"Then he is not suspended."
"Yes, he is," said Armstrong. "And on my way down here I looked in at his department and told them he was ill and wouldn't be back to-day."
Westervelt started up. "How dare you!" he shrilled in the undignified fury of the old.
"Bill, Bill!" warned Fosdick. Then to Armstrong, "The way to settle it is for Bill to go home for to-day. In the morning, he will return to his work as usual."
"Brownell will be here, will be in charge," said Armstrong. "If Westervelt returns, I'll have him put out."
"Will you permit me to ask the why of all this?" inquired Fosdick.
"The man's been up to some queer business," replied Armstrong. "The books have got to be straightened out, and it looks as if he'd have to disgorge some pretty big sums."
Westervelt groaned and fell heavily back into his chair. "That I should live to hear such insults to me!" he cried, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Armstrong simply looked at him.
"You are mistaken, terribly mistaken, Horace," said Fosdick smoothly. "You have been woefully misled." He did not know what to do. He dared not break with Westervelt, the chief stay of his power over the staff of the O.A.D.; yet neither did he dare, just then and over just that matter, break with Armstrong.
"If Westervelt is innocent," replied Armstrong, "he ought to be laughing at me—for, if he's innocent, I have ruined myself."