rs
and clerks flocking to the scene.

The old cashier turned upon them, holding up his hand to stay their
steps as they crowded over the threshold, Mr. Wright, the manager,
calling upon him anxiously to explain at once this unusual scene--this
disgraceful encounter between his employer, who seemed unable to speak
because of his injuries, and himself.

"It is due you all to know just what has happened," replied the old
cashier, in a high, clear voice, "but I say to you, by the God above me,
if this hound dares arise from his knees ere I have finished, I will
kill him before your very eyes. There is something he has to say before
you all while still on his knees. Let no man speak until I have had my
say, and then you--my companions of years, my fellow-workers, my friends
of a lifetime--shall judge of my action in this matter and deal with me
accordingly."

The scene was so extraordinary that no man among them seemed capable of
uttering so much as a syllable, so great was their consternation at
beholding their employer on his knees, groveling before the old cashier,
who stood over him like an aroused, avenging spirit.

In a voice high and clear the old cashier, whom they had known and
revered for years, told his story in a simple, straightforward way, yet
quivering with excitement, drawing his terror-stricken daughter Margery
into the shelter of his strong arms as he spoke.

"I am Margery's father--her only protector," he said, in conclusion.
"Is there a man among you with a father's heart beating in his bosom who
would not have done as I have done to the villain who dared to thus
insult his child. Ay, there are men among you who would not have
hesitated to have stricken him dead with a single blow--who would have
considered it a crime to have spared him."

By this time Kendale was recovering from the stunning blows which had
been dealt him--realized that help was at hand; the employees would be
in duty bound to protect him from the enraged man before him.

He realized, too, that the old cashier meant that he should remain there
on his knees and beg the girl's pardon before all these people.

Ere Mr. Conway could judge of his design the bogus Lester Armstrong had
bounded to his feet and into the midst of the crowd.

"You are discharged!" he cried, turning to the old cashier. "I will give
you just ten minutes to get out of this building--you and the girl, both
of you. It was a plan hatched up between you and her t