"John, how did Bob Hendricks ever straighten out that affair in the treasurer's office in connection with the first year's taxes of the old Wheat Company? What did he do with it finally?"
Barclay looked at the fire and then turned his searchlight eyes into Bemis's. There was not a quiver. The man sat there without a muscle of his parchment face moving. His eyes were squinted up, looking at the tip of his long cigar.
"Why?" asked Barclay.
"Well," responded Bemis, impassive as an ox, "it would help me in my business to know. Tell me."
He spoke the last two words as one in authority.
"Well," answered Barclay, "one day back in the seventies, I was appointed to check up the treasurer's book, and I found where he had fixed it on the county books—apparently between two administrations. I recognized his hand; and it made the balance for the first time."
Bemis smoked awhile. "What time in the seventies?" he asked.
There was a pause. "In January, 1879."
Bemis grinned a wicked, mean little grin and said: "That settles it. I believe I am safe in buying the waterworks."
"What are you going to do to Bob?" Barclay asked.