The guardians of the treasure-house bowed, led me to the vaults and at my demand unlocked the box.
At the top of the miscellaneous papers that the box contained were two book-like packages, both marked with the inspiring figures "$500,000." I tore off the wrapping of the larger package. It was filled with gold notes of large denominations, and the slip that bound them was indorsed "For the Syndicate." The other package proved to be filled with United States bonds. It was all clear now. Wharton Kendrick had deposited his contribution to the syndicate's fund in this box instead of in the special account in the Golconda Bank, and had provided here his reserve of securities with which to meet the outstanding notes.
Laura Kendrick exclaimed with delight at the sight of this wealth.
"Is it all there?" she cried.
"Yes. Here is the full million he has been talking about, and there seem to be more securities in the box. You have saved the day for us. We should have gone to wreck without you," I replied.
"Well, I've been fuming and fretting all these days because I was so useless, but now if you'll take me to the carriage I'll go home with my self-respect quite restored."
"It was you that made the battle worth while," I murmured.
My return to the office brought an outburst of joy. At my announcement of the result, Brown jumped up with an enthusiastic whoop, and lumbered about the room with awkward capers. Then he checked himself suddenly, and very shamefacedly begged my pardon.
"I haven't done that since I was a boy, sir," he said. And I believed him.
With the business once more on a solid basis, I walked over to Partridge's office to relieve his anxiety on the subject of Wharton Kendrick's solvency. He had gone to the Exchange, and I followed him thither.