“The same! He asked to have you watched, then changed it and insisted on having the books examined. Said your people are poor--forgive me, Landis, but I have to tell you the whole story.”
“Don’t mind that. That’s a mere scratch after what I got this morning.”
“Well, he said your father had a mortgage on his farm up to the time you came to work in the bank, then suddenly it was paid and soon after the house was painted, a new bathroom installed, electric lights put into the house and steam heat, a Victrola and an automobile bought. In fact, your people launched out as though they had found a gold mine, and that in spite of the fact that your crop of tobacco was ruined by hail and the other income from the farm products barely enough to keep things going until another harvest. He naturally thought you must have a hand in supplying the money and with your moderate salary you couldn’t do half of that. He talked with several of the bank directors and an investigation was ordered. You’ll admit his story sounded plausible. It looked pretty black for you.”
“To you, yes! But not to him! Mr. Mertzheimer knows well enough where that money came from. My father had a legacy of ten thousand dollars this spring. You people could have found that out with very little trouble.”
“We’re a pack of asinine blunderers, Landis!” Mr. Buehlor looked foolish. Then he sighed relievedly. “That clears matters for you. I’m glad. I couldn’t conceive of you as anything but honest, Landis. But tell me about that legacy--a pretty nice sum.”
“It’s a romantic little story. An old sweetheart of my father, one who must have carried under her prickly exterior a bit of tender romance and who liked to do things other people never dreamed of doing, left him ten thousand dollars. She was a queer old body. Had no direct heirs, so she left Father ten thousand dollars for a little remembrance! It was that honest money that paid for the conveniences in our house, the second-hand car Father bought and the Victrola he gave Mother because we are all crazy for music and had nothing to create any melody except an old parlor organ that sounded wheezy after nine babies had played on it.”
“Landis, forgive me; we’re a set of fools!” The old man extended his hand and looked humbly into the face of Martin. The two gripped hands, each feeling emotion too great for words.
After a moment’s silence Mr. Buehlor spoke.
“This goes no farther. Your reputation is as safe as mine. If I have anything to say you’ll be eligible for the first vacancy in the line of advancement. As for that Mertzheimer, he can withdraw his account from our bank to-day for all we care. We can do business without him. But it puzzles me--what object did he have? If he knew of the legacy, and he certainly did, he must have known you were O.K. Is he an enemy of yours?”
“Not particularly. I never liked his son but we never had any real tilts.”