"Well, perhaps, I didn't," admitted Dryden; "but I knew about the
books."
"Besides that," continued the bank examiner, "Mr. Forrester was in town
this afternoon when we got to the bank and this is the first time we
have seen him, so we could not very well have done anything other than
we have done in any case. I mention this because you are talking wildly,
and that sort of talk, if it gets out, won't do any of us any good. You
don't want to blame Mr. Marner here and myself for Mr. Forrester's
death, do you?"
"No--of course, I don't!" said Dryden, in a more subdued voice. "I
don't mean that at all. I guess you're right--I'm excited. I--well"--he
motioned jerkily toward the form on the floor--"I'm not used to walking
into a room and finding _that_."
It was Marner, the other bank examiner, who broke a moment's silence.
"We none of us are," he said, and brushed his hand across his forehead.
"A doctor can't do any good, of course, but I suppose we should call one
at once, and notify the police, too. I--"
Jimmie Dale had slipped through the door and out into the hall. A moment
more and he had descended the stairs and gained the street, still
another and he had stepped nonchalantly into his car.
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