What could there be about this fund, Green Eye wondered, that required investigation, particularly an investigation prompted by the proprietor of the newspapers responsible for it. “As usual,” Griswold went on. “I started the fund by subscribing five thousand dollars, and many men of substance have contributed large sums, although none so large as that. You may or may not know that the receipts to date total a little over a hundred thousand dollars.” “A very neat sum, indeed,” Gordon commented, “and one that is very creditable to those who have contributed, especially those who have done so anonymously.” He could not resist that slight dig, for he knew perfectly well that Lane A. Griswold had never been guilty of making an anonymous contribution in his life. He was never satisfied unless his name could head the list. Perhaps this baiting was unwise, but Green Eye did not think so. A little of it, he felt sure, would be good for the millionaire, and give him a wholesome fear of the supposed detective. He decided, though, to let it go at that, for the present, at least. As for Griswold, after swallowing hard two or three times, he evidently determined to ignore the thrust. “But how could a criminal case, delicate or otherwise, have arisen out of such a philanthropic enterprise?” Green Eye queried innocently. If pressed, he could have given a pretty shrewd guess, but it suited his purpose just then to take another course. “It’s simple enough—too infernally simple!” Griswold retorted feelingly. “The money has been stolen, that’s all!” Gordon had suspected something of the sort, but it was pleasing to hear it put into words. A hundred-thousand-dollar relief fund reposing safely in some bank vault was of only theoretical interest to him, along with the hundreds of millions stored in similar vaults within a radius of a few miles of Nick Carter’s study. A hundred thousand dollars—or anywhere near that amount—in the hands of a fugitive from justice was a very different matter, however. There were possibilities in that situation. “Ah, I’m not surprised!” Gordon remarked calmly. “How and when was the money taken? I assume you don’t know by whom?” “But I do—I know only too well,” Griswold told him promptly. “You do?” “There’s no room for doubt about it. The money was taken by a man named John Simpson, an old and trusted employee of the _Chronicle and Observer_.” “How did he happen to have access to it, may I ask?” “I made him the treasurer of the fund. I never dreamed of anything of this sort. He had served in a similar capacity more than once in the past, and always with the most scrupulous fidelity.” “But how did he have possession of the whole fund, if it was collected by different newspapers?” “Daily drafts were sent to the _Chronicle and Observer_, as the parent newspaper of the chain. Our New York office is the general headquarters, you know.” “I see. Simpson is missing, is he, along with the money?”