“Not since his wife died. He employs a man to care for the place, however, and goes out there occasionally. He lives in a suite in town.” “I see,” said Chick, with eyes shining. “I suppose Mack acts as your treasurer, as well as cashier, doesn’t he?” “He has charge of all of our securities, of course, if that is what you mean,” said Mr. Madden. “But what of all this? What are you driving at, Mr. Carter?” “I will tell you presently,” Chick replied. “Are your clerks still at work in the outer office?” “Yes, certainly.” “How often is your balance sheet made up and your securities examined and checked off?” “Once a month,” said Mellen, gazing. “Does Mack attend to all that?” “Yes, always.” “Where are the securities kept?” “In a compartment in our vault,” said Mellen. “Mack has one of the two keys. I carry the other.” “Call in one of your clerks, Mr. Madden,” said Chick. “Let’s have a look at your last balance sheet, and compare it with the securities now in your vault.” “Good heavens!” cried Mr. Madden, aghast. “You don’t suspect David Mack of embezzlement, do you?” “Well, to be perfectly frank, that is precisely what I suspect,” Chick declared, more forcibly. “But----” “Let’s lose no time in speculating upon it, however, for time is valuable. We can quickly learn the truth. Have the balance sheet brought in, Mr. Madden, while you, Mr. Mellen, bring the securities from the vault. We can conduct these investigations quietly and without informing your clerks. That must be avoided for the present.” Chick Carter’s instructions now were hurriedly followed. The result of the examination, moreover, fully confirmed his suspicions. David Mack was found to be short in his accounts precisely--half a million dollars. Numerous packages of securities, or supposed to contain them, tied up and sealed and labeled with Mack’s own handwriting, contained only worthless papers and useless old documents. David Mack was short precisely the amount of the demanded ransom. “My Lord!” Mr. Madden groaned, when the full truth was learned. “My Lord, who could have believed it? Are disasters never to end? What on earth does this mean, Mr. Carter?” Chick waved both dismayed bankers to their seats. “What it means, gentlemen, may be very briefly stated,” he now said gravely. “David Mack has been speculating heavily in an assumed character and under the name of Jack Conroy. He has margin accounts with half a score of brokers, and is involved more than half a million dollars, with absolutely no prospect of recovery in the present declining market.” “Recovery! Good heavens, I should say not!” cried Mellen, throwing up his hands. “Mack has been secretly using your securities, gentlemen, to carry these numerous accounts,” Chick continued. “He evidently realized lately that his situation was a hopeless one. To pull himself out of the hole and square himself here, therefore, he has resorted to another crime.” “You mean----”