When Martin Landis entered the bank early in the afternoon of that same
day he presented a different appearance from that of his departure in
the morning. His head was held erect, his step determined, as he opened
the swinging door of the bank and entered.
"What--Landis, you back?" Mr. Buehlor greeted him, while the quizzical
eyes of the old man looked into those of the younger.
"I'm back and I'm back to get this hideous riddle solved and the slate
washed clean."
"Come in, come in!" Mr. Buehlor drew him into a little room and closed
the door. "Sit down, Landis."
"Well, how much is the bank short?" He looked straight into the eyes of
the man who, several hours before, had dealt him such a death-blow.
"So far everything is right, right as rain! There's a mistake or a
damnable dirty trick somewhere."
"Let's sift it out, Mr. Buehlor. Will you tell me who had the 'inside
information' that I was taking bank's money?"
"I'll tell you! It was a farmer near your home---"
"Mr. Mertzheimer?" offered Martin.
"The same! He asked to have you watched, then changed it and insisted
on having the books examined. Said your people are poor--forgive me,
Landis, but I have to tell you the whole story."
"Don't mind that. That's a mere scratch after what I got this morning."
"Well, he said your father had a mortgage on his farm up to the time
you came to work in the bank, then suddenly it was paid and soon after
the house was painted, a new bathroom installed, electric lights put
into the house and steam heat, a Victrola and an automobile bought. In
fact, your people launched out as though they had found a gold mine,
and that in spite of the fact that your crop of tobacco was ruined by
hail and the other income from the farm products barely enough to keep
things going until another harvest. He naturally thought you must have
a hand in supplying the money and with your moderate salary you
couldn't do half of that. He talked with several of the bank directors
and an investigation was ordered. You'll admit his story sounded
plausible. It looked pretty black for you."
"To you, yes! But not to him! Mr. Mertzheimer knows well enough where
that money came from. My father had a legacy of ten thousand dollars
this spring. You people could have found that out with very little
trouble."