Eric glared.
“Where’s the proof?” he demanded, uneasily.
Phil looked up with a smile.
“Has it never occurred to you that money may be marked, and also a record kept of the numbers of bank notes?”
“Oh, that was it, was it?” returned the other, plainly discomfited by the suggestion, which had been hazarded merely to tease him. “Then you’ve been trying to trap me for a long time, it seems. Grateful return for my getting you the job here, isn’t it?”
“I haven’t trapped you at all, Eric. The fault is your own from beginning to end,” said Phil, seriously.
Eric walked to the window and stood looking out. He was trying to understand why his father had not frankly accused him of stealing the money. The banker’s reticence was vastly more terrifying to the boy than prompt exposure and denunciation would have been. Perhaps he had hesitated to let the world know that his only son was a thief. Yes; that must be the explanation. Therefore, Eric was destined to receive his scourging in the private office, and he experienced a distinct sense of relief at this thought, for he could stand any paternal tongue-lashing if his disgrace was but kept from the knowledge of his fellows. Eric’s disgrace would mean to an extent his father’s disgrace. Come to think of it, he had no great cause to worry, in any event. His protection lay in his father’s regard for his own good name.
Following this clue, Eric decided that Phil Daring’s raise of salary was merely a bribe not to expose the secret. But the culprit’s momentary satisfaction in this solution of the problem was promptly dampened when he remembered another of Mr. Spaythe’s characteristics—to let no fault go unpunished. He well knew his father’s stern nature, and shuddered a little as he wondered what punishment would be decreed for so grave an offense.
“What’s the program, Phil?” he inquired, coming back to the desk.