“Yes. Well, I guess Davy did well enough, although I don’t know just what his duties were: I remember he got a small raise at Christmas. Then, along in February, a thousand-dollar bond disappeared. Of course I didn’t hear the exact details, but there wasn’t any doubt that Davy had seen it last. He claimed that he had put it in the safe, as he’d been told to do, but it couldn’t be found and Watkins and Boyle were pretty nasty. Of course Mr. Benjy wouldn’t believe that Davy had swiped it――I don’t think he did, either――and he was all broken up. He offered to repay the amount, and he’s still doing it, but the factory folks thought something ought to be done to Davy. So about two days after the bond disappeared the cops came along one morning, looking for him. They didn’t find him, though, because he had beat it the night before.” “Then he did steal the money?” exclaimed Barry. “Well, I wouldn’t advise you to suggest that downstairs,” answered the other, dryly. “Of course in a case like that the natural supposition is that the fellow is guilty. If he wasn’t he’d stick around and face the music. That’s what ’most everybody said; or if they didn’t say it they thought it. But I don’t know, Barry. You see, the bond was gone. If Davy didn’t have it he couldn’t prove he hadn’t. Maybe he figured he’d get treated sort of rough if he stayed here. Maybe he thought the bond would turn up and he could come back. Maybe he didn’t do much thinking at all――just ran away because he was scared. If he was innocent he did the wrong thing, of course; but, then, being arrested isn’t very pleasant, I suppose, even if they let you off later. Anyway, Davy disappeared and that ended the matter.” “Was the bond――what-you-call-it?” “Negotiable? Yes, a brand-new one that had just reached the office, with all its nice little coupons attached. None of the coupons have ever been presented for collection, and Mr. Benjy considers that proof positive that Davy hasn’t the bond. He’s convinced that the thing will turn up around the office some day, and from the way he described that office to me last spring I wouldn’t be surprised if he was right. It’s one of those places where the bookkeepers still sit on high stools and they file things away in shoe-boxes!” “And Mr. Benjy is still paying back the thousand dollars?” “I suppose so. He was, anyway. As he’s getting only about eighteen dollars where he is now, I fancy it’ll take some time!” “Eighteen dollars a week? Then they fired him from the other place?”