"When are they going to ring off?" he asked Nelson.
"I'm going now," said Evan; "my head is splitting."
Penton heard.
"Why didn't you say so before, old man," he said, softly; "we don't want our teller to go out of business."
Henty winked at Evan from behind the manager's back, and when Penton had eagerly answered a summons from the inspector, whispered:
"What's his game, I wonder?"
"If you stick around, A. P., you may find out."
"By Jove," said Henty, "I will stick—till the cock crows!"
Nelson climbed the hill to his lodging. He lay in bed an hour before sleep came, and then dreams bothered him. They were nightmares; a confusion of figures, money and old associations. He dreamt that he was an inspector and that Penton had taken him out for a drink, talking, the while, about swollen deposits, curtailed loans and expanding prospects. There was an unknown and unfortunate clerk mixed up in this dream; a queer, vague fellow.
Next morning A. P. left his lodging for work much earlier than usual. He called on the teller, whom, for some reason, he desired to escort to the office. Evan was eating breakfast.