“What can he want here at this time?” she asked herself.

She deliberated whether she should go to the door and speak to Stark, but decided not to do so.

“He will call at the door if he has anything to say,” she reflected.

Phil Stark walked on till he reached the factory.  He felt that he must see Julius Gibbon, and satisfy himself as to the meaning of the mysterious substitution of waste paper for bonds.

When he reached a point where he could see into the office, he caught the eye of Leonard, who was sitting at the window.  He beckoned for him to come out, and Leonard was glad to do so.

“Where are you going?” asked the bookkeeper, observing the boy’s movement.

“Mr. Stark is just across the street, and he beckoned for me.”

Julius Gibbon flushed painfully, and he trembled with nervous agitation, for he feared something had happened.

“Very well, go out, but don’t stay long.”

Leonard crossed the street and walked up to Stark, who awaited him, looking grim and stern.

“Your uncle is inside?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell him I wish to see him at once—­on business of importance.”

“He’s busy,” said Leonard. “’He doesn’t leave the office in business hours.”

“Tell him I must see him—­do you hear?  He’ll come fast enough.”

“I wonder what it’s all about,” thought Leonard, whose curiosity was naturally excited.

“Wait a minute!” said Stark, as he turned to go.  “Is Jennings in?”

“No, sir, he has gone over to the next town.”

“Probably the box has not been missed, then,” thought Stark.  “So much the better!  I can find out how matters stand, and then leave town.”

“Very well!” he said, aloud, “let your uncle understand that I must see him.”

Leonard carried in the message.  Gibbon made no objection, but took his hat and went out, leaving Leonard in charge of the office.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, hurriedly, as he reached Stark.  “Is—­is the box all right?”

“Look here, Gibbon,” said Stark, harshly, “have you been playing any of your infernal tricks upon me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” responded Gibbon, bewildered.

Stark eyed him sharply, but the bookkeeper was evidently sincere.

“Is there anything wrong?” continued the latter.

“Do you mean to tell me you didn’t know that wretched box was filled with waste paper?”

“You don’t mean it?” exclaimed Gibbon, in dismay.

“Yes, I do.  I didn’t open it till this morning, and in place of government bonds, I found only folded slips of newspaper.”

By this time Gibbon was suspicious.  Having no confidence in Stark, it occurred to him that it was a ruse to deprive him of his share of the bonds.

“I don’t believe you,” he said.  “You want to keep all the bonds for yourself, and cheat me out of my share.”