CHAPTER XV.
THE NEW BROOM DID NOT SWEEP CLEAN.
Clinton Kendale showed himself to be a thorough actor in carrying out apart carefully, as he followed the boy through the main office, whereall of the bookkeepers were at work, toward the little office in therear.
"Ah, this is indeed comfortable," he exclaimed, flinging himself into aluxurious leather armchair. "Throw the coat down anywhere, and go," hesaid, as the boy stood before him awaiting his dismissal.
"Great Scott! What an elegant nest Lester got himself into!" heejaculated, looking about him. "I can enjoy it far better than he could,though I don't expect to be cooped up here more than an hour or two aday. Those fellows out there in the outer office are paid to do thework, and I'll be hanged if they shan't do it--every bit of it. I'llbreak 'em in my way, and they'll think it's new rules. By George!they'll find plenty of new rules. Ha! ha! ha! I suppose I'd better beopening that desk."
Feeling in his pocket, he drew forth the bunch of keys which he hadtaken by force from his cousin. One by one he fitted each to the lock,but none of them seemed to work.
"Confound the thing!" he muttered. "My patience won't last much longer.Then I'll stave it in with my heel.
"Hello, there!" he cried, as, hearing a slight noise behind him, hewheeled around and found an elderly man, with a pen behind his ear, anda sheet of paper in his hand, standing there.
"Why the deuce didn't you knock?" he cried, angrily and flushing hotly,for he realized this man must have witnessed his vain attempts to openthe desk. "What do you want?" he asked sharply and ill-humoredly.
Mr. Conway, the old cashier--for it was he--was looking at him withdilated, amazed eyes; but in a moment he recovered himself.
"You said to come into your office quite as soon as you came thismorning, as you wished to see me on particular business, Mr. Armstrong,"he replied in the low voice habitual with him.
For an instant the bogus Lester Armstrong's brows were knit closelytogether; then he said, coolly, sharply: "I've changed my mind; I don'twant to see you."
Still the man lingered.
"Pardon me," he said. "I thought probably it might be in regard to thosenotes of Jordan & Beckwith which you were considering negotiating for."
"Well, you'll have to think again," exclaimed the other, tartly.
Mr. Conway turned toward the door, but as he stretched out his hand tograsp the knob his employer sang out, sharply:
"Hold on, there! Come here and see if you can do anything with thisconfounded desk. It's got the jim-jams or something. I've been monkeyingwith it for the last half hour, and can do nothing with it." And as heuttered the words, he held out the bunch of keys toward him.
If Mr. Conway had been startled before, he was certainly alarmed now,and he looked at his companion in amazement which could not beconcealed.
"Well," cried the other, his temper rising, the result of the brandydiffusing itself through his brain, "what are you staring at me likethat for? Why don't you take the keys and go ahead?"
Quite as soon as speech would come to him the old cashier said, slowly:
"You seem to forget, Mr. Armstrong, that the keys have been done awaywith some time, and the desk now opens with a secret spring which youyourself devised."
"Well, come here and open it. My fingers are all thumbs to-day,"replied his companion, looking at him doggedly.
Mr. Conway stepped forward and touched what appeared to be one of thebrass nails that studded the outer rim, and, as if by magic, the deskflew open, the other watching keenly to see how he did it.
Without further comment Mr. Conway turned away and with slow, heavytread left the private office and walked toward his desk. When hereached it his emotions overcame him completely, and he laid his headdown upon his ledger, tears falling like rain down his face.
In an instant half a dozen of his fellow bookkeepers were about him,frightened beyond words at this unusual scene and inquiring what couldbe the matter.
For a moment the old cashier hesitated, then he resolved to break thetruth to them; they would soon find it out for themselves; he would tellthem, and at the same time instruct them as best he could in thisunfortunate affair. He raised his white head, the head that had growngray in the employ of the firm he had loved so well and served sofaithfully.
"You must know the truth, my fellows," he answered, slowly, huskily, andwith apparent difficulty. "Our Mr. Armstrong has, for the first timesince we have all known him, gone wrong; he is under the influence ofstrong drink, and by no means himself. I may add that I earnestly praythat each of you be loyal to him, even through this misfortune, and notlet even a hint of it go forth to the outside world, for at this crisisit would ruin the well-known firm of Marsh & Co., which is now vested inhim."
The horror and amazement on the faces of the men can better be imaginedthan described. All had loved and revered Lester Armstrong, and to hearthat he had suddenly gone wrong because he had become possessed of afortune was alarming and distressing news to them.
"Drink changes him so completely in temperament that it is hard torealize that he is the same courteous companion of those other days. Hewas so far gone from the effects of liquor I am not even sure that herecognized me. Hark! what is that?"
Several of the detectives of the place were rushing through the mainoffice toward the private office, in answer to Mr. Armstrong's summons.The call for them had been so furious that they rushed in pell-mell,without waiting to take time to rap.
The bogus Mr. Lester Armstrong still sat in the luxurious leatherarmchair, his heels on the desk, fairly hidden in heavy clouds of bluesmoke from his Havana cigar, at which he was puffing vigorously, fairlygoing into convulsions of laughter over a letter bearing a blue andgold monogram, which he was reading.
The unceremonious entrance of the four men caused him to spring suddenlyto his feet.
"What the d---l do you fellows want?" he exclaimed angrily. "How dareyou intrude upon me, in my private office, in this unheard-of fashion,like a herd of escaped lunatics?"
"You rang for us," replied one of the men.
"I did not," replied the bogus Mr. Armstrong, resuming his seatpompously.
"The bells certainly rang, sir!" exclaimed the other three,simultaneously.
"Didn't I tell you that I didn't ring?" he answered, stamping his feetfuriously.
In less time than it takes to tell it three more men dashed into theprivate office, exclaiming:
"We are here, sir, at the very first tap of your bell."
"You have all gone suddenly stark mad, or you are a set of the blamedestfools in existence, as I have just told these men. I did not ring. Whaton earth do you mean, by insisting that I did, I should like to know?"
"I beg your pardon, but you are still ringing, sir," declared one of themen. "We can distinctly hear the bell ringing furiously. Do you not seethat your foot is still on it?"
"My foot!" exclaimed the bogus Mr. Armstrong, angrily. "Explain what youmean at once."
For answer, the man stepped forward, and pulled aside the mat under hisemployer's feet, mentally wondering if Mr. Lester Armstrong had notgrown suddenly daft himself, thereby disclosing a set of electricbuttons which the rug had cunningly concealed.
"You kept your foot on them and they rang, calling us here instantly,"returned the man.
"Bless me! I forgot entirely about those confounded electric buttons,"declared the bogus Armstrong, turning very red. "I'll have 'em putsomewhere else to-morrow; great nuisance; always in the way." And afteran instant a bright thought occurred to him, and he said blandly: "Well,to tell you the truth, men, I was only trying you to see how quickly youwould respond; you may all go now."
The men quitted the private office, looking rather dumfounded into eachother's blank faces, and in less than half an hour afterward everyemployee in the vast dry goods establishment heard the shocking news,that Mr. Lester Armstrong, whom they all believed well-nigh perfect, wasterribly intoxicated up in his private office, but they were to
bestill more astounded ere the eventful day closed.
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