He paused uncertainly, and then went on hurriedly: “Last week securities to the value of thirty thousand dollars, which I supposed were in the safe and which should have been there, were returned from a broker's office. Mr. Haviland has been speculating. I have known this for some time, but I did not know that it was with the funds of the company until these securities were handed me by mistake.” “You are quite sure of what you say, Norton?” the director asked. “These are very grave charges you are making.” “I am quite sure, Mr. Bliss. I suppose he expects to return every dollar he has taken,” John added. It was a comfort to be able to say a good word for Haviland. “No doubt,—every man who speculates with money not his own intends to do that. Haviland will be called on to make good within twenty-four hours, and if he can't—why—” The pause was eloquent. He was silent for a moment; then he said: “Tell me as nearly as you can just what passed between you to-night.” Slowly and carefully John gave the substance of his interview with Haviland, while Mr. Bliss watched him narrowly. “And you want to resign, Norton?” he asked at length. “Yes.” Bliss laughed shortly. “Why don't you ask for an increase of salary,—you'll be more apt to get that.” “I haven't told you what I have with any hope of that sort, Mr. Bliss,” said John a little stiffly. “No—of course not. But put the notion that you are to resign out of your head. More likely you'll be asked to help reorganize the company under my direction,—for Bliss, Haviland and Company can't go under, no matter what ducks and drakes Haviland has made of our money.” John came slowly to his feet. “I must go home to my wife now,” he said, “she will be wondering what has kept me so late.” “Wait a moment,” said Bliss. “I'll go with you. Let me call a cab,” and he summoned the footman. “It is very kind of you,” said John. “But is there any reason for it?” “It's just as well. We must see the directors before nine o'clock.” As John leaned back in his seat in the cab, Bliss said kindly: “You look worn out, Norton.” “I am tired,” he admitted; but beyond his fatigue and weariness he was feeling a sense of peace, security and hope. His old ambition, long dead, as he told himself, stirred within him. After all,—after all the waiting and doubt and fear, success had come at last when he least expected it. The cab drew up before the dingy flat-house where he lived, and John sprang lightly to the pavement. They entered the building. It was still quite dark in the narrow halls, but as they came to the landing before his own door John gave a start. Two men were standing there; one was Haviland, and the other a stranger. Over their shoulders he caught a glimpse of Alice's white scared face. Hearing his steps, Haviland turned with a hungry wolfish look. “This is the man,” he said shortly. “Arrest him.” The stranger moved forward, but Bliss, coming slowly up the dark stairs, said gently: