William then slowly and concisely detailed the various points upon which he founded his suspicions.  The fact that Eugene Pearson had been seen in intimate conversation with the suspected man, his presence at the bank on the afternoon of the robbery, his actions, cowardly at best, when the assault was made upon the helpless girl, his peculiar statements since, and then the manner of his release by the aid of the ten-cent silver piece.  Taking a coin from his pocket, he requested Mr. Silby to attempt the feat upon the slight lock upon the office door, which he tried, and though he labored strenuously, he was unable to move it.  He also informed him that Manning had attempted the same thing upon the lock of the vault door, and that he could not budge a screw.  All these facts he pointed out to the old gentleman as strong proofs of the young man’s guilt.

Mr. Silby sat during this recital with a dazed and stricken look upon his face, and when William had finished, he sat for a time in speechless amazement.  Recovering himself at length, he said: 

“Mr. Pinkerton, this may all prove to be true; but at present, you must excuse me, I cannot believe it—­it is too terrible.”

True and trustful old man! he could not be brought to believe that one so dearly loved and highly trusted could prove so base and undeserving.

“Now, Mr. Silby,” said William, “I have only this to ask—­I may be wrong, or I may be right; but until definite results are achieved, I must request you to keep this matter a profound secret, and to keep a close watch upon young Pearson without exciting his suspicion; will you do this?”

“I will do what you request,” responded Mr. Silby; “but believe me, you will find that you are mistaken.”

“Another thing,” continued William.  “If at any time I should telegraph to you these words—­’Look out for that package!’ please remember that ‘that package’ means Pearson, and he must not be allowed to go away.”

“All this I will do, because I know you are doing what you think best; but I am confident all will be made right for the boy in good time.”

“For your sake, Mr. Silby, I hope so, too, but I am not so sanguine of that:  and we cannot afford to take any risks.”

Mr. Silby arose to his feet, and grasping my son’s hand, withdrew without a word.  As he passed out, William looked after him with a feeling of compassion he rarely experienced.

“It is a great pity,” he murmured to himself, “that so much strong, manly faith should be so sadly misplaced, and I fear very much that before we are through with this case, Mr. Silby’s trust in human nature will be badly shattered.  But we must do our duty, and the right must triumph at last—­we must await the result.”

CHAPTER VI.

The Detective at Woodford.—­An Interview with the Discarded Wife of Newton Edwards.