“Can you steal another hundred thousand?” with no change in inflection. “Why—why, yes—I _could_—but you——” “Take you long?” “Long?—Oh yes! Well—quite a while. I should say several hours.” “Two o’clock is several hours. Come here with it then.” “Mr. Spellman, I can _do_ it!—Yes—I _can_ you know—but they—they’re bound to find it out inside of twenty-four hours the way I—the way I’ve got to get it this time!” “I don’t care how you get it—I want it at two.” Of course it didn’t happen as quick as that. I’m only giving you the high spots. When Chatfield came back at two with the money, Spellman put it in his safe where the sixteen was already reposing. Then he phoned the bank and got an appointment. Inside of half an hour he was seated in the private office of the president, and was conveying to him alone (having satisfied himself that no witnesses were within hearing distance) the information that he had a client, Henry Parsons Chatfield by name, who claimed to be the bank’s assistant cashier, and that—unless the man was lying—they’d find his accounts a matter of three hundred and fifty thousand short. He had strongly urged Mr. Chatfield, instead of trying to escape with the hundred thousand or thereabout that he still had in his possession after dumping the rest into Wall Street, to return it to the bank and make a confession. This he found Chatfield willing to do provided he could be safeguarded against arrest or legal action of any description. He (Spellman) wasn’t presuming to advise the acceptance of such a proposition. It seemed to be only a question of whether the bank wished the money or preferred to prosecute—the latter in case Chatfield could be apprehended. Every time the bank president broke out on him—which of course he did with all the force at his command—the lawyer cut him short. “I must say, sir—this is a most extraordinary—a most _outrageous_——” “Do you want it?” “Are you aware, Mr. Spellman, of your own risk in——” “Do you want it?” “We shall certainly take steps to——” “Do you want it?” But of course Spellman knew they did—knew they’d have to have it—or he wouldn’t have been there. Moreover, he noticed that the president made no move to ring the bell and call in other officials of the bank. The document he had ready was duly signed and executed. It wasn’t until after that was done and the thing securely in his possession that he paid over the hundred thousand to the bank. He returned six of the sixteen in his safe to Chatfield, and with it a biting comment on the assistant cashier’s consummate asininity. The remaining ten continued to remain. * * * * * For some time he played it this way, in and out of court, his adroit defenses of various kinds attracting more and more attention; and those who had begun to have symptoms of suspicion were very soon looking for questionable work back of the records.