“Pardon me,” he said.  “I thought probably it might be in regard to those notes of Jordan & Beckwith which you were considering negotiating for.”

“Well, you’ll have to think again,” exclaimed the other, tartly.

Mr. Conway turned toward the door, but as he stretched out his hand to grasp the knob his employer sang out, sharply: 

“Hold on, there!  Come here and see if you can do anything with this confounded desk.  It’s got the jim-jams or something.  I’ve been monkeying with it for the last half hour, and can do nothing with it.”  And as he uttered the words, he held out the bunch of keys toward him.

If Mr. Conway had been startled before, he was certainly alarmed now, and he looked at his companion in amazement which could not be concealed.

“Well,” cried the other, his temper rising, the result of the brandy diffusing itself through his brain, “what are you staring at me like that for?  Why don’t you take the keys and go ahead?”

Quite as soon as speech would come to him the old cashier said, slowly: 

“You seem to forget, Mr. Armstrong, that the keys have been done away with some time, and the desk now opens with a secret spring which you yourself devised.”

“Well, come here and open it.  My fingers are all thumbs to-day,” replied his companion, looking at him doggedly.

Mr. Conway stepped forward and touched what appeared to be one of the brass nails that studded the outer rim, and, as if by magic, the desk flew open, the other watching keenly to see how he did it.

Without further comment Mr. Conway turned away and with slow, heavy tread left the private office and walked toward his desk.  When he reached it his emotions overcame him completely, and he laid his head down upon his ledger, tears falling like rain down his face.

In an instant half a dozen of his fellow bookkeepers were about him, frightened beyond words at this unusual scene and inquiring what could be the matter.

For a moment the old cashier hesitated, then he resolved to break the truth to them; they would soon find it out for themselves; he would tell them, and at the same time instruct them as best he could in this unfortunate affair.  He raised his white head, the head that had grown gray in the employ of the firm he had loved so well and served so faithfully.

“You must know the truth, my fellows,” he answered, slowly, huskily, and with apparent difficulty.  “Our Mr. Armstrong has, for the first time since we have all known him, gone wrong; he is under the influence of strong drink, and by no means himself.  I may add that I earnestly pray that each of you be loyal to him, even through this misfortune, and not let even a hint of it go forth to the outside world, for at this crisis it would ruin the well-known firm of Marsh & Co., which is now vested in him.”

The horror and amazement on the faces of the men can better be imagined than described.  All had loved and revered Lester Armstrong, and to hear that he had suddenly gone wrong because he had become possessed of a fortune was alarming and distressing news to them.