John had been in possession of this secret about five weeks when one morning he was summoned into the private office. He found Haviland looking rather disturbed.
“We'll have to be getting at our annual report,” the managing director said. “Let me see,—this is the eighth of the month; I suppose you already have it well along.”
“I've been at work on the books for the last two weeks.”
“Make a full and complete showing, Norton.”
“Yes, sir.”
At eleven o'clock Haviland left the office hurriedly in response to a telephone message.
Half an hour later a spruce-looking youth with a small paper parcel under his arm walked into the business office and inquired for him. John went over to the railing where he stood.
“Mr. Haviland's out; can I do anything for you?”
“I am from Brown and Kemper,” mentioning a well-known firm of brokers. “I want to leave these bonds for Mr. Haviland.” He untied the parcel as he spoke. “Will you take their numbers and give me a receipt?”
John was too dazed to speak. Not only was Haviland speculating, but he was speculating with the funds of the company. He was vainly endeavoring to collect his scattered wits when Haviland came in, panting and in hot haste. He gave the broker's clerk a shove that sent him spinning toward the wall, then with a single furious ejaculation he snatched up the bonds and disappeared into the private office.