As a result, Saybrook offered a correction.
“You say a group of citizens!” he exclaimed. “I understood that there was but one, and that he succeeded, even though he never reaped the harvest. Malcolm Warthrop, president of the Holmsford City Bank—”
Hurley Adams smiled wanly and raised his hand for silence. Willard Saybrook subsided, knowing that he was about to learn startling facts.
“Malcolm Warthrop,” stated Adams, “was the chief conspirator. Through his position as president of the bank, he arranged a theft of millions when the bank funds were transferred from the old building to the new. He did it cleverly, Saybrook, and he did it with the aid of one man: Stokes Bartlett, his secretary.
“But Warthrop and Bartlett did not attempt to remove the cash from Holmsford. They had charge of the transfer, and through some ingenious method they managed to carry the funds to a suitable hiding place which they had arranged. In this manner they totally avoided suspicion.
“It was Warthrop’s plan to leave Holmsford for a vacation. Bartlett was to go with him. The pair would never have returned.”
“What about the money?” questioned Saybrook incredulously. “How were they going to get it?”
“I am coming to that,” said Adams, in a tense tone. “That is the very point that involves the other conspirators.
“Malcolm Warthrop had two problems: first, the gaining of sufficient wealth to make flight to a foreign land worth while; second, the obtaining of the stolen funds after he had fled.
“The only time to perform his crime was at the date set for the transfer. Accordingly, he conspired with certain men in Holmsford to arrange for large loans or appropriations, so that the cash would be available. This made it natural for the bank to have a tremendous supply of money on hand. That settled the first problem. Warthrop used the same men to settle the second question. They were to unearth the wealth after his departure, and send him his share.”
Willard Saybrook nodded. This was amazing news to him. He had known that the City Bank had been rifled of great wealth; but he had never understood that there had been an organized method of bringing the money there.
“WASN’T Warthrop afraid of a double cross?” Saybrook questioned. “Leaving the money in Holmsford after he had gone—”
“Not a bit of it,” responded Adams, slowly shaking his head. “The other men were reputable citizens, who intended to remain in Holmsford. Warthrop, unless he received his portion, could easily have broken the conspirators. It was a marvelous scheme — but it failed. You know why, of course, now that I have given you the inside.”
“Yes. Warthrop — was killed, wasn’t he?”
“That’s it. Bartlett also. Just before they were ready for their departure, a few days after the transfer of the money, State banking examiners paid an unexpected visit. They entered the vaults with the cashier.
They found leaden disks stored away in place of gold coins. They discovered sheaves of blank paper topped with government notes.
“Warthrop was at home, and the examiners were quick enough to suspect him. They went to his house, accompanied by police. They surprised Warthrop and Bartlett on the point of leaving the city.
“The result is a matter of local history. Warthrop and Bartlett were armed. They resisted invasion. They fought off the police, and also set fire to all the papers in Warthrop’s home. They nearly escaped; but Bartlett, and then Warthrop, were killed at the conclusion of the fight.”
“And the money?” Saybrook fairly gasped the words. “It was left here in Holmsford? I know that it was never recovered—”
“It is still in Holmsford,” said Adams solemnly. “But the other conspirators have no record of where it is hidden.”
“Didn’t Warthrop tell them?” quizzed Saybrook.
“He intended to tell them,” explained Adams slowly, “and in order to do so subtly, he chose a most unusual method. When the cornerstone of the new bank building was laid, Warthrop placed within it a historical record of the city of Holmsford. Only two men saw that historical sketch — Warthrop and Bartlett. Its fourth paragraph names the place where the money is concealed.”
“Ah! Warthrop stated that fact to the conspirators?”
“Yes. He also kept a copy of the record which he intended to send to one of the conspirators after he had fled. But the copy was evidently destroyed along with the papers that Warthrop and Bartlett burned.”
“You mean, then” — Saybrook was stammering in his amazement — “that there is only one record of the hiding place of the lost millions — and that record is—”
“The record,” interposed Adams quietly, “is in the cornerstone of the City Bank Building, which was already completed at the time of the robbery. Until that building is torn down, and the contents of its cornerstone made public, the money will never be recovered!”
“But the conspirators,” gasped Saybrook. “Haven’t they looked for the funds—”
“They have not,” said Adams firmly. “They were afraid. Remember: they were instrumental in causing the bank to have large sums on hand. That fact was never suspected. The longer the conspirators waited to collect their shares, the better. Particularly as they would surely be able to divide the portion allotted to Warthrop and Bartlett.”
“The time is coming then!” exclaimed Saybrook. “It is nearly here! The present bank building is inadequate. It is to be torn down within the coming month!”
Hurley Adams nodded.
“Saybrook,” he said seriously, “certain men held a common secret which would enable them to some day share and share alike, immune from suspicion because of the passage of years. Those men agreed among themselves — long after Malcolm Warthrop’s death — that when the great day came, the living alone would share.
“Each man harbored the secret; and now that the time is almost here, some one among them has evolved a fiendish scheme. That one man — or perhaps an outsider who has learned the secret — has planned to eliminate all others, so that he can appropriate the entire wealth when the cornerstone is opened. He alone will then be able to learn the hiding place of millions!”
“Josiah Bartram! Maurice Pettigrew!” Saybrook gasped the names. “They were two of the conspirators!
And you—”
“I was a third,” confessed Hurley Adams sadly.
A LONG pause followed. The silence of the room became tense. The old lawyer broke it with a serious, warning tone that was impressive to the younger man.
“Saybrook” — Adams shook his head as he spoke — “I entered that conspiracy by request. As a lawyer, as the only one who did not actually arrange for money to be in Holmsford, I was useful as an arbitrator.
“Long have I regretted my connection with the plot. It has hung as a menace above my head, as the sword of Dionysius hung by a thread above the head of Damocles.
“Years ago, I resolved that when the spoils were divided, I would not claim my share. But when Josiah Bartram died, and I feared that his death had been by foul means, I resolved to claim my portion, and to turn it over to the Bartram estate.”
“Tainted money,” observed Saybrook doubtfully.
“Money which Josiah Bartram would have accepted,” argued Adams. “That fact must not be forgotten.”
Willard Saybrook understood. He could see honesty in Hurley Adams; at the same time, he realized that the attorney was treating the whole affair in an impartial manner.
Why should other thieves share at the expense of one? That seemed to be the decision of Hurley Adams.
“My mind is not at rest,” stated the old lawyer. “I knew that I would have to tell Grace Bartram the facts about her uncle; but when Josiah died, I resolved to wait until the money had been gained. You see my position, Saybrook. I am bound to these men. To condemn them, is to condemn myself.