GATHERING CLOUDS
Another week passed. Dick had recovered his natural spirits, since it
was impossible for a boy of his buoyant disposition to hug worry to his
heart for any great length of time.
Mr. Goodwyn could find no fault in his conduct; he was intelligent,
quick, respectful and accurate; and yet the cashier kept tabs of his
movements as though constantly looking for a weak place in his armor.
Would he find it after a while; could the boy continue to be as perfect
right along as he seemed just now, and should the time come, was Mr.
Goodwyn mean enough to look upon an accidental mistake as a crime?
This was what made Dick anxious; anyone was apt to make a slip once in a
while--in the bookkeeping department it happened every month when they
were taking off their trial balance, and then hours had to be consumed,
and midnight gas burned until the error was found and rectified; but
what was an ordinary mistake with one person might be magnified into an
enormous blunder in another.
Accordingly, having this uneasy feeling in connection with Mr.
Graylock's vindictive animosity, Dick was put on his guard one day when
the cashier sent him with a note to the department store.
He had not been in it since that day when Pliny told him about the talk
between Archibald Graylock and the cashier.
As he entered the big building it seemed to him that there was a
difference in the air of things somehow; the clerks behind the counter
were actually taking things easier than he had ever known them to do,
and several were even conversing together--why, he actually heard a low
laugh as he passed along, something that had hitherto been unknown in
the Graylock store.
Apparently the proprietor must have been relaxing his eternal vigilance
for some reason or other.
Dick began to take notice, and somehow a thought flashed into his brain
that he would not have communicated to anyone else for a king's ransom,
lest he be accused of betraying the secrets that were connected with his
trusted position in the bank.
He remembered now that Mr. Graylock had been in consultation with the
bank officials daily of late, and there seemed to be a look on his face
that was more than the keen, shrewd business expression people were
accustomed to seeing there.
Could it be that he was having troubles financially?
Dick knew that there were some heavy notes out against the man whose
genius as an organizer had built up that big department store, so long a
credit to the good name of Riverview.
Yes, and he had been in to see Mr. Gibbs twice personally, which was a
rather unusual proceeding, since the cashier was the one with whom all
ordinary affairs were transacted.
And now that he thought of it, might there be a reason in his setting
Ferd to work to earn his own living.
He discovered the object of his last thought behind a counter, looking
disconsolate, though when Ferd saw him he tried to brace up and assume
his former patronizing air, beckoning Dick to approach.
Actually he offered to shake hands, which was a sure indication that
Ferd had suffered a fall in his pride.
"How d'ye do, Dick? Getting along all right in the bank? I had an idea
I'd like to take up the financial end of the game, but when I discovered
what slaves all bank clerks are nowadays, I changed my mind. It's a heap
better to work into the ropes here, and learn how the governor manages
things; because you understand, before a great while I expect to see my
name on the sign with his. Archibald Graylock & Son, won't look half
bad, eh? After that I can take it easier, you see. And when the whole
business comes my way, after the old man cashes in his checks, why I
expect to travel and enjoy life. I'm thinking of investing in a car the
very day I get to be a partner here; yes, and I've been having stacks of
catalogues sent me of the different makes. Don't suppose you feel any
interest in such things; perhaps you may ten or twenty years from now,
when you get to be cashier."
It amused Dick to hear Ferd boast, and never changed his own ideas a
particle.
Just now he wondered deep down in his heart what effect it would have on
the fellow if his father did make a grand smash, and it actually became
a necessity for Ferd to get out and hustle for his daily bread--it might
prove the making of him in the end.
"Oh! I sometimes dream of having such a thing, some fine day; but just
as you say, I rather guess that time is a long way off. It doesn't
bother me a particle. I'm satisfied to get along day by day, and leave
the future to itself. But I must be on my way, Ferd. Glad you like your
berth. Be sure and invite me to a ride in that car when you conclude to
get it."
Mr. Graylock was pacing up and down in that little room of his, with a
plainly perturbed face; he started as Dick entered, and looked relieved
to see him, just as if he had been entertaining a fear of having some
impatient debtor call upon him to demand an immediate settlement of his
claim under penalty of closing up his business.
And the lookout hole was closed, which accounted for the unusual
commotion in the store among the employees; plainly Mr. Graylock, in
anticipation of disagreeable interviews, had chosen to cut off his means
of communication with the outer offices.
He tore open the envelope Dick carried from the cashier and hastily
scanned the contents.
There was a strained look on his seamed face, and a glitter in his eyes
that Dick could not but think boded ill toward some one, and he rejoiced
that fortune had not thrown his daily lot under the finger of this petty
tyrant.
"Tell Mr. Goodwyn that I will be right over, and bring the securities
with me," he said, in a voice that seemed to tremble a little with
eagerness or some emotion.
"Yes, sir. Anything else?" asked the boy, respectfully.
Mr. Graylock looked at him long and earnestly; it seemed to Dick that
something cruel and sinister was creeping over his hard face, and
despite himself he shivered as though a piece of ice had suddenly been
applied to his flesh.
"That is all," said the merchant, finally, like a man making up his
mind.
Dick went out.
He could not understand his feelings, but it seemed as though he must
have had some connection with the thoughts passing through that shrewd
mind of Mr. Graylock while the other was standing there a full minute
and looking directly at him.
Why should that be?
How could so humble a personage as the bank messenger boy have anything
to do with the financial standing of a big merchant like Mr. Graylock?
Surely it was entirely out of the question that the former dislike which
this man had entertained toward him could have any place in his thoughts
now, if, as Dick imagined, he were wrestling with financial
difficulties.
He had one more errand to attend to before returning to the bank.
It was the noon hour, and he expected to eat lunch before business
picked up again.
In these country banks things are not run on the same rigid regulations
as in great city institutions.
Sometimes for half an hour business is virtually suspended and all the
employees may be found out at dinner save possibly a single exception,
which may be one of the tellers, or on occasion the cashier himself.
As a rule depositors, aware of these conditions, do not come to transact
any business between these hours, but if there should happen to be any
especial need of money being paid out or taken in, the lone occupant of
the desk attends to it.
Dick had noticed that several times Mr. Graylock seemed to have timed
his visits at just this particular hour.
It may have been accident, or he possibly wished to catch the cashier at
leisure, and as the building was empty for a short season, so far as
they knew, they could confer without a chance of being overheard.
On this particular day, which was fated to be marked with a white stone
in the history of Dick Morrison, Mr. Graylock entered the bank at the
time he was eating his lunch in the little room back of the offices.
From where he sat he could see the merchant as he came in the open door.
He noticed Mr. Graylock cast a quick look around as if to size up the
situation, and what would appear to be a pleased expression flashed over
his thin face when he saw that the coast seemed clear, and that the
cashier was the only one present, besides the boy eating in the back
room.
Passing immediately into the section reserved for the bank workers he
entered Mr. Goodwyn's den; the door being open so that the cashier could
command a full view of the outer offices, and jump up if any customer
should happen to apply at the windows for attention.
There followed the murmur of voices from within; but for once Mr.
Graylock saw fit to graduate his tones to a lower pitch, so that beyond
an occasional word Dick heard nothing that passed, nor did he wish to
listen.
Then someone entered through the front door, and he heard the cashier
get up to pass through into the main offices to wait on the customer.
What impelled Dick to step gently over to that knothole Pliny had spoken
of and take one quick glance he could never have explained, for surely
he had no particular desire to look upon the disturbed and crafty face
of Archibald Graylock.
The merchant was just sitting down in his chair again as though he had
stood up after the cashier's hurried departure from the little office,
and he seemed to be buttoning up his coat; Dick had one scant look at
his face as he turned away again to resume his lunch, and he could never
again forget the expression he saw there, it seemed to be so full of
fear, of nervous strain, of malicious triumph.