“It was the merest chance,” said the clerk. “My work kept me late. As I was leaving, I happened to glance at the thermometer dial here. It registered below freezing. I couldn’t understand that, for there is no ice in the refrigerator, so I opened the door to see.”
“I broke the coil,” explained Orme, “in the hope that the night watchman might be interested in the dial.”
“Well,” said the clerk, drawing a long breath, “you had a close shave. There isn’t any night watchman—at least not in this office. If I had balanced my books on time to-day, you two would have stayed where you were until to-morrow morning.”
“I will come in to-morrow to see Mr. Wallingham and explain everything. I will pay for a new thermometer, too, if he will let me.”
“I don’t think he will let you do that,” said the clerk. “He will be grateful that nothing worse happened.”
“Yes, I believe he will,” replied Orme.
He glanced at the clock. It was a quarter after seven. Going back into the chamber which, had been the scene of both their danger and their happiness, he got his coat and the girl’s hat. The parchment papers crackled in his pocket as he put the coat on. The girl, meantime, adjusted her hat.
“Say,” said the clerk, holding the outer door open for them to pass through, “was that fellow’s story about your holding notes of ours—was there anything in it?”
“Absolutely untrue,” replied Orme.
“He must have had you confused with somebody else.”