"I dunno why Mister Paul was down," Mike explained. "All he wanted was two o' thim Sunday papers with pictures in thim. What did he want two o' thim for I dunno. There's reading enough in one o' thim to last me a month of Sundays."
It may be surmised that Mike would have been still more in the dark as to Paul Whittier's reasons for coming down-town so early that Monday morning if he could have seen the young man throw the copies of the Gotham Gazette into the first ash-cart he passed after he was out of range of the porter's vision.
Paul was not the only member of Whittier, Wheatcroft & Co. to arrive at the office early that morning. Mr. Wheatcroft was usually punctual, taking his seat at his desk just as the clock struck half-past nine. On this Monday morning he entered the store a little before nine.
As he walked back to the office he looked over at the desks of the clerks as though he was seeking some one.
At the door of the office he met Bob.
"Hasn't the Major come down yet?" he asked, shortly.
"No, sir," the boy answered. "He don't never get here till nine."
"H'm," grunted the junior partner. "When he does come, tell him I want to see him at once—at once, do you understand?"
"I ain't deaf and dumb and blind," Bob responded. "I'll steer him into you as soon as ever he shows up."
But, for a wonder, the old book-keeper was late that morning. Ordinarily he was a model of exactitude. Yet the clock struck nine, and half-past, and ten before he appeared in the store.