The Gates of Chance Part 7

"You don't think the money was stolen, then?"

"Not at all. It will be found in some safe place, its disposal being an act of Sydenham's subliminal personality, of which his normal consciousness knows nothing."

"But why--"

"The man was NOT himself that ninth day of January. He had received a tremendous impression in the receipt of that message from Miss Sandford. He was an accepted lover, and the consciousness, for the time being, swept him off his feet. He was doing his work mechanically, and it did not matter so long as it was only routine. Then came the emergency, and, objectively, he was unable to cope with it. The subjective personality took command and did the right thing, for Sydenham is an honest man. What action the subliminal self actually took is known only to itself, and no effort of Sydenham's normal memory will suffice to recall it. But there are other means of getting at the truth. The most practical is to reproduce the situation as exactly as possible. Given the same first causes and we get the identical results.

First, now to see Mr. Sandford, with whom luckily I have some acquaintance."

It was like the playing of a game, the scene in Sandford & Sand's office that following afternoon. The staff of clerks had been sent home as soon as possible after three o'clock, all save the young man who acted as bank messenger. The calendar on the wall had been set back to January 9th, and the HERALD of that date lay half-opened on Sydenham's old desk. It will be remembered that Sydenham had been detained on some of Mr. Sandford's private business, and it was perfectly feasible to reconstruct its details. Mr. Sandford had been coached in his part by Indiman, and the preparations for the experiment being finally perfected, Sydenham was called in. He appeared, dressed in the same clothes that he had worn the month before, looking a little pale, indeed, but resolute and collected.

"Mr. Sydenham," said Indiman, keeping his eyes fixed on the young man's face, "you will observe that this is January 9, 1903. Kindly seat yourself at your desk, and remain there as pa.s.sive as possible. Wait now until we withdraw."

Through the half-opened door of Mr. Sandford's private office we could see distinctly all that pa.s.sed. Sydenham sat motionless at his desk; Alden, the bank messenger, was within call in the outer office. The hands of the clock, which had been set back, pointed to five minutes of three.

A telegraph delivery boy entered and handed Sydenham a yellow envelope.

He signed for it and the boy withdrew. He opened it, and instead of a written message drew out a fresh sprig of heliotrope. Motionless and scarcely breathing, he sat and gazed at it as though he could never fill his eyes with the sight.

"Now," said Indiman, pus.h.i.+ng Mr. Sandford into the room where the young cas.h.i.+er sat.

The conversation was a brief one, relating to the papers that Mr.

Sandford carried in his hand.

"Leave them on your way up-town in my box at the safe-deposit company,"

concluded Mr. Sandford. Then he took his hat and went out.

Sydenham swung back to his desk; the HERALD lying there was in his way, and he tossed it onto the floor. Underneath lay a package of bills of large denominations.

The cas.h.i.+er acted quickly. "Alden!" he called, and the messenger came running in.

"I overlooked this package," said Sydenham; "it contains fifty thousand dollars. Do you think you can get to the bank with it? You have a minute and a half."

The messenger seized the package and dashed away. Sydenham looked again at the sprig of heliotrope; he pressed it pa.s.sionately to his lips.

Then carefully placing it in his pocket-book, he began an examination of the papers left by Mr. Sandford. The clock struck three.

The clerk Alden re-entered. "They wouldn't take it," he said, and handed the package of bills to Sydenham.

"Oh, very well," said the cas.h.i.+er, absently, "I'll take care of it.

That's all, Alden; you can go."

For an hour or more Sydenham worked steadily. Then, gathering the papers together, he rose, took off his office-coat, and began making preparations to depart. Once he came into Mr. Sandford's private office, where we were sitting, but apparently he did not notice our presence. Indiman gripped my hand hard. "Going splendidly," he whispered.

The cas.h.i.+er put on his hat and top-coat. The legal papers were carefully stowed in an inside pocket, and he was about to close down his roll-top desk when the package of bank-bills met his eye. He frowned perplexedly; then picking up the bundle he dropped it into the same pocket with the papers belonging to Mr. Sandford. He went out, closing the door behind him.

We followed as quickly as we could, but this time luck was against us--Sydenham had disappeared.

"To the safe-deposit company," said Indiman, and we jumped into a hansom. Mr. Sandford was there, and we waited impatiently for Sydenham's appearance; it was the only chance of again picking up the lost trail.

There he came, walking slowly up Na.s.sau Street, his manner a trifle preoccupied and his eyes bent on the pavement. Opposite the safe-deposit company he stopped and thrust his hand into a waistcoat-pocket. He took it away empty and a terrible change came over his face. With a quick movement he drew out the bundle of bank-notes and regarded it fixedly. A cry burst from his lips; he reeled and fell, the money still clutched in his hand.

Instantly we were at his side. A coach was at hand, and we got him into it and directed the driver to proceed to Indiman's lodgings. The attack had been but a momentary one, and Sydenham revived as we turned out of Park Row. He looked at us, then at the money in his hand.

"It has failed," he said, brokenly, and none of us could say a word. "I came to myself," continued Sydenham, with forced calmness, "there in Na.s.sau Street; it was as though I had awakened from a dream. The money--it was in my hand. I stood before the world, a self-convicted thief. I thank you; you have done your best, but it is useless." He pa.s.sed the money to Mr. Sandford; mechanically his hand went to the inside breast-pocket of his over-coat; he drew out the package of legal papers bearing Mr. Sandford's name. "But--but," he stammered, "I don't understand--I left these in your box at the safe-deposit company."

"To be sure you did," answered Indiman, coolly. He pulled the check-cord. "Drive back to the safe deposit," he called to the hackman.

"Now, then," said Indiman, in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone, "will you tell me the conditions under which you had access to Mr. Sandford's vault. Of course your name as an authorized agent of Mr. Sandford was on the company's books. You had your pa.s.s-key, of course?"

"No," said Mr. Sandford. "There was but one pa.s.s-key, and that I kept myself. When Mr. Sydenham had any business to do for me at the safe-deposit vaults I would let him have the key temporarily."

"You gave it to him on that particular day, the 9th of January?"

continued Indiman.

"Yes."

"Where is it now?" almost shouted Indiman.

"Here," said Mr. Sandford, in surprise. "On my key-ring."

"Exactly. There is the broken link in our psychological chain. When Mr.

Sydenham felt for the pa.s.s-key, which should have been in his pocket, he discovered that it was missing. Instantly the continuity of events was broken, the subliminal personality was again submerged, and Mr.

Sydenham's normal consciousness was re-established. Mr. Sandford, you are perfectly aware of the fact that these legal papers were properly deposited in your vault, and that the pa.s.s-key was returned to you by Mr. Sydenham on the morning of January 10th. Gentlemen, it is evident that we shall find the original fifty thousand dollars lying in Mr.

Sandford's strong-box, where it was left by Mr. Sydenham on the afternoon of January 9th."

I confess that I was mightily excited when the moment came to test the correctness of Indiman's deductions. We were shown into a private room, and, under Mr. Sandford's eye, the treasure-box belonging to him was carried in and opened. Almost at the bottom lay a long, brown Manila envelope fastened with three red rubber bands. It contained fifty one-thousand-dollar bills.

"I noticed that envelope several times," explained Mr. Sandford, "but supposed it contained some mining stock. You see here is another envelope identical in appearance and lying directly beneath it. Mr.

Sydenham never suggested even that he might have left the missing money in my safe-deposit vault."

"It never occurred to me that I could have done so," said Sydenham. "I remembered making a deposit of the papers--but the money, no, I had no recollection of having seen or touched it from the moment that Alden brought it back from the bank and laid it on my desk."

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Sandford, "I am indebted to you for much more than the mere recovery of the money. But we will speak of that again.

Where can I put you down? Mr. Sydenham I shall carry off to my house; I want to have a talk with him."

But Indiman declined to re-enter the coach, pleading some further business down-town, and, of course, I remained with him. The carriage was about to drive off when Indiman put up his hand.

"How stupid of me!" he exclaimed. "I had almost forgotten." He took from the pocket of his overcoat a rather bulky package and handed it to young Mr. Sydenham. "They'll explain themselves," he said, smiling. The coach rolled away.

"The missing letters from V. S.," said Indiman, in answer to my look of inquiry. "An average of two a day, and all addressed to him at the Utinam. Well, what was the poor girl to do? The young fool had changed his lodgings and obliterated every possible trace of his whereabouts.

All Miss Sandford had to go on was the bare intimation that he could be addressed at the Utinam Club. She might as well have posted her communications in the North River."

"I don't follow you."

"Two days ago I put a dummy letter addressed to Sydenham in his private lock-box at the Utinam. I had promised, you know, to send him on his mail if he would keep away from the club, and accordingly I had the key of the letter-box in my possession. Ten minutes later I went again to the box and it was empty--that is, you could see distinctly from one end of the box to the other, and it was absolutely bare."

"A duplicate key, of course."

"Not at all. It is only a stupid person who descends to crime--except as a last resort."