Jacques Futrelle

“ So, you see, I had no bonds; no bonds were stolen; I didn’t even report the bonds were stolen. I’m sorry I have to put myself in this position; but it’s only fair to my good friend Smith. He is an official in my bank at home, and the last man on earth that one could associate with theft.”
MR. SMITH’S eyes were bulging with admiration. He had never known the old man to fail in a crisis, and he hadn’t failed now. Edna was smiling softly as she stroked the emaciated hand she held. M. Baudet’s face was corrugated with wrinkles of perplexity.
“It was a trick, then?” demanded the Marquis curtly. ”

“ Smith’s arrest. It was my original purpose to raise funds in the United States to go into this enterprise. I lost so much time, however, that when the Marquis came to me with a statement that the deal must be consummated within a day or so it was impossible to get funds from the United States in time. I was confident, however, that I could get the funds from London. I was so confident that I told the Marquis I had the bonds, and even told him their denomination, and showed him the bag that was supposed to hold them.
“There are tricks in your profession, M. Baudet, just as there are in mine. ”

“ I didn’t get the funds from London as I expected; but I permitted the deal to go ahead up to the point where I was to pay a million and a half dollars as my part. Then I opened the bag to produce the bonds, and it was empty. It was a trick by which I calculated to hold up the deal for a couple of weeks,—in other words, to gain time,—enabling me to come in later. ”