"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. "A most honorable
fellow, Jimmie Turnbull; his murder was a shocking affair."
"Have the police found any motive for the crime, Kent?" asked Taylor.
"I believe not."
Harding, who had been ruminating in silence, leaned forward, his
expression alight with a sudden idea.
"Could it be that Turnbull found out that Rochester was passing
forged checks, and Rochester insured his silence by Poisoning him?"
he asked.
Clymer and Kent exchanged glances, as Kent's thoughts reverted to
the forged letter presented by Turnbull to the bank's treasurer,
whereby he had been given McIntyre's valuable negotiable securities.
Could it be that Rochester had written the letter, given it to his
room-mate, Turnbull, and the latter, thinking it genuine, had secured
the McIntyre securities and handed them over to Rochester? The idea
took Kent's breath away; and yet, the more he contemplated it, the
more feasible it appeared.
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