'Did you find that private ledger for me out of the old safe?' Stanway demanded.
'Yes,' said Ryley, 'and I put it in your safe, at the front, and gave you the key back this morning.'
'I don't see it there,' Stanway retorted.
'Shall I look?' Ryley suggested quietly, approaching the safe, of which the key was in the lock.
'Never mind, now! Never mind, now!' Stanway stopped him. 'I don't want to be bothered now. Later on in the afternoon, before Mr. Twemlow comes.... Did you write and ask him to call at four thirty?'
'Yes,' said Ryley, departing without a sign on his face, the model clerk.
'Fool!' whispered Stanway. It would have been impossible for Ryley to breathe without irritating his employer, and the fact that his plebeian cousin's son was probably the most reliable underling to be got in the Five Towns did not in the slightest degree lessen Stanway's dislike of him; it increased it.
Stanway had been perfectly aware that the little ledger was in his safe, and as soon as Ryley had shut the door he jumped up, unlatched the safe, removed the book, and after tearing it in two stuck first one half and then the other into the midst of the fire.
'That ends it, anyhow!' he thought, when the leaves were consumed.
Then he selected some books of cheque counterfoils, a number of prospectuses of companies, some share certificates (exasperating relic of what rich dreams!), and a lot of letters. All these he burnt with much neatness and care, putting more coal on the fire so as to hide every trace of their destruction. Then he opened a drawer in the desk, and took out a revolver which he unloaded and loaded again.