CHAPTER XV.
THE NEW BROOM DID NOT SWEEP CLEAN.
Clinton Kendale showed himself to be a thorough actor in carrying out a part carefully, as he followed the boy through the main office, where all of the bookkeepers were at work, toward the little office in the rear.
"Ah, this is indeed comfortable," he exclaimed, flinging himself into a luxurious leather armchair. "Throw the coat down anywhere, and go," he said, as the boy stood before him awaiting his dismissal.
"Great Scott! What an elegant nest Lester got himself into!" he ejaculated, looking about him. "I can enjoy it far better than he could, though I don't expect to be cooped up here more than an hour or two a day. Those fellows out there in the outer office are paid to do the work, and I'll be hanged if they shan't do it—every bit of it. I'll break 'em in my way, and they'll think it's new rules. By George! they'll find plenty of new rules. Ha! ha! ha! I suppose I'd better be opening that desk."
Feeling in his pocket, he drew forth the bunch of keys which he had taken by force from his cousin. One by one he fitted each to the lock, but none of them seemed to work.
"Confound the thing!" he muttered. "My patience won't last much longer. Then I'll stave it in with my heel.
"Hello, there!" he cried, as, hearing a slight noise behind him, he wheeled around and found an elderly man, with a pen behind his ear, and a sheet of paper in his hand, standing there.
"Why the deuce didn't you knock?" he cried, angrily and flushing hotly, for he realized this man must have witnessed his vain attempts to open the desk. "What do you want?" he asked sharply and ill-humoredly.
Mr. Conway, the old cashier—for it was he—was looking at him with dilated, amazed eyes; but in a moment he recovered himself.
"You said to come into your office quite as soon as you came this morning, as you wished to see me on particular business, Mr. Armstrong," he replied in the low voice habitual with him.
For an instant the bogus Lester Armstrong's brows were knit closely together; then he said, coolly, sharply: "I've changed my mind; I don't want to see you."
Still the man lingered.
"Pardon me," he said. "I thought probably it might be in regard to those notes of Jordan & Beckwith which you were considering negotiating for."
"Well, you'll have to think again," exclaimed the other, tartly.
Mr. Conway turned toward the door, but as he stretched out his hand to grasp the knob his employer sang out, sharply:
"Hold on, there! Come here and see if you can do anything with this confounded desk. It's got the jim-jams or something. I've been monkeying with it for the last half hour, and can do nothing with it." And as he uttered the words, he held out the bunch of keys toward him.
If Mr. Conway had been startled before, he was certainly alarmed now, and he looked at his companion in amazement which could not be concealed.
"Well," cried the other, his temper rising, the result of the brandy diffusing itself through his brain, "what are you staring at me like that for? Why don't you take the keys and go ahead?"
Quite as soon as speech would come to him the old cashier said, slowly:
"You seem to forget, Mr. Armstrong, that the keys have been done away with some time, and the desk now opens with a secret spring which you yourself devised."
"Well, come here and open it. My fingers are all thumbs to-day," replied his companion, looking at him doggedly.
Mr. Conway stepped forward and touched what appeared to be one of the brass nails that studded the outer rim, and, as if by magic, the desk flew open, the other watching keenly to see how he did it.
Without further comment Mr. Conway turned away and with slow, heavy tread left the private office and walked toward his desk. When he reached it his emotions overcame him completely, and he laid his head down upon his ledger, tears falling like rain down his face.
In an instant half a dozen of his fellow bookkeepers were about him, frightened beyond words at this unusual scene and inquiring what could be the matter.
For a moment the old cashier hesitated, then he resolved to break the truth to them; they would soon find it out for themselves; he would tell them, and at the same time instruct them as best he could in this unfortunate affair. He raised his white head, the head that had grown gray in the employ of the firm he had loved so well and served so faithfully.
"You must know the truth, my fellows," he answered, slowly, huskily, and with apparent difficulty. "Our Mr. Armstrong has, for the first time since we have all known him, gone wrong; he is under the influence of strong drink, and by no means himself. I may add that I earnestly pray that each of you be loyal to him, even through this misfortune, and not let even a hint of it go forth to the outside world, for at this crisis it would ruin the well-known firm of Marsh & Co., which is now vested in him."
The horror and amazement on the faces of the men can better be imagined than described. All had loved and revered Lester Armstrong, and to hear that he had suddenly gone wrong because he had become possessed of a fortune was alarming and distressing news to them.
"Drink changes him so completely in temperament that it is hard to realize that he is the same courteous companion of those other days. He was so far gone from the effects of liquor I am not even sure that he recognized me. Hark! what is that?"
Several of the detectives of the place were rushing through the main office toward the private office, in answer to Mr. Armstrong's summons. The call for them had been so furious that they rushed in pell-mell, without waiting to take time to rap.
The bogus Mr. Lester Armstrong still sat in the luxurious leather armchair, his heels on the desk, fairly hidden in heavy clouds of blue smoke from his Havana cigar, at which he was puffing vigorously, fairly going into convulsions of laughter over a letter bearing a blue and gold monogram, which he was reading.
The unceremonious entrance of the four men caused him to spring suddenly to his feet.
"What the d—-l do you fellows want?" he exclaimed angrily. "How dare you intrude upon me, in my private office, in this unheard-of fashion, like a herd of escaped lunatics?"
"You rang for us," replied one of the men.
"I did not," replied the bogus Mr. Armstrong, resuming his seat pompously.
"The bells certainly rang, sir!" exclaimed the other three, simultaneously.
"Didn't I tell you that I didn't ring?" he answered, stamping his feet furiously.
In less time than it takes to tell it three more men dashed into the private office, exclaiming:
"We are here, sir, at the very first tap of your bell."
"You have all gone suddenly stark mad, or you are a set of the blamedest fools in existence, as I have just told these men. I did not ring. What on earth do you mean, by insisting that I did, I should like to know?"
"I beg your pardon, but you are still ringing, sir," declared one of the men. "We can distinctly hear the bell ringing furiously. Do you not see that your foot is still on it?"
"My foot!" exclaimed the bogus Mr. Armstrong, angrily. "Explain what you mean at once."
For answer, the man stepped forward, and pulled aside the mat under his employer's feet, mentally wondering if Mr. Lester Armstrong had not grown suddenly daft himself, thereby disclosing a set of electric buttons which the rug had cunningly concealed.
"You kept your foot on them and they rang, calling us here instantly," returned the man.
"Bless me! I forgot entirely about those confounded electric buttons," declared the bogus Armstrong, turning very red. "I'll have 'em put somewhere else to-morrow; great nuisance; always in the way." And after an instant a bright thought occurred to him, and he said blandly: "Well, to tell you the truth, men, I was only trying you to see how quickly you would respond; you may all go now."
The men quitted the private office, looking rather dumfounded into each other's blank faces, and in less than half an hour afterward every employee in the vast dry goods establishment heard the shocking news, that Mr. Lester Armstrong, whom they all believed well-nigh perfect, was terribly intoxicated up in his private office, but they were to be still more astounded ere the eventful day closed.