"I don't understand you, Grant. What mystery do you mean?"
"You know very well, sir."
The lame youth's voice was sharp and cutting. Nervously wiping his face, Mr. Round glanced down at the floor, then cast a furtive glance at his companions. If ever guilt rested in a man's actions, it did then with those of the ex-bookkeeper. He probably recognized the futility of his chances, as he started to leave without further words. He was not to escape so easily, however.
"You have not heard my answer to your proposition," called out Grant, with sarcasm. "I'll tell you now that we would not have you in this office if you paid us a bonus of a thousand pounds. You had better return to your confederates, Black & Company, and inform them that their effort to place a spy in this office has failed."
"You will regret these words," retorted Round, with a muttered oath. "I'll show you that you are not so smart as you think."
"Have a care, sir," replied the lame youth. "Perhaps we will be able to prove your connection with that debt swindle, and send you up for it."
"Bah! You are a fool to——"
He did not finish the sentence. At that juncture, Nattie, who had been quietly edging his way across the office, bounded forward. There was a brief struggle, a crash at the door, and suddenly the visitor found himself in the street, considerably the worse for the encounter.
"That's the proper way to get rid of such callers," remarked the lad, cheerfully. "Talk is all right in its place, but actions are necessary at times. What a scoundrel he is!"