From somewhere in Colorado she sent an anonymous telegram to Jack
Bailey at the Traders' Bank. Trapped as she was, she did not want to
see an innocent man arrested. The telegram, received on Thursday, had
sent the cashier to the bank that night in a frenzy.
Louise arrived at Sunnyside and found the house rented. Not knowing
what to do, she sent for Arnold at the Greenwood Club, and told him a
little, not all. She told him that there was something wrong, and that
the bank was about to close. That his father was responsible. Of the
conspiracy she said nothing. To her surprise, Arnold already knew,
through Bailey that night, that things were not right. Moreover, he
suspected what Louise did not, that the money was hidden at Sunnyside.
He had a scrap of paper that indicated a concealed room somewhere.
His inherited cupidity was aroused. Eager to get Halsey and Jack
Bailey out of the house, he went up to the east entry, and in the
billiard-room gave the cashier what he had refused earlier in the
evening--the address of Paul Armstrong in California and a telegram
which had been forwarded to the club for Bailey, from Doctor Walker.
It was in response to one Bailey had sent, and it said that Paul
Armstrong was very ill.
Bailey was almost desperate. He decided to go west and find Paul
Armstrong, and to force him to disgorge. But the catastrophe at the
bank occurred sooner than he had expected. On the moment of starting
west, at Andrews Station, where Mr. Jamieson had located the car, he
read that the bank had closed, and, going back, surrendered himself.
John Bailey had known Paul Armstrong intimately. He did not believe
that the money was gone; in fact, it was hardly possible in the
interval since the securities had been taken. Where was it? And from
some chance remark let fall some months earlier by Arnold Armstrong at
a dinner, Bailey felt sure there was a hidden room at Sunnyside. He
tried to see the architect of the building, but, like the contractor,
if he knew of the such a room he refused any information. It was
Halsey's idea that John Bailey come to the house as a gardener, and
pursue his investigations as he could. His smooth upper lip had been
sufficient disguise, with his change of clothes, and a hair-cut by a
country barber.
So it was Alex, Jack Bailey, who had been our ghost. Not only had he
alarmed--Louise and himself, he admitted--on the circular staircase,
but he had dug the hole in the trunk-room wall, and later sent Eliza
into hysteria. The note Liddy had found in Gertrude's scrap-basket was
from him, and it was he who had startled me into unconsciousness by the
clothes chute, and, with Gertrude's help, had carried me to Louise's
room. Gertrude, I learned, had watched all night beside me, in an
extremity of anxiety about me.