"But the books—he must not get hold of the books," persisted Westervelt.
"I'll see to that. Can you suggest any way to keep him quiet, except pretending to give him his head at present?"
Westervelt reflected. Suddenly he cried out, "No, Josiah; I can't let him—anyone—handle those books. They're my reputation."
"But you have got them into good shape for the legislative investigation, haven't you?"
"Yes—certainly. But there are the private books!"
"Um," grunted Fosdick. "How many of them?"
"Three—beside the one I slipped into my pocket on my way down here. They're too big to take away."
"They must be destroyed," said Fosdick. "Go now and get them. Have them carried down here at once."
Westervelt hurried away. As he entered his office, he was astounded at seeing Armstrong seated at a side desk, dictating to a stenographer. At sight of Westervelt, Armstrong started up and went to meet him. "You ought not to be lingering here, Mr. Westervelt," he said, so that all the clerks could hear. "You owe it to yourself to take no such risk."
"I forgot a little matter," explained Westervelt confusedly. And he went uncertainly into his private office, had his secretary put the three ledgers and account books together and wrap them up. "Now," said he, "take the package down to Mr. Fosdick's office. I'll go with you."