“Neither do I,” replied Ben, “but I just trod on something that felt like paper under the carpet.”
“Of course,” broke in the landlord, “we always put paper under our carpets.”
“But this has a peculiar feeling, like an extra thickness of paper.”
“Why don’t you look under the carpet, then, and see what it is?” asked the superintendent.
“I would rather not, uncle. He is my friend, you know.”
“Nonsense! I hope he isn’t your friend if what we suspect of him is true. But step out of the way and let me see what wonderful discovery you have made. It is probably only a crease in the floor paper.”
So saying the superintendent stooped, inserted his hand beneath the edge of the carpet and drew forth the identical express envelope that the package of missing bills had come in.
The three looked at each other without a word, while Billings pretended to have resumed his writing.
When they were again in the landlord’s room the superintendent said:
“Proof is accumulating so fast against this Manning that I shall procure a warrant, send it on to our New York detective, and have him arrested.”
“Oh, uncle, don’t do it?” exclaimed Ben. “Remember that he is a gentleman, and that a thing of this kind would ruin him.”
“Your kind heart does you credit, Ben, but in a case of this sort mercy must give way to justice. Yes, it is clearly my duty to have him arrested. At the same time I shall write out a full account of the affair and send it to the president of the road, so that he will get it the first thing Monday morning. He can then decide what is to be done.”
The superintendent did as he proposed, and his letter was the first one President Walker Saxon, of the A. & B. Road, saw lying on his desk as he entered his office Monday morning. He had intended stopping at the office of the _Phonograph_, in which he was a stockholder, and speaking to the city editor about Myles Manning, but as it was early he changed his mind and decided that he would first go to his own office and glance over the mail.
At the same time a dispatch directed to Myles lay uncalled for in the city room of the _Phonograph_. It came from Billings, and was:
“Look sharp, old man. Suspect B. W. is making trouble for you here. Do not know yet what it is, but will post you as soon as I get on the inside track. Pretty sure I shall have to thrash him yet.”