These thoughts passed through Herbert’s mind as he went about his daily work.  Meanwhile, a painful experience awaited him, for which he was not in the least prepared.

About one o’clock a gentleman entered the counting-room hastily, and said, “Mr. Godfrey, I wonder whether I happened to leave my pocketbook anywhere about your office when I was here an hour ago?”

“I don’t think so.  When did you miss it?”

“A few minutes since.  I went to a restaurant to get a lunch, and, on finishing it, felt for my pocketbook, and found it gone.”

“Was there much in it?”

“No sum of any consequence.  Between twenty and thirty dollars, I believe.  There were, however, some papers of value, which I shall be sorry to lose.”

“I hardly think you could have left it here.  However, I will inquire.  Mr. Pratt, have you seen anything of Mr. Walton’s pocketbook?”

“No, sir,” said the bookkeeper, promptly.

“Herbert, have you seen it?”

“No, sir,” said our hero.

“Thomas?”

Tom Stanton was assailed by a sudden and dangerous temptation.  His dislike to Herbert had been increased in various ways, and especially had been rendered more intense by the independent tone assumed by our hero in the conversation which had taken place between them that very morning.  Now, here was an opportunity of getting him into disgrace, and probably cause him to lose his situation.  True, he would have to tell a falsehood, but Tom had never been a scrupulous lover of truth, and would violate it for a less object without any particular compunction.

He hesitated when the question was asked him, and thus, as he expected, fixed Mr. Godfrey’s attention.

“Why don’t you answer, Thomas?” he said, in surprise.

“I don’t like to,” said Tom, artfully.

“Why not?” demanded his employer, suspiciously.

“Because I don’t want to get anybody into trouble.”

“Speak out what you mean.”

“If you insist upon it,” said Tom, with pretended reluctance, “I suppose I must obey you.”

“Of course, if any wrong has been done, it is your duty to expose it.”

“Then, sir,” said Tom.  “I saw Mason pick up a wallet from the floor, and put it in his pocket just after the gentleman went out.  He did it so quickly that no one probably observed it but myself.”

Herbert listened to this accusation as if stunned.  It was utterly beyond his conception how anyone could be guilty of such a deliberate falsehood as he had just listened to.  So he remained silent, and this operated against him.

“Herbert,” said Mr. Godfrey, mildly, for he was unwilling to believe our hero guilty of intentional dishonesty, “you should have mentioned having found the pocketbook.”

“So I would, sir,” said Herbert, having found his voice at last, “if I had found one.”

“Do you mean to say that you have not?” demanded Mr. Godfrey, with a searching look.