The other two emerged from the vault, staggering under the weight of the bags. Clancy took one of the bags, and the three walked out of the bank, fading away into the night like ill-omened wraiths. It was six o’clock the following morning when a patrolman heard a groan coming from the alleyway in the rear of the bank. Stepping in to investigate, he was horrified to find the outside watchman weltering in a pool of blood. The wounded man was barely able to speak. He told, gaspingly, of the ill luck that had befallen him, and added that he believed the bank had been robbed. Running to the nearest patrol box, the officer summoned an ambulance, after which he hurried to the bank. He found and released the inside watchman, heard his story, and immediately got in some lively work with the telephone. The chief of police was notified and also the president of the bank. The latter, in turn, called up the cashier and as many of the directors as he could reach by phone. By eight o’clock there was a gathering of police and bank officials about the wrecked doors of the plundered vault, the cashier and an assistant being inside checking up. At eight-thirty the cashier came out of the vault with a white face. “They got little for all their pains,” he said, loud enough for the police officials and a couple of reporters to overhear. “Only about five thousand dollars, all told.” A look of relief overspread the faces of the president and the two directors who were present. The next moment the president, directors and the cashier stepped into the president’s private office. There the cashier acknowledged that he had made a misstatement. Instead of taking five thousand dollars, the thieves had decamped with seventy-five thousand dollars. “We’re a comparatively small and provincial institution,” said the president, slowly, after a brief interval of silence, “and this loss will spell ruin for us unless----” He hesitated. “Unless what?” asked one of the directors, huskily, mopping the sweat from his forehead. “Unless we can recover the money before it is generally known that the cashier made a willful misstatement.” “The police of this town can never do it,” asserted the other director. “Shall we go down in our pockets and pay out a good big fee to a man who might be able to save us?” inquired the president. “It may be throwing good money after bad,” said the first director, shaking his head. “Nevertheless,” said the second director, “I move that we try it, anyhow.” “Shall I go ahead?” asked the president. “Yes,” came from both directors and the cashier. Ten minutes later the following telegram was speeding over the wires: “NICHOLAS CARTER, New York City: Bank robbery here. Will you name your own fee and take the case? “JULIUS HEPNER.” “He won’t come,” said Clarkson, one of the directors. “He has all he can attend to right in New York.”