“You let it out,” said Bellair. “It is very simple. Call it in again——”
“It isn’t so simple.”
“I might come back to work for you,” Bellair added, “and those who knew would say, ‘He hadn’t anything. Instead of locking him up, Lot & Company took him back to work out what he had taken——’”
“I might give you a personal letter, saying I was very sorry, that in the bewilderment of the moment, we jumped at the conclusion that you were identified with the missing funds——”
“But the funds were not missing. You could not look into the vault-box without finding my letter.”
“Our funds were not all in that box, Bellair.”
“They would know by next morning, if I had broken into your bank——”
Mr. Nathan appeared to be gone from them, his eyes softened with visions.
“Write him the letter, Mr. Rawter——” suggested Mr. Jabez.
It struck Bellair like a hated odour—this tool for unclean work, Rawter’s part in the establishment. He did not hasten now, though he knew they were waiting for his answer. The head of the sales resumed: