Then came the thought that if Mr. Spaythe was aware of his son’s embezzlement, someone had betrayed Eric to him. The traitor could be none other than Phil Daring, the one he had naturally expected would be accused of the crime.
Hardly knowing which way to turn or what to do or say, reading condemnation in every face and fearing exposure at any moment, Eric Spaythe was indeed in a pitiable plight. Why was his father inspecting the books so carefully? It could not be that he mistrusted Phil. Was he then looking for those former defalcations of which his son had been guilty? Eric had intended to accuse Phil of those things, when the logical time came. Perhaps Phil knew that, and had saved himself by denouncing Eric.
There was nothing to be learned from Daring’s face. It was grave and serene, as if he had the situation well in hand. Mr. Spaythe seemed stern and vigilant, his practised eye running up and down the entries, observing every item with intelligent care. Boothe was imperturbable as ever and paid no attention to the group in the back room.
Eric writhed on his stool and kept silent. He was fully prepared for the impending denunciation and intended to deny everything and stick to the lie to the last. But no denunciation came.
Mr. Spaythe finished his examination and then turned to Phil with a satisfied nod.
“Daring,” said he, “you have done well—very well indeed, considering your brief experience. I believe you are destined to prove of considerable future value to this bank, and hereafter your salary will be fifteen dollars a week.”
Without a word or a look toward his son he reëntered his office and closed the door. He was still angry with Eric for foolishly making that long and expensive trip to St. Louis for a day’s stay, and moreover he resented the unkind insinuations his son had made about young Daring’s honesty. But Eric attributed his father’s displeasure to entirely different causes.
Phil resumed his work, paying no attention to his companion. Eric waited for a while for him to speak, and then grew savage.
“Think you’ve caught me at it, I suppose?” he growled, with reckless disregard of the fact that he had betrayed himself. The restoration of the money was evidence enough that the cat was out of the bag.
“You are caught, Eric,” was the quiet answer. “There is no need for me to assure you of that.”