The janitor started, and looked almost frightened. “Be careful what you say,” whispered he; then with a keen look at Mr. Wheelock just then on the point of entering the directors’ room, he was turning to escape by the little door just mentioned, when it opened and Mr. Stuyvesant came in. With a look almost of terror the janitor recoiled, throwing himself as it were between the latter and the door of the safe; but recovering himself, surveyed the keen quiet visage of the veteran banker with a rolling of his great eyes absolutely painful to behold. Mr. Stuyvesant, who was somewhat absorbed in thought, did not appear to notice the agitation he had caused, and with just a hurried nod followed Mr. Wheelock into the Directors’ room. Instantly the janitor drew himself up with an air of relief, and shortly glancing at the clock which lacked a few minutes yet of the time fixed for the meeting, slided hastily away from Bertram’s detaining hand, and disappeared in the crowd without. In another moment Bertram saw him standing at the outer door, looking anxiously up and down the street. “Something _is_ wrong,” murmured Bertram. “What?” And for a moment he felt half tempted to return Mr. Stuyvesant’s friendly bow with a few words expressive of his uneasiness, but the emphasis with which Hopgood had murmured the words, “Be careful what you say,” unconsciously deterred him, and concealing his nervousness as best he might, he entered the Directors’ office. It was now time for the meeting to open, and the gentlemen were all seated around the low green baize table that occupied the centre of the room. Impatience was written on all their countenances. Mr. Stuyvesant especially was looking at the heavy gold watch in his hand, with a frown on his deeply wrinkled brow that did not add to its expression of benevolence. The empty seat at the head of the table stared upon Bertram uncompromisingly. “My wife gives a reception to-day,” ventured one gentleman to his neighbor. “And I have an engagement at five that won’t bear postponement.” “Sylvester has always been on hand before.” “We can’t proceed without him,” was the reply. Mr. Wheelock looked thoughtful. With a nod of his head towards such gentlemen as met his eye, Bertram hastened to a little cupboard devoted to the use of himself and uncle. Opening it, he looked within, took down a coat he saw hanging before him, and unconsciously uttered an exclamation. It was a dress-coat such as had been worn by Mr. Sylvester the evening before. “What does this mean! My uncle has been here!” were the words that sprang to his lips; but he subdued his impulse to speak, and hastily hanging up the coat, relocked the door. Proceeding at once to the outer room, he asked two or three of the clerks if they were sure Mr. Sylvester had not been in during the day. But they all returned an unequivocal “no,” and that too with a certain stare of surprise that at once convinced him he was betraying his agitation too plainly.