The bank officials were perplexed and mystified. With the arrival of Urian Eliot the inner door of the vault had been opened by Timmick. It was evident to them all that the looters had been driven away before they could open this door, and therefore there was every reason to believe that the contents of the vault would be found undisturbed.

In order that a thorough examination might be made in the presence of the president and the others, the cash and securities contained in the various compartments of the vault had been removed and placed upon a long oak table in the adjoining directors’ room. This done, the officials gathered about the table and began the investigation, the president, pencil in hand, checking everything off on a list that had been furnished him by Timmick.

Then it was that they were shocked to discover that twenty thousand dollars’ worth of negotiable securities could not be found. The suggestion that these securities had been overlooked sent Timmick and one of the directors back to the vault, but without avail. In a few moments the cashier and his companion returned, and Timmick’s face was pale and his voice husky as he said:

“Those securities must be here on this table. They’re not in the vault. They must be here. They can’t be gone.”

“We’ll go over the list again,” said Urian Eliot. “Let’s do it slowly, carefully and systematically.”

Their great care in this second inspection simply served to confirm the fact that the securities were missing, whereupon Timmick collapsed upon a chair, seemingly on the verge of fainting.

“It’s awful—incomprehensible!” he whispered hoarsely, staring at the faces of the other men. “I can’t understand it.”

“Nor I,” snapped the little jeweler, rapping his knuckles sharply on the table and facing the cashier with a piercing eye. “If you can’t explain it, Mr. Timmick, I don’t know who can.”

“Why—why,” faltered the distressed cashier, “I hope—you don’t mean, sir——”

“I’m sure Mr. Sprague will not be hasty with an insinuation,” interrupted Urian Eliot. “I’m sure we all have the utmost confidence in your integrity, Timmick.”

It was noticeable, however, that none of the others said a word in support of this assertion, and Mr. Lucius Timmick looked very ill indeed by the white light of the shaded chandelier.

It was some time after daylight before the officials came forth from the bank and made inquiries concerning the search for the fugitive crooks. Later they learned of the remarkable capture by two boys of the wounded member of the gang, and when the prisoner had been attended by a physician they sought to obtain some information from him by giving him a mild sort of “third degree” treatment. The effort, however, resulted most unsatisfactorily. The prisoner, stretched on a cot in the lockup, grimly defied them and sullenly refused to answer a single question.

“Aw, go on,” he growled. “You couldn’t make me snitch if you skinned me.”

“Your accomplices are certain to be captured,” asserted Lemuel Hayden. “They can’t get away. It is your opportunity to obtain a little clemency by confessing before any of the others do so.”

“Bite it off,” advised the prisoner. “You’re wasting your wind, old geezer. I never ties up with squealers.”

About this time Roy Hooker, crowding down a breakfast rendered tasteless by his excitement, was telling his astounded mother a story that made her gasp and throw up her hands.

“Mercy!” she cried, staring at him. “You caught one of the robbers—you and Billy Piper? I never heard of such a thing! Two boys catching a desperate burglar!”

“We caught him,” laughed Roy, “though perhaps it wouldn’t have been so easy, only he was pretty weak from his wound and the loss of blood.”

“You’ll be killed some day, Roy,” prophesied his mother. “Now there’s your father; I didn’t want him to go out with the men who are hunting the robbers, but he just would go. I’m worried to death for fear he’ll get shot or something.”

“Wonder what he will say when he hears what Sleuth and I did,” chuckled Roy, gulping down a final mouthful and pushing back from the table. “Bet he don’t do as much.” He rose and grabbed his cap.

“Where are you going now?” asked Mrs. Hooker apprehensively. “I won’t be able to rest easy a minute.”

“Oh, there’s something doing in Oakdale this morning. Only a dead one could hang around home with so much going on. Don’t worry, mother; nothing will happen to me. They ought to be marching in some of the other crooks pretty soon, and I want to see ’em when they come.”

Outside the house, however, he paused, as if doubtful concerning the course he would pursue, and for some moments he seemed struggling with contending desires.

“Sleuth didn’t want me to see Fred,” he muttered. “He made me promise I wouldn’t tell Sage anything. Fred’s my friend. If he’s mixed up in this rotten business it’s a shame. I’d like to see him a minute; I must see him. I won’t give anything away, but I’d like to see how he’ll behave. I’m just going up to his house, that’s all.”

Having arrived at this decision, he hurried up Willow Street, crossing to Main only after the heart of the village had been left behind. As he drew near the home of the Sages his pace slackened somewhat, and he began to realize that he almost dreaded to meet Fred face to face. Even when he had reached the proper point to turn in from the street he hesitated and was almost tempted to retrace his steps.

At that moment, as if he had seen Hooker, Fred came out of the house, and Roy walked into the yard.

“Hello, Hook,” said Sage. “What’s the latest? Have they caught any of the robbers? My father is down town now.”

It seemed rather singular to Hooker that Fred also was not in the village, and, furthermore, Roy imagined he could perceive something unnatural and distraught in his friend’s manner.

“S’pose you’ve heard about Pipe and me?” said Roy.

“No. I’ve been staying home with mother. She’s nervous. Father deposits at the bank, you know, and he wanted to find out if there had really been a robbery. What about you and Sleuth?”

“We caught one of the gang,” announced the visitor proudly.

“You—you did?” faltered Sage, seeming to stiffen a bit. “Really and truly did you and Sleuth catch one of them?”

“Really and truly, old man. We ran him down over behind Turkey Hill and nabbed him. He’s in the lockup now.”

“Back of Turkey Hill!” said Fred, a bit huskily, and the other boy fancied his face lost color somewhat. “How—how did you do it?”

“Oh, the fellow was wounded, and it wasn’t much of a trick. Old Quinn blazed away blindly at the robbers when they ran, and he happened to hit this one. Of course,” he continued, with a pardonable touch of pride, “some folks seem to think we did quite a thing in nabbing him.”

“I don’t wonder,” muttered Fred. “Tell me just how you did it.”

With a sudden impulse, Roy strode past his companion, saying: “Come on into the stable and I’ll tell you.”

“We can talk just as well out here,” said Sage hastily. “Let’s not go in there.”

“But I want to go in there,” persisted Hooker, keeping on, although his friend had grasped his arm.

The sliding doors were now nearly closed, but Hooker thrust one of them back sufficiently to enter, and Fred, ceasing to object, followed into the building.

At a glance Roy perceived a large damp spot upon the floor, where upon his previous visit there had been a pool of blood. Every trace of the blood stains was gone. Turning quickly to Sage, Hooker saw that he was being watched narrowly, but instantly Fred’s eyelids drooped.

“Sleuth was right in his suspicions, after all,” thought the visitor, with sinking heart. “If there wasn’t something wrong, they’d never removed those stains and kept still about it.”

“Tell me,” urged Fred, “how you happened to find this wounded robber. How did you trace him?”

“I didn’t say we traced him.”

“No, but I supposed—that is, I imagined you must have been led in some way to search for him over by Turkey Hill.”

“He’s in it—in it up to the neck,” thought Roy, almost bitterly. “It’s a shame! He seemed like such a fine fellow!”

“What’s the matter?” asked the other lad nervously. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

“Oh, yes, I—I will. You see, it was this way.” He began his story at the point where he and Piper had discovered the fugitive from their position in the clearing on the northern shoulder of the hill. In the midst of the narrative, through which he was hurrying, the boys were startled by the swift tread of feet, and a moment later several persons, led by Constable Hubbard, entered the stable.

“What—what is it?” demanded Fred Sage at sight of the men. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re a-looking for one of them there bank robber critters,” answered the constable, “and for sartain reasons we’re led to believe he’s hiding round these premises somewhere. The buildings are surrounded complete, and he can’t git away.”