"_I've business with him_"
Next day there appeared at the offices of Thomas Stoughton, in Nassau
Street, a trim, well-looking man, who had urgent business with Mr.
Fellows, the manager. He was kept waiting for some time before being
introduced into that gentleman's private room; but this did not seem to
disturb him. There was plenty to look at, or so he seemed to think, and
his keen, noncommittal eyes flashed hither and thither and from face to
face with restless activity. He seemed particularly interested in the
bookkeeper of the establishment, but it was an interest which did not
last long, and when a neat, pleasant-faced young woman rose from her
seat and passed rapidly across the room, it was upon her his eyes
settled and remained fixed, with a growing attention, until a certain
door closed upon her with a sound like a snapping lock. Then he
transferred his attention to the door, and was still gazing at it when a
boy summoned him to the manager's office.
He went in with reluctance. He had rather have watched that door. But he
had questions to ask, and so made a virtue of necessity. Mr. Fellows was
not pleased to see him. He started quite guiltily from his seat and only
sat again on compulsion--the compulsion of his visitor's steady and
quelling eye.
"I've business with you, Mr. Fellows." Then, the boy being gone, "Which
is the room? The one opening out of the general office directly opposite
this?"
[Illustration: "_He transferred his attention to the door_"]
Mr. Fellows nodded.
"I have just seen one of the employees go in there. I should like to see
that person come out. Do you mind talking with this door open? I know
enough about banking to hold up my end of the conversation."
Fellows rose with a jerk and pushed the door back. His visitor smiled
easily and launched into a discussion about stocks and bonds
interspersed with a few assertions and questions not meant for the
general ear, as:
"_It's the girl who is in there. Not ordinary, by any means. Just the
sort an old smudge like Stoughton would be apt to trust. Now what's
that?_"
"_Singing. She often sings. I've forbidden it, but she forgets, she
says_," answered Fellows.
"_Pretty good music. Listen to that note. High as a prima donna's. Does
she sing at her work?_"
"_No; I'd fire her if she did. It's only when she's walking about or
when_----"
"_She's in that room?_"
"_Yes_."
"At par? I buy nothing at par. _There! She's coming. I wish I dared
intercept her, rifle her pockets. Do you know if she has pockets?_"
"_No; how should I?_"
"_Fellows, you're not worth your salt. Ah! there's a face for you, and I
can read it like a book. Did a letter or cablegram come to-day?_"
"_Yes; didn't you see it? Hung up in the outer office_."
"_I thought I saw something_. Ninety-five? That's a quotation worth
listening to. Three at ninety-five. _That girl's a trump. I will see
more of my lady._" Here he took care to shut the door. "I've been the
rounds, Fellows. Private-detective work and all that. She is the only
puzzler among the group. You'll hear from me again; meanwhile treat the
girl well. Don't spring any traps; leave that to me."
And Fellows, panting with excitement, promised, muttering under his
breath:
"A woman! That's even worse than I thought. But we'll make the old
fellow pay for it. Those securities are ours. I already feel them in my
hand."
The sinister twitch which marred the other's mouth emphasized the
assertion in a way Grace Lee's friends would have trembled to see.