s day and generation,--and the name had no terrors
to him.

"Boy, what is your name?" demanded Mr. Checkynshaw, when the door had
closed behind the cashier.

"Leopold Maggimore, sir," replied he.

"Leopold," repeated the banker.

"I am generally called Leo, sir."

"Did the barber--your father, if he is your father--send you to my
office to-day?"

"Yes, sir; he sent me, and I came; but you were not in."

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

"I was told you would not be back again to-day, sir."

"What time were you here?"

"At half past two, sir. There was some trouble in the entry at the
time. A gentleman had a young fellow by the collar, and was putting him
out of the building."

"Just so. Who was the gentleman?"

"I don't know, sir; I didn't see his face."

"I was that gentleman."

"I didn't know it, sir. It was just half past two, and I wanted to be
on time."

"Who told you I should not be back again?" demanded the banker more
sternly than he had before spoken.

"Mr. Hart," replied Leo, who regarded his informant as excellent
authority.

"Mr. Hart!" exclaimed Mr. Checkynshaw, staring into the bright eyes of
Leo to detect any appearance of deception.

The banker prided himself upon his shrewdness. He believed that, if
there was any person in the world who was peculiarly qualified to
expose the roguery of a suspected individual, he was that person. In
conducting the present examination he only wanted Derastus Clapp for
the terror of his name, rather than his professional skill as a
detective.

Mr. Checkynshaw believed that he had intrapped his victim. Mr. Hart
could not have told Leo that the head of the house would not return to
the office that day, for the very simple reason that Mr. Hart was dead
and gone. The old style of the firm was retained, but the Hart was gone
out of it. The boy was telling a wrong story, and the banker laid his
toils for unveiling the details of a gigantic conspiracy. Fitz lived
somewhere in the vicinity of High Street,--Mr. Checkynshaw did not know
where, for it would not be dignified for a great man like him to know
where his clerk resided,--and it was more than possible that Leo and he
were acquainted. Very likely the innocent-looking youth before him was
an accomplice of Fitz, who, since the disappearance of the papers, had
really become a terrible character.

"Yes, sir; Mr. Hart told me," repeated Leo, who could not see anything
so very strange in the circumstance.