“I don’t aim to run up the white flag yet. I’m in for the duration of the war.”
“That’s the spirit,” the old man approved. “I remember once when I thought I was licked. Your father pulled me out of that jam, and I’ve always been grateful.”
“Tell me about it, sir,” urged Flash.
“It’s not much of a story. I worked in the cashier’s office at the Post. From time to time we kept missing small amounts of money. The blame fell on me and I was about to be discharged.
“But your father didn’t agree with the other higher-ups that I was the guilty person. He took it upon himself to do a little investigating of his own.”
“With the result that you were cleared?” Flash questioned.
“Yes, it turned out that a new employee, a young fellow named Ronne, had been taking the money. He was real clever at it, but not smart enough to fool your father.”
“Did you say Ronne?” Flash asked in a startled voice.
“Yes, his name was Dick Ronne. He would be a middle-aged man by this time. Never did hear what became of him after he was discharged.”
The old man pressed a signal bell, and Flash arose to let him out of the seat.