idea where that coin is than you have, Mr. Starr. I never touched it. I have already told the whole truth, so far as I know facts."
"Now listen, Vaniman! This town is already _down_! If that gold isn't recovered this bank failure will put the town _out_! The folks are ugly. They're talking. Britt says they believe you have hidden the money!"
"He does say it!" Vaniman fairly barked the words. "No doubt he has been telling 'em so!"
Starr proceeded remorselessly. "I have heard all the gossip about the trouble between you and Britt. But that gossip doesn't belong in this thing right now. Vaniman, you know what a country town is when it turns against an outsider! If you go before a jury on this case--and that money isn't in sight--you don't stand the show of a wooden latch on the back door of hell's kitchen! They'll all come to court with what they can grub up in the way of brickbats--facts, if they can get 'em, lies, anyway! Come, come, now! Dig up the coin!"
Starr's bland persistency in taking for granted the fact that Vaniman was hiding the money snapped the overstrained leash of the cashier's self-restraint. In default of a general audience of the hateful Egyptian vilifiers, he used Starr as the object of his frenzied vituperation.
Mr. Starr listened without reply.
As soon as it was apparent to the bank examiner that the cashier did not intend to take advantage of the chance that had been offered, Starr marched to the door, opened it, and called. The corridor, it seemed, was serving as repository for various properties required in the drama which Mr. Starr had staged that day. The man who entered wore a gold badge--and a gold badge marks the high sheriff of a county. Starr handed a paper to the officer. "Serve it," he commanded, curtly.
The sheriff walked to Vaniman and tapped him on the shoulder. "You're under arrest."
"Charged with what?"
"I'm making it fairly easy for you," explained, Starr, dryly, appearing to be better acquainted with the nature of the warrant than the sheriff was. "Burglary, with or without accomplices, might have been charged--seeing that the coin has been removed--in the nighttime, of course! But we're simply making the charge embezzlement!"


CHAPTER XVII
ON THE FACE OF IT
Squire Hexter arranged for Vaniman's bail, volunteering for that service, frankly admitting that he "had seen it coming all along"! But the Squire was not as ready to serve as Frank's counsel and withstood that young man's urging for some time. The Squire's solicitude in behalf of the accused was the reason for this reluctance. "You ought to have the smartest city lawyer you can hire. I'm only an old country codger, son!"
"Squire Hexter, I propose to let the other side have a monopoly of the tricks. I'm depending on my innocence, and I want your honesty back of it."
In the hope that the folks of Egypt would recognize innocence when they saw it, Vaniman daily walked the streets of the village. The pride of innocence was soon wounded; he learned that his action in "showing himself under the folks's noses" was considered as bravado. The light of day showed him so many sour looks that he stayed in the house with Xoa or in the Squire's office until night. Then he discovered that when he walked abroad under cover of the darkness he was persistently trailed; it was evident that the belief that he had hidden the coin of the Egypt Trust Company was sticking firmly in the noodles of the public.
The bank, of course, was now forbidden ground for him. The affairs of that unhappy institution were being wound up. Considering the fact that the stockholders had been assessed dollar for dollar of their holdings, and that, even with this assessment added to the assets, the depositors would get back only a fraction of their money, Vaniman could scarcely marvel at the hard looks and the muttered words he met up with on the street.
Furthermore, the insurance company took the stand that the bank had not been burglarized. On the other hand, the security company behind Vaniman's bond refused to settle, claiming that some kind of a theft had been committed by outsiders. Only after expensive litigation could Receiver Waite hope to add insurance and bond money to the assets. The prospects of getting anything were clouded by the revelations concerning President Britt's private entrance to the bank vault. But Britt was not accused of anything except of presuming on too many liberties in running a one-man bank. Under some circumstances Britt would have been called to an accounting, without question. But all the venom of suspicion was wholly engaged with Frank Vaniman, the son of an embezzler.
Squire Hexter, armed with authority and information given him by the young man, had repeatedly waited on Tasper Britt and had asked what attitude the president proposed to take at the trial. Britt had said that he should tell the truth, and that was all any witness could be expected to do or to