"
"That's pretty much like a story-book," drawled the inspector
incredulously, shaking his head.
"Perhaps," smiled Kennedy. "But there will still be plenty of
work for the police to do, too. I've only got a clue to the
murderer. It will take the whole organisation to follow it up,
believe me. Now, Inspector, can you spare the time to go down to
Parker's office and take me over the ground? No doubt we can
develop something else there."
"Sure," answered O'Connor, and within five minutes we were
hurrying down town in one of the department automobiles.
We found the office under guard of one of the Central Office men,
while in the outside office Parker's confidential clerk and a few
assistants were still at work in a subdued and awed manner. Men
were working in many other Wall Street offices that night during
the panic, but in none was there more reason for it than here.
Later I learned that it was the quiet tenacity of this
confidential clerk that saved even as much of Parker's estate as
was saved for his widow--little enough it was, too. What he saved
for the clients of the firm no one will ever know. Somehow or
other I liked John Downey, the clerk, from the moment I was
introduced to him. He seemed to me, at least, to be the typical
confidential clerk who would carry a secret worth millions and
keep it.
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