Bellair was ill. The nausea crept down through his limbs, and up to his throat. The thing had worked out before him with such surety and clarity. The head of Mr. Sproxley moved about as if on a swivel, his body in writing position still. Presently he stepped down from his high stool, and came to Bellair’s side. Placing his pen behind his ear, he lifted the ledger from under Bellair’s eyes, his lips compressed with the effort. Then he placed it on his own desk to close it tenderly, after which it was taken to its niche in the vault. The office was silent. Just now Bellair’s eyes turned as if subtly attracted to the place where Eben Wetherbee sat. The young man’s smileless eyes, almost insane with apprehension and sadness, were turned with extraordinary intent upon the place where his father sat. Bellair’s followed. The old man sat plumped in his chair; he gulped, tried to turn. His face looked as if he heard a ghost whispering. Yet he seemed unable to trust himself, hardly daring to meet the eyes that awaited. His hands lifted to the papers before him, but did not feel properly. He seemed a man of eighty. Mr. Eben came forward at last and asked Mr. Sproxley if he might look at the Prentidd transaction. “It isn’t posted yet, Mr. Eben,” said the cashier. * * * * * At the side door at closing time, Bellair happened to pass a party of young women coming down from the bindery. One was saying: “... and Mr. Prentidd was quite helpless after the scene--so that they had to call a taxi-cab for him. Isn’t it dreadful he drinks so?” * * * * * There was a personal result for Bellair, which he at no time misunderstood. “We have considered creating a position for you next to Mr. Sproxley,” said the elder Mr. Wetherbee, the second morning following. Bellair bowed. “Since you have been with us less than three years, this is very good comment on the character of your services and our hope for your future with us----” “What additional salary goes with the position?” Bellair had asked. “If I followed my own inclination, it would be considerable. I have been able to secure for you, however, but a slight increase----” This was one of Mr. Seth’s little ways. He added hopes of fine quality. There was a further point: “You will at times handle considerable money and we must insist upon your putting in trust for us the sum of two thousand dollars.” “I haven’t two thousand dollars, Mr. Wetherbee,” Bellair said. “Of course, we trust you. It is a form--a form, nevertheless, upon which a valuable relation of this kind should be placed on a business basis.” Bellair repeated. “But you have friends----” “Not with two thousand dollars’ surety for me--no friend like that.” “Banks insist upon this--among those employés who handle much money----” “I know--but that amount cannot be arranged.” “How much can you put in trust available to Lot & Company in event of your departure----”