The Mystery of Monastery Farm | Page 2

cashier both visited my room; it is their custom
and, I believe, duty to do so each day."
"When did you first miss the package?"
"When the large draft was presented about two o'clock."
"What did you do then?"
"I spoke through the 'phone to Mr. Bone, asking him to come in."
"Does not the porter come to your room occasionally?"
"He never comes into the room after nine o'clock."
"Cannot other clerks enter?"
"Not without permission. The door fastens with a spring lock."
"How about your lunch?"
"Our lunch is handed us at half-past twelve through the door which we
open."
"Now, Mr. Roe, with your knowledge of the case, what is your
conviction concerning this lost package of money?"
"Major, I am compelled to say that I have not the faintest suspicion as
to how it was taken."
Moving suddenly around, the major looked at the cashier and said: "Mr.
Bone, what was your business in the teller's room this morning?"
"It is one of my duties, morning and evening, to tally the cash taken
from the vault and returned in the evening."
"How long were you there this morning?"

"Perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes."
"When were you there the next time?"
"About half-past two, when Mr. Roe 'phoned me to come to his room,
and I again opened the vault, that the teller might get some money to
cash the large draft of one hundred and thirty-eight thousand pounds."
Much discussion followed this informal catechising, but the only thing
evident was that the package was lost. How it had disappeared, or
where it was, none could so much as guess. Here were twenty
men--thorough business men--several of whom had had large and
successful banking experience, among them a cashier than whom there
was no brighter financier in the great city of London, and the chief of a
peerless detective force, with two of his shrewdest colleagues. All were
nonplussed, annoyed, humiliated, returning to their homes and leaving
the great building in charge of half a score of sturdy watchmen, safer, it
would seem, in the night than in the day.
Next day several city newspapers had the following:
"REWARD
"A reward of TEN THOUSAND POUNDS will be paid for the arrest
of the party or parties who abstracted a valuable package of Bank of
England notes April 11, 18--, from said bank. This currency can be of
no value to the thieves, as the bank holds a list of the numbers, and
their circulation has been ordered stopped. The receiver of any of these
notes will be liable to arrest."
Nearly every important newspaper in the kingdom copied this item.
Besides this, a list of the numbers of the lost notes was sent to every
banking institution in England and America.

CHAPTER II
MONASTERY FARM

Billy Sparrow stood leaning against the gate post, looking down upon
the river three hundred yards away. He and his two helpers had been
cultivating corn and tobacco through a long June day; and now the sun
was going down, and he was making his plans for tomorrow's work.
Billy had just closed his fourth year as master of Monastery Farm. Billy
was an Englishman from Durham County, having attended school in
Barnard's Castle three years, with an additional two and a half years
spent at the agricultural college in Darlington. He then married the girl
of his choice and for four years superintended his father's farm; then,
with their one child, three years old, set sail for America to seek his
fortune, and four weeks later landed in New York.
Billy had letters of recommendation from the Wesleyan minister, Dr.
Walsh, his father's physician, and old Squire Horner. But in vain did
Billy present these credentials as he tramped the streets--nobody
seemed to need his services in a city containing millions of people.
Billy's capital was getting low and he was becoming discouraged. From
one of those profitless tramps he was returning one evening when he
observed the word "parsonage" on a door plate. He had always had a
friend in a preacher in his native town; why not make the acquaintance
of this one? Perhaps he might tell him of some sort of employment.
Without stopping to think further he pulled the bell. In a moment or
two he found himself in the presence of a young man, one but little
older than himself, and the stranger was invited inside, feeling very
much at home with the preacher.
After quite a lengthy conversation the preacher remarked: "You are a
farmer; New York is no place for you. I would advise you to go out
into the country; and, by the way, I believe I saw, a day or two since, an
advertisement for a man to take charge of a farm."