The scene was so extraordinary that no man among them seemed capable of uttering so much as a syllable, so great was their consternation at beholding their employer on his knees, groveling before the old cashier, who stood over him like an aroused, avenging spirit. In a voice high and clear the old cashier, whom they had known and revered for years, told his story in a simple, straightforward way, yet quivering with excitement, drawing his terror-stricken daughter Margery into the shelter of his strong arms as he spoke. "I am Margery's father--her only protector," he said, in conclusion. "Is there a man among you with a father's heart beating in his bosom who would not have done as I have done to the villain who dared to thus insult his child. Ay, there are men among you who would not have hesitated to have stricken him dead with a single blow--who would have considered it a crime to have spared him." By this time Kendale was recovering from the stunning blows which had been dealt him--realized that help was at hand; the employees would be in duty bound to protect him from the enraged man before him. He realized, too, that the old cashier meant that he should remain there on his knees and beg the girl's pardon before all these people. Ere Mr. Conway could judge of his design the bogus Lester Armstrong had bounded to his feet and into the midst of the crowd. "You are discharged!" he cried, turning to the old cashier. "I will give you just ten minutes to get out of this building--you and the girl, both of you. It was a plan hatched up between you and her to extort money from me." The old cashier attempted to spring at him, but the strong hands of indignant, pitying friends held him back. Suddenly he stopped short, saying, with a dignity wonderful to behold: "It is not necessary, I think, to ask any of you, who all know me so well and know also my little Margery, not to give credence to so heinous a statement. I am going from this place, friends. I would not stay another moment in this villain's employ, nor would my Margery, though he weighed us down with all the wealth the world holds. Come, Margery." The crowd slowly parted, making way for them, and together Margery and her father passed through the line of sympathizing faces, hand in hand--the old man white, stern and resolute, pretty Margery sobbing as though her heart would break. Mr. Wright, the manager, who had been--like the old cashier--fully five and twenty years beneath that roof, turned and faced the throng, saying, huskily: "Mr. Armstrong, I herewith tender you my resignation. My friend of a lifetime is going, and I shall go, too." "And I," "And I," "And I," quickly rang out, voice after voice. "Confound you all, I discharge the whole lot of you!" shouted Kendale, now quite sobered by the excitement he was passing through. "Don't think your going troubles me even a little bit. The set of men don't live who will ever trouble me or my business!"