ied the police,
speciously directing suspicion to--the ex-convict in the bank's employ.
You knew Moyne was dining out to-night, you knew where--and at a hint
from you the police took up the trail. A little later in the evening,
you took these two packages of banknotes from the rest, and with this
steamship ticket--which you obtained yesterday while out at lunch by
sending a district messenger boy with the money and instructions in a
sealed envelope to purchase for you--you went up to the Moynes' flat in
Harlem for the purpose of secreting them somewhere there. You pretended
to be much disappointed at finding Moyne out--you had just come for a
little social visit, to get better acquainted with the home life of your
employees! Mrs. Moyne was genuinely pleased and grateful. She took you
in to see their little girl, who was already asleep in bed. She left
you there for a moment to answer the door--and you--you"--Jimmie Dale's
voice choked again--"you blot on God's earth, you slipped the money and
ticket under the child's mattress!"

Carling came forward with a lurch in his chair--and his hands went out,
pawing in a wild, pleading fashion over Jimmie Dale's arm.

Jimmie Dale flung him away.

"You were safe enough," he rasped on. "The police could only construe
your visit to Moyne's flat as zeal on behalf of the bank. And it
was safer, much more circumspect on your part, not to order the flat
searched at once, but only as a last resort, as it were, after you
had led the police to trail him all evening and still remain without
a clew--and besides, of course, not until you had planted the evidence
that was to damn him and wreck his life and home! You were even generous
in the amount you deprived yourself of out of the hundred thousand
dollars--for less would have been enough. Caught with ten thousand
dollars of the bank's money and a steamship ticket made out in a
fictitious name, it was prima-facie evidence that he had done the job
and had the balance somewhere. What would his denials, his protestations
of innocence count for? He was an ex-convict, a hardened criminal caught
red-handed with a portion of the proceeds of robbery--he had succeeded
in hiding the remainder of it too cleverly, that was all."

Carling's face was ghastly. His hands went out again--again his tongue
moistened his dry lips. He whispered:

"Isn't--isn't there some--some way we can fix this?"

And then Jimmie Dale laughed--not pleasantly.

"Yes, th