"Ah, quite so!" he observed. "That accounts for the mask. But I am still
a little in the dark. Under the circumstances, it is quite impossible
that you should have stolen the money yourself, and--"
"I didn't," said Jimmie Dale. "I found it hidden in the home of one of
your employees."
"You found it--WHERE?"
"In Moyne's home--up in Harlem."
"Moyne, eh?" Carling was alert, quick now, jerking out his words. "How
did you come to get into this, then? His pal? Double-crossing him, eh? I
suppose you want a reward--we'll attend to that, of course. You're
wiser than you know, my man. That's what we suspected. We've had the
detectives trailing Moyne all evening." He reached forward over the desk
for the telephone. "I'll telephone headquarters to make the arrest at
once."
"Just a minute," interposed Jimmie Dale gravely. "I want you to listen
to a little story first."
"A story! What has a story got to do with this?" snapped Carling.
"The man has got a home," said Jimmie Dale softly. "A home, and a
wife--and a little baby girl."
"Oh, that's the game then, eh? You want to plead for him?" Carling flung
out gruffly. "Well, he should have thought of all that before! It's
quite useless for you to bring it up. The man has had his chance
already--a better chance than any one with his record ever had before.
We took him into the bank knowing that he was an ex-convict, but
believing that we could make an honest man of him--and this is the
result.
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