Miss Belinda Makes Conditions
“Foul deeds will rise, Though all the world o’erwhelm them, to men’s eyes.”
Mr. Sylvester towered on his nephew with an expression such as few men had ever seen even on his powerful and commanding face.
“What do you mean?” asked he, and his voice rang like a clarion through the room.
Bertram trembled and for a moment stood aghast, the ready flush bathing his brow with burning crimson. “I mean,” stammered he, with difficulty recovering himself, “that when Mr. Stuyvesant came to open his private box in the bank today, that he not only found its lock had been tampered with, but that money and valuables to the amount of some twelve hundred dollars were missing from among its contents.”
“What?”
The expression which had made Mr. Sylvester’s brow so terrible had vanished, but his wonder remained.
“It is impossible,” he declared. “Our vaults are too well watched for any such thing to occur. He has made some mistake; a robbery of that nature could not take place without detection.”
“It would seem not, and yet the fact remains. Mr. Stuyvesant himself informed me of it, tonight. He is not a careless man, nor reckless in his statements. Someone has robbed the bank and it remains with us to find out who.”