“Will you not tell me your name?” he sympathetically inquired.
“My name?” With indescribable bitterness he spoke the words. “Why should I not give it you? All New York will be ringing with it in a few days when it will be known that the assistant bookkeeper of the firm of Hunter & Co. has proven false to his trust. My name is Milton Nesbit!”
As if electrified Owen turned upon the man before him.
“Repeat the name of the firm by which you were employed!”
“Hunter & Co.”
With a gasping sound Owen sank back, pale to the very lips. Surprised, Milton Nesbit turned inquiringly to him.
“Why, what is wrong; are you ill?
Owen shook his head.
“No! no! It is not that, but——Well, why should I search for empty words? My name is Owen Hunter!”
It was now Milton Nesbit’s turn to gasp with surprise. He had been holding his position some two years and in all that time had never seen the senior member of the firm. He had been told it had not always been thus; but for several years Owen Hunter no longer took an active part in the business, and most of the newcomers had never seen the man for whom they were coining and piling up money.