Up the ladder;

by Madeline Leslie

Presently the truckman came in to take the grain which had been left on the floor over night. He looked around a moment for the box, and then said to Harrison, who was the only one in sight, "Mr. Ransom told me to carry a box to Calender street. He said he'd leave it here, marked and directed; won't you tell him I didn't find it, and I'll take it next time."

"If he wants to send it then, I suppose he'll have it ready," replied the youth, gravely.

Scarcely ten minutes after the load of grain had left the store, Mr. Ransom made his appearance, and Harrison noticed his quick glance in the direction from which the box had been taken. He desired now to ward off any attention to himself; for he trembled with apprehension of some violence on the part of the guilty men. He bent over his writing, that his palid face might not attract notice, though his brain absolutely refused to do its usual work of posting accounts. Every moment he grew more excited. He felt oppressed for breath, and walked to the door for air.

Fortunately for him, Mr. Grant and his clerk were shut close in their office, concerting measures to insure themselves against exposure, if, as they feared, the secret partner should present himself or send an agent to investigate the state of the firm. How little they thought that a net had been woven around them which, in a few moments, would enclose them in its folds.

Just as Harrison reached the door, he saw Mr. Kilby and two policemen, standing in close counsel just at the corner of the street.

Advancing quickly toward them, he put the paper into their hands, turned back, and was, apparently, writing at his desk, when they entered.

Mr. Kilby presently appeared at the door, alone, and advancing toward the office, inquired, in a loud, cheerful voice, of the young clerk, "Good morning! is Mr. Grant in?"

"He is, sir!" replied Harrison, in an almost inarticulate voice, and then proceeded to call the gentleman from his office. But that familiar voice had penetrated the closed door; and, hastily casting a glance around to the safe to see that all was in order, Mr. Grant, with a certain wildness of the eye, but a braggadocio air, walked forward to meet his partner.

I do not intend to describe the scene which followed. The officers entered, and served a writ upon Mr. Grant and his clerk; and, as it was a criminal prosecution, for fraud, on behalf of the government, no bail was allowed, and the villains were carried to prison to await their trial. Upon examination, all the bags of grain in the fourth story were marked with the letter R, so that in case an agent should appear, it would seem that this room had been hired for storage by Mr. Ransom; otherwise it would have been difficult to account for such a large stock in trade; while the false books were intended to show the unparelled dullness of the times. The real books were readily found, and showed that an immense and profitable business had been carried on. Before night the clerks were paid and dismissed, and the business of the great house of Grant & Co. was brought to a summary close.