He feared to learn that within that locked office the moody Clayton lay cold in death--a suicide.
But the old accountant only raised his head and babbled, "There's something gone wrong with Mr.Clayton.The bank has just sent me a messenger." "Our Saturday deposit never reached the bank! He's in there now.
Oh! My God!" Rapidly turning on the District call for the police, Ferris darted into Secretary Edson's room.
"Wallace," he cried, "take two of your best men; get pistols.

Shut the offices! Let no one leave! There's been a gigantic robbery here; perhaps a murder!" Wallace Edson sprang up, brave and resolute, as Ferris dashed back to the broken old man.
"How much ?" he sharply demanded.

"Nearly a quarter of a million!" the old accountant faltered.
"Where's the bank-book ?" cried Ferris, his presence of mind returning.
"Clayton has it," the bookkeeper sadly said.
Opening a door, Arthur Ferris called in the treasurer.

Frank Bell, jolly and debonnair, had just returned from "no end of a good time." "Look out for Somers, here," he ordered.

"There's been a great disaster.