“Why, Vance!” exclaimed Bessie in unfeigned surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Bessie, that his absence from the office at this time spells ruin in capital letters.”
“But he has put you in charge of everything,” said Bessie, whose confidence in Vance’s abilities was supreme.
“But I can’t do a thing without money. I should need a great deal of money.”
“He intended to sign a check for you,” she said, “but——”
“Exactly, but he was unable to do it.”
“Why couldn’t I go to his house,” she said suddenly. “He may have recovered his senses. Give me the check-book. If the thing is possible I will get his signature and bring it back to you.”
“Bessie, you’re an angel!” cried Vance, his face lighting up with a new hope. “What a chump I am not to have thought of that! The fact of the matter is, Mr. Jarboe’s view of the situation knocked me endwise. I ought to go myself instead of sending you, but I have lots to do here, and I guess you’ll do as well.”
So Bessie took the check-book and started for Michigan avenue, on the South Side.
While she was absent Vance brought all of his employer’s documents relating to corn matters from the safe to the inner office, and sat down to study them in connection with printed reports and other sources of information he found on Mr. Whitemore’s desk.