Bob Hardy made his way out of the office almost in a daze. He had been in the service of the store ever since it was opened, but such instructions as these meant a brand-new departure.
"I wonder what the deuce has got into him, anyway," he muttered. "He talks like a man that's got struck with religion!"
As he walked slowly down the stairs to the first floor of the building he met a brother detective, who stared at him curiously.
"What's the matter, Hardy? Look's if you'd had a shock! Been havin' a set-to with old Forbes, I'll bet a dollar!"
"You're wrong," was Hardy's answer. "It was the old man this time. There's something wrong with the boss. I think he's getting religion!"
"Get out! You don't mean it!" said the other fellow, contemptuously.
"Don't I?" said Hardy. "Well, you just listen to this!"
He repeated the conversation that had just taken place in the superintendent's office.
"Whew! That does sound like it!" said his companion, whose name was Ben Tyler. "He's off his trolley completely, especially about the money!"
"Well, that makes two trow-downs I've got this week," said Hardy, sourly, "but I got the fifty from that masher that I was telling you about! You remember, the swell that calls himself Captain Deering?"