“To all Parties interested: Mr. Bellair left our employ suddenly and without furnishing customary warning,” the president dictated. “Finding a certain explanation in the vault, instead of a sum slightly over one thousand dollars belonging to this firm, we hastily assumed that his sudden departure was energised by the usual conditions. In fact, such a suspicion was stated to the press by this firm. We have since found Mr. Bellair’s accounts to be correct in every detail, and we furnish this letter to express in part our concern for Mr. Bellair’s character which our hasty conclusion impinged upon. Mr. Bellair left a letter of explanation in the vault, but his action in leaving abruptly and without explanation forced us on the spur of the moment to discredit it. However, the statement of his letter proved true, and the money taken by Mr. Bellair was the exact amount of his surety bond, with stipulated interest, and his salary to the hour of departure.” * * * * * “You have heard it?” Mr. Nathan inquired. “Yes, it will do,” said Bellair. The president nodded to his stenographer, who whisked out. “It will be ready in a moment,” he said. “I will sign it for Lot & Company.... Bellair, are you sure you don’t want your old desk back?” “Quite sure,” said Bellair. Mr. Jabez and Mr. Rawter had departed. Bellair glanced at his watch. It was a moment past the hour of Mr. Broadwell’s leaving for luncheon. The advertising-man, of course, was aware of his presence in the lower office. Bellair stepped out, however, to make sure of his appointment. Broadwell, hat in hand, was engaged in talk with Mr. Jabez. Bellair returned to the office of the president to wait for the stenographer. Not more than two minutes later, Davy Acton came in with this message: “Mighty sorry to call luncheon off. Am hurrying to catch a train for Philadelphia for the rest of the day. Will see you later.--Broadwell.” ... Bellair folded this thoughtfully. The stenographer brought the letter with copy. The front draft was approved for signature, and Bellair’s morning work accomplished. In the hall he met Davy Acton, and followed a quick impulse. “Davy, lad, how soon will you be ready to go out to lunch?” “In about three minutes----” “I’ll wait for you. I’m going your way.” Davy’s customary exit was the side-door. Bellair waited there accordingly. The girls were coming down the iron stairway from the bindery. He stepped back in the shadow to let them pass. There were figures and faces that clutched at his throat.... And then a story began, half way up the first flight, and came nearer and nearer, the voice carrying easily to one who listened with emotion: “Did you know that Mr. Bellair was back?... Bellair, the absconding clerk--Mr. Sproxley’s assistant. Lot & Company has refused to prosecute. He will not be arrested.... And think of his nerve--asking his old position back----”