He was a very precise man, very accurate, very painstaking. He was a very obdurate man, very exacting, very positive. He was a very efficient man, very dependable, very obliging. He was a very incomprehensible man, very calculating, very mysterious. And besides, he was by nature very crafty, revengeful and egotistic. None of which traits could be read in his marble-like physiognomy; but they had to be worked out, to see them plainly, by a system of watching, and close scrutiny of his acts. He had risen in the office force from the bottom, and held his present post by right of apparent merit. No one under him, or above, for that matter, ever dreamed that behind his iron mask lay another man, unscrupulous and unfaithful. No one ever thought of him but that he was honest, upright and beyond reproach. No one ever thought of him being a depraved man, as being licentious, as being impure in thought and actions; because all these things were hidden under his bushel of contrarieties. At his desk, Mr. Monroe always worked with dispatch in disposing of the matters that daily came before him; and rarely could he be approached, except by the carrier of messages, or by an important personage, and then by announcement--except the head of the firm, who, of course, had free access to his room. He was sitting, one day, enveloped in a great pile of work, when it was announced that Mr. Winthrope, the secretary, desired an audience with him. The secretary was admitted; but he was not asked to sit down. He stood before him in his own power; and he drew his own conclusions. But he said: "Mr. Monroe, do you have at hand the balance sheet of last month?" "I can get it," he answered, automatically. "Mr. Jarney desires to go over it again," said John. Mr. Monroe procured the sheet, and stiffly handed it to John, with one of his stony stares. John took the sheet and left him. When he reached the door, going out, he turned and caught the stolid face of Monroe still upon him. Neither said a word. John went out. Mr. Monroe pressed a button. A short, heavy set, square shouldered man, with green eyes, answered the button's call. He was Welty Morne, the head of the bookkeeping department. "Welty," said Monroe, familiarly, "do you ever see the secretary after work hours?" "No." "Do you know where he lives?" "At The King House, Diamond alley." "He is never out at night, is he?" "I have never seen him." "He never associates with the boys, does he?" "He seems to be a seclusive chap," said Welty. "Yes; and very selfish," said Monroe, quietly. "Does he spend any money?" "Have no way of knowing--except, perhaps, he pays his board and rent." "Let us call on him tonight, and initiate him; will you?" "I should like a little outing in this disagreeable weather, and will be happy to join you," replied Welty, with his green eyes beaming in anticipation of a lark. "Will you call at my place at nine p. m.?" "I will--whee-e-e!"