“I second the motion,” laughed Vance, getting on his feet. “The motion having been duly made and seconded, I declare it carried, and this meeting stands adjourned pro tempore.” CHAPTER X. STRUCK DOWN. Vance Thornton and his new friend William Bradhurst, the many-times millionaire, expected to reach Chicago over the P. C. C. and St. L. railroad at about seven o’clock on the morning following their departure from the Missouri junction town. Their calculations were correct, and the train was entering the Union Depot, corner of Adams and Canal streets, when Jared Whitemore, after a visit to the Chicago National Bank, where he had received and perused Vance’s last letter, mailed after his departure from Elevatorville, was ascending to his office in the Rookery building. Bessie Brown looked up as Mr. Whitemore entered the outer office, so also did Mr. Vyce, the bookkeeper. Both noticed that their employer looked unusually stern. The assistant bookkeeper was out attending to matters that usually fell to Vance to transact. Without looking either to the right or left, Mr. Whitemore entered his private room. Presently Bessie’s electric alarm buzzed, and she hastened into the boss’ sanctum. In a few minutes she returned to her machine, copied a short letter addressed to Jarboe, Willicutt & Co., locked up her notebook and proceeded to put on her hat, an unusual circumstance at that hour. “Are you going out, Miss Brown?” inquired Mr. Vyce in some surprise. “Yes, sir,” answered Bessie coldly. “Rather early for lunch, is it not?” he asked, coming to the end of his desk and regarding her movements curiously. “I am not going to lunch.” “Then you are going out on business for Mr. Whitemore, I take it?” Bessie made no answer, but having got her hat on straight, she deliberately walked to the outer door and passed into the corridor. “You seem to be putting on a whole lot of airs with me, young lady,” snarled the bookkeeper to the empty office; “all of a sudden, too. You haven’t spoken a civil word to me since that young cub Thornton went away on confidential business for the old man. I shall make it my business to take you down a peg or two. If I am not mistaken in my calculations, you’ll be looking for a new job before long, Bessie Brown--you and that young imp, curse him! If I can keep you both out of the financial district you may depend upon my exertions to that effect.” At that moment his alarm went off, and sticking his pen into the rack, he walked into the private office. “Sit down, Mr. Vyce,” said the big corn operator curtly. “You have been in my employ a matter of six years, I think?” “About that time,” replied the bookkeeper, rather taken back by the question, which bore a fatally significant bearing. “During the last three years you have enjoyed a considerable degree of my confidence, which has, if anything, increased since the first of the year. How have you returned this trust I reposed in you, sir?”