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The messenger's deferential knock was answered by a gruff command to enter. Clymer welcomed Kent with an air of relief. "You know Colonel McIntyre," he said by way of introduction, and Kent became aware that the tall man lounging with his back to him in one of the leather covered chairs was Barbara's father.
"What had Rochester to do with Jimmie Turnbull?" questioned Harding, before Kent could answer Clymer. "They lived together," he replied shortly. "And one dies and the other disappears," Harding whistled dolefully. "Wasn't Mr. Turnbull an official of this bank, Mr. Clymer?" "Yes, our cashier." "Were his affairs involved?" "Not in the least," Clymer spoke with emphasis.
"Not that I can discover," responded Taylor. "I have been to every national and private banking house in Washington, but all deny having him as a depositor. Did Rochester ever bank out of town, Kent?" "Not to my knowledge." Kent drew out a bank book. "Here is the firm's balance, Mr. Clymer; we bank here, you know." "Yes." Clymer's look of anxiety deepened. "Did you see McDonald as you came in?"
Inside the caf all was light and gaiety, and Barbara brightened perceptibly as the attentive head waiter ushered them to the table Colonel McIntyre had reserved earlier in the evening. "It's a novel idea turning the old church into a caf," Barbara remarked to Benjamin Clymer. "A sort of casting bread upon the waters of famished Washington. I wonder if they ever turn water into wine?"
"But if you knew the police were after Rochester " objected Harding. Clymer broke into the conversation; there was a heavy frown on his usually placid countenance.
Clymer." "Good! Then draw up your chair." Clymer waited until Kent had complied with his request. "You have heard of Jimmie Turnbull's sudden and tragic death?" "Yes." "As you know, he was cashier of this bank." Clymer spoke with deliberation. "Soon after word reached here of his death, the vice-president and treasurer of the bank had a careful examination made of his books and accounts."
Clymer was kneeling beside her bed, crying over the picture of a child, when Clymer entered unexpectedly and attempted to take the picture from her. She faced him defiantly. "You kept that because it looked like him, I reckon," he said. "You might run back to him. You know what he'd call you and where you'd stand with your aristocracy."
On the 6th they entreat New York, through MacDougall and Sears; Philadelphia, through Mifflin and Clymer, to insure success by "a harmony of sentiment and concurrence in action."
Brewster has testified that while you and she were sitting in the reception room, Mr. Clymer opened the window. Did you close it on leaving the room?" McIntyre reflected before answering. "I cannot remember doing so," he stated finally. "Clymer was in rather a hurry to leave, and after bidding Mrs. Brewster good night, we went straight out to the car and I drove him to the Saratoga."
Clymer Ketchum had written to Murray Bradshaw that she had asked his pretty milkmaid to come and stay awhile with her, but he had been away on business, and only arrived in the city a day or two before the party.
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