“It is a—a—great responsibility, sir,” the young man explained.
“Nonsense, Daring. I trust you, fully. As fully as I do Eric or Mr. Boothe.”
“Can’t I make up the work on the books some other way—during the noon hour?”
“You’re silly, Phil,” declared Eric, sharply. “Better come down here quietly after supper and do the work in an easy and proper way. It isn’t likely to last but a night or two.”
“I think Mr. Boothe will be able to resume his duties by Monday morning,” added Mr. Spaythe; and then, as if the matter was settled, he walked into his room.
Phil resumed his work with an uneasy sense of impending misfortune. After banking hours Eric made up the teller’s account of receipts and disbursements and gave Phil a copy that he might enter the items on the books in detail. Then he counted the cash and put it away in the safe, explaining to his unwilling colleague the way to work the combination. After this Eric departed, leaving Phil alone in the bank, where he worked steadily until time for supper.
When he went home he confided to Phœbe this new complication that had arisen.
“I’m almost certain that Eric has some desperate scheme in his head,” said he. “He needs money badly to pay his gambling debts, and I’m afraid he will try to get it in such a way as to implicate me and divert suspicion from himself.”
“Why do you imagine that?” inquired his twin.
“Because he was so anxious that I should know the combination and have a key to the bank. What ought I to do, dear?”