Therefore he required a steady flow of money in considerable sums. It was a situation which no fatuous, self-righteous man could handle. It called for imagination, lack of righteousness, a cleverness in device, a fearlessness of God and man, lawlessness, daring. Honest methods of business could not save him.... Abner Fownes was in a bad way.... And yet when money had been required it was produced. He tided things over. He produced considerable amounts from nowhere and there was no inquiring mind to ask questions. They accepted the fact. Abner always had controlled money, and it was in no wise surprising that he should continue to control money.... One thing is worthy of note. Abner kept in his private safe a private set of books, or rather, a single book. It was not large, but it was ample for the purpose. In this book Abner’s own gold fountain pen made entries, and of these entries his paid bookkeepers in the office without had no knowledge whatever. The books of Abner Fownes, Incorporated, showed a story quite different from that unfolded by the pages of the little red morocco book in Abner’s safe. There came a rap on the door, and Abner, with a quick, instinctive movement of his whole gelatinous body, became the Abner Fownes the village knew, pompous, patronizingly urbane, insufferably self-satisfied. “Come in,” he said. The door opened and Deputy Jenney quite filled the opening. He stepped quickly inside, and closed the door after him with elaborate caution. “Don’t be so confounded careful,” Abner said. “There’s nothing like a parade of carefulness to make folks suspect something.” “Huh!... Jest wanted to report we hain’t seen nothin’ of that motortruck of your’n that was stole.” He grinned broadly. “Figger to git some news of it to-night--along about midnight, maybe.” “Let Peewee know.” “I have.” “Er----” Abner assumed character again. “I have heard stories of this Lakeside Hotel.... Blot on the county.... Canker in our midst. Stories of debauchery.... Corrupt the young.... Duty of the prosecutor to investigate.” “Eh?” “I shall come out publicly and demand it,” said Abner. “The place should be closed. I shall lead a campaign against it.” Deputy Jenney’s eyes grew so big the lids quite disappeared in the sockets. “Say----” he began. “This Peewee Bangs--so called--should be driven out. No telling. Probably sells whisky.... Do you suppose he sells liquor, Deputy?” “I--why--I don’t b’lieve Peewee’d do no sich thing. No, sir.” “I shall find out.... By the way, I note that Lancelot Bangs has an advertisement in the _Free Press_. Tell him to discontinue it--or his profits will drop. Make it clear.” “Say, that professor wrote a piece about me in to-day’s paper. Can’t make out what he’s hittin’ at. For two cents I’d lambaste him till he couldn’t drag himself off on his hind laigs.”