"The cashier has one and the head bookkeeper has another."
"You mean the bookkeeper who sits at the desk at the extreme right in the bookkeepers' department?"
"Yes," replied Dunlap, "that is Mr. Arbogast's desk. Do you know him?"
"No. What did you say the gentleman's name is?" The reporter looked up and prepared to make a note of it.
"John W. Arbogast."
"A man something over fifty years of age, quite bald, with a fringe of gray hair; wears a heavy moustache and side-whiskers; and had on yesterday afternoon, when you last saw him, a pepper-and-salt business suit," said Sturgis, writing down the name in his note book.
Dunlap stared at the reporter in amazement. Sturgis smiled slightly.
"I met the gentleman yesterday afternoon," he explained.
"Oh! that accounts for it," exclaimed the banker. "I see——but——but then, how comes it that you did not know his name?"
"He did not tell me his name," said Sturgis gravely, "and I did not know until just now that he was employed in the Knickerbocker bank. How long has he been with you?"