The Sport of the Gods | Page 8

towards the station
was Berry standing upon the steps waving a hearty farewell and
god-speed.
"How could you do it, Frank?" gasped his brother, as soon as they had
driven well out of hearing.
"Hush, Maurice," said Mrs. Oakley gently; "I think it was very noble of
him."
"Oh, I felt sorry for the poor fellow," was Frank's reply. "Promise me
you won't be too hard on him, Maurice. Give him a little scare and let
him go. He 's possibly buried the money, anyhow."
"I shall deal with him as he deserves."
The young man sighed and was silent the rest of the way.
"Whether I fail or succeed, you will always think well of me,
Maurice?" he said in parting; "and if I don't come up to your
expectations, well--forgive me--that 's all."
His brother wrung his hand. "You will always come up to my
expectations, Frank," he said. "Won't he, Leslie?"
"He will always be our Frank, our good, generous-hearted, noble boy.
God bless him!"
The young fellow bade them a hearty good-bye, and they, knowing
what his feelings must be, spared him the prolonging of the strain. They
waited in the carriage, and he waved to them as the train rolled out of

the station.
"He seems to be sad at going," said Mrs. Oakley.
"Poor fellow, the affair of last night has broken him up considerably,
but I 'll make Berry pay for every pang of anxiety that my brother has
suffered."
"Don't be revengeful, Maurice; you know what brother Frank asked of
you."
"He is gone and will never know what happens, so I may be as
revengeful as I wish."
The detective was waiting on the lawn when Maurice Oakley returned.
They went immediately to the library, Oakley walking with the firm,
hard tread of a man who is both exasperated and determined, and the
officer gliding along with the cat-like step which is one of the attributes
of his profession.
"Well?" was the impatient man's question as soon as the door closed
upon them.
"I have some more information that may or may not be of importance."
"Out with it; maybe I can tell."
"First, let me ask if you had any reason to believe that your butler had
any resources of his own, say to the amount of three or four hundred
dollars?"
"Certainly not. I pay him thirty dollars a month, and his wife fifteen
dollars, and with keeping up his lodges and the way he dresses that girl,
he can't save very much."
"You know that he has money in the bank?"
"No."

"Well, he has. Over eight hundred dollars."
"What? Berry? It must be the pickings of years."
"And yesterday it was increased by five hundred more."
"The scoundrel!"
"How was your brother's money, in bills?"
"It was in large bills and gold, with some silver."
"Berry's money was almost all in bills of a small denomination and
silver."
"A poor trick; it could easily have been changed."
"Not such a sum without exciting comment."
"He may have gone to several places."
"But he had only a day to do it in."
"Then some one must have been his accomplice."
"That remains to be proven."
"Nothing remains to be proven. Why, it 's as clear as day that the
money he has is the result of a long series of peculations, and that this
last is the result of his first large theft."
"That must be made clear to the law."
"It shall be."
"I should advise, though, no open proceedings against this servant until
further evidence to establish his guilt is found."
"If the evidence satisfies me, it must be sufficient to satisfy any

ordinary jury. I demand his immediate arrest."
"As you will, sir. Will you have him called here and question him, or
will you let me question him at once?"
"Yes."
Oakley struck the bell, and Berry himself answered it.
"You 're just the man we want," said Oakley, shortly.
Berry looked astonished.
"Shall I question him," asked the officer, "or will you?"
"I will. Berry, you deposited five hundred dollars at the bank
yesterday?"
"Well, suh, Mistah Oakley," was the grinning reply, "ef you ain't de
beatenes' man to fin' out things I evah seen."
The employer half rose from his chair. His face was livid with anger.
But at a sign from the detective he strove to calm himself.
"You had better let me talk to Berry, Mr. Oakley," said the officer.
Oakley nodded. Berry was looking distressed and excited. He seemed
not to understand it at all.
"Berry," the officer pursued, "you admit having deposited five hundred
dollars in the bank yesterday?"
"Sut'ny. Dey ain't no reason why I should n't admit it, 'ceptin' erroun'
ermong dese jealous niggahs."
"Uh huh! well, now, where