There was every reason in the world why it should be news to him. He had neither seen nor heard from Force since that Christmas morning ultimatum. Purposely Mr. Bingle had stayed away from the bank, where, as its first vice-president, he was wont to spend much of his time looking after the comfort and advancement of the bookkeepers and clerks. He never overlooked an opportunity to help his old comrades in the "galleys." The board of directors were compelled to fight him constantly in order to keep him from putting through his plan to raise all wages, and there came near to being a catastrophe when they voted down his ridiculous scheme for providing fresh air for the lungs of the workers in the "pen." He made certain comparisons in which Russia was frequently mentioned and three or four of the directors afterwards referred to him as an "undignified little ass." But now he hesitated about going to the bank. Somehow, he could not quite bring himself to the point of encountering the president of the bank in his capacity as head of the great and reputable concern. Never again would he be able to look upon Sydney Force as the right man for the place. He could only think of him as "a man called Hinman." Being a charitable soul, however, he stood ready to overlook much that was obnoxious in the character of the man if the time ever came when he openly revealed a contrite heart and a disposition to make amends in the proper way. "To be gone for three months, I hear," said Flanders, looking at his watch. "I say, Mr. Bingle, doesn't it seem to you that the afternoon lessons are a little longer than usual? It's five o'clock. I have to be back in town before half-past six." Mr. Bingle did not reply. A sudden cause for rejoicing had sprung up, occupying all of his attention. For three months, at least, he would be free to call Kathleen his own, and for three months he could go to the bank without being disturbed by the workings of his own conscience--for after all, a visible Mr. Force would be something of a tax upon his sense of honour. Flanders waited for a moment and then began winding his watch. "Ahem!" he coughed. "News to me," repeated Mr. Bingle, rising above his reflections. "By the way, sir, it may interest you to know that I'm getting along nicely with the play." "Good! I'm glad to hear it. They tell me there is a great deal of money to be made out of a good play."