He walked steadily over to the door, pushed it open and entered the small compartment of the head official of the bank, under the president.
"Please close the door again, Richard," said Mr. Goodwyn, solemnly.
Why, it sounded like a funeral, and the cashier looked as though he might be taken for the chief mourner; as for Mr. Graylock, he sat there apparently wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, and drumming with his fingers on the table.
Dick gulped something down that seemed to be inclined to half strangle him, and then set his teeth together, resolved to put a brave face on it, no matter what difficulty might arise.
"Sit down here, Richard, where I can talk with you," continued Mr. Goodwyn.
The boy did as he was told, and looked calmly into the face of the cashier; if the other had anticipated discovering anything shifty in his manner he certainly received as great a surprise as at any time in his life.
"Richard, do you remember the day Mr. Graylock was in here, and I called you to ask about that Classon matter, which you explained quite satisfactorily—let me see, what day was it?" he said, turning to the eager merchant, who was devouring Dick with his eyes, and looking actually savage.
"Thursday of last week. I made a note of it naturally in my memorandum book, for I might wish to substantiate the occasion when I called for the securities again," replied the merchant, grimly.
Then it was about that packet after all; Dick had suspected something of the kind ever since he knew that Mr. Graylock seemed to be aroused over something, and had mentioned the word while standing in the doorway.
"Yes, sir, I remember," he replied, calmly, even while his heart was fluttering with an unknown dread.