"It would be the happiest day of my life when I could displace the fellow by stepping into his shoes." "Would you be willing to take any chances to accomplish that very thing?" "Yes, sir, I would do anything--except resort to bloodshed--to become cashier." "I have a reason for wishing to get rid of him." "Yes, sir, I think I know why." "Ah, you do? Why is it?" "You do not want him for a son-in-law." "That's it, exactly. Now how can we get rid of him? Have you any ideas on the subject?" "I have not thought of it, but will carry out any plan you may suggest. Don't be afraid to trust me, for I hate the fellow even worse than you do. He has lorded it over me the past few weeks, and I would like to see him disgraced." "Well, have you any idea you could arrange a trap for him to fall into?" "Yes, yes; a job could be put up that would send him to prison and, blast him! I would be glad to boss it." The words were spoken with force, direct from the heart of the teller, so the Senator at once saw his way clear. "What can you do and when can you do it?" he asked. "With your assistance and co-operation I can fix a job making him a defaulter," replied Sargent. "Go to work at once. Keep me informed of your movements. Be discreet, and report your plans to me here to-morrow evening. Your reward for the faithful performance of the work shall be the cashiership." The two separated, and as Sargent passed out he smiled, and said to himself: "I will crush the fellow, and glory in his downfall. I wonder, though, if some day the Senator won't put somebody up to crushing me in the same way?" CHAPTER XVIII. GEORGE AND FANNIE ALDEN. George Alden resided in a neat little cottage on a side street. His house was presided over by his sister Fannie, his senior by ten years. The dwelling, in no way pretentious, was simple in all its appointments, and the very perfection of neatness. The little parlor was not elegant, but all about were to be seen evidences of the cultivated taste of its occupants. The tables were covered with books of poems from both early and later authors, while many classical works could be seen upon the shelves of a pretty but quaint mahogany bookcase that rose from floor to ceiling on one side of the apartment. The handsomest piece of furniture in the house was a large square piano. On entering we behold a dark-haired lady sitting before the instrument, while her fingers glide over the ivory keys. The performer is lost in her delightful pastime, her face glowing with enthusiasm, and, the last strain finished, she rises from the instrument, and we behold the sister of George Alden.