Starr walked close to Vaniman and tapped a stubby forefinger against the young man’s heaving breast.  “I’m going to give you a chance, young fellow!  I staged that little play a few moments ago so that you’d see what a fool house of cards you’re living in!  I hope you noted carefully that we did not need to go off the premises for any of our props.  I, myself, had noted in your case that everything that was used came from the premises.  Real robbers usually bring their own stuff.  Even that chloroform—­”

“I know nothing about the chloroform, sir.”

“Well, the vial was here that night, anyway!  It’s a small thing to waste time on!  I don’t profess to be at the bottom of the affair, Vaniman.  I’ll admit that it looks as if there’s a lot behind this thing—­plenty that is interesting.  I’ve got my full share of human curiosity.  I’d like to be let in on this thing, first hand.  Now come across clean!  The whole story!  Tell me where the coin is!  It’s certainly a queer case, and there must be some twist in it where I can do you a good turn.  I’ve giving you your chance, I say!”

“I have no more idea where that coin is than you have, Mr. Starr.  I never touched it.  I have already told the whole truth, so far as I know facts.”

“Now listen, Vaniman!  This town is already down!  If that gold isn’t recovered this bank failure will put the town out!  The folks are ugly.  They’re talking.  Britt says they believe you have hidden the money!”

“He does say it!” Vaniman fairly barked the words.  “No doubt he has been telling ’em so!”

Starr proceeded remorselessly.  “I have heard all the gossip about the trouble between you and Britt.  But that gossip doesn’t belong in this thing right now.  Vaniman, you know what a country town is when it turns against an outsider!  If you go before a jury on this case—­and that money isn’t in sight—­you don’t stand the show of a wooden latch on the back door of hell’s kitchen!  They’ll all come to court with what they can grub up in the way of brickbats—­facts, if they can get ’em, lies, anyway!  Come, come, now!  Dig up the coin!”

Starr’s bland persistency in taking for granted the fact that Vaniman was hiding the money snapped the overstrained leash of the cashier’s self-restraint.  In default of a general audience of the hateful Egyptian vilifiers, he used Starr as the object of his frenzied vituperation.

Mr. Starr listened without reply.

As soon as it was apparent to the bank examiner that the cashier did not intend to take advantage of the chance that had been offered, Starr marched to the door, opened it, and called.  The corridor, it seemed, was serving as repository for various properties required in the drama which Mr. Starr had staged that day.  The man who entered wore a gold badge—­and a gold badge marks the high sheriff of a county.  Starr handed a paper to the officer.  “Serve it,” he commanded, curtly.