The papers reported that the cashier of the Traders' Bank was ill in

his apartments at the Knickerbocker--a condition not surprising,

considering everything. The guilt of the defunct president was no

longer in doubt; the missing bonds had been advertised and some of them

discovered. In every instance they had been used as collateral for

large loans, and the belief was current that not less than a million

and a half dollars had been realized. Every one connected with the

bank had been placed under arrest, and released on heavy bond.

Was he alone in his guilt, or was the cashier his accomplice? Where was

the money? The estate of the dead man was comparatively small--a city

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house on a fashionable street, Sunnyside, a large estate largely

mortgaged, an insurance of fifty thousand dollars, and some personal

property--this was all.

The rest lost in speculation probably, the papers said. There was one

thing which looked uncomfortable for Jack Bailey: he and Paul Armstrong

together had promoted a railroad company in New Mexico, and it was

rumored that together they had sunk large sums of money there. The

business alliance between the two men added to the belief that Bailey

knew something of the looting. His unexplained absence from the bank

on Monday lent color to the suspicion against him. The strange thing

seemed to be his surrendering himself on the point of departure. To

me, it seemed the shrewd calculation of a clever rascal. I was not

actively antagonistic to Gertrude's lover, but I meant to be convinced,

one way or the other. I took no one on faith.

That night the Sunnyside ghost began to walk again. Liddy had been

sleeping in Louise's dressing-room on a couch, and the approach of dusk

was a signal for her to barricade the entire suite. Situated as its

was, beyond the circular staircase, nothing but an extremity of

excitement would have made her pass it after dark. I confess myself

that the place seemed to me to have a sinister appearance, but we kept

that wing well lighted, and until the lights went out at midnight it

was really cheerful, if one did not know its history.

On Friday night, then, I had gone to bed, resolved to go at once to

sleep. Thoughts that insisted on obtruding themselves I pushed

resolutely to the back of my mind, and I systematically relaxed every

muscle. I fell asleep soon, and was dreaming that Doctor Walker was

building his new house immediately in front of my windows: I could hear

the thump-thump of the hammers, and then I waked to a knowledge that

somebody was pounding on my door.

I was up at once, and with the sound of my footstep on the floor the

low knocking ceased, to be followed immediately by sibilant whispering

through the keyhole.




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