st action?"

"No; yet facts are facts, and if it is proved that some one in our
employ has perpetrated a theft, the mind will unconsciously ask who, and
remain uneasy till it is satisfied."

"And if it never is?"

"It will always ask who, I suppose."

Mr. Sylvester drew back. "The matter shall be pushed," said he; "you
shall be satisfied. Surveillance over each man employed in this
institution ought sooner or later to elicit the truth. The police shall
take it in charge."

Mr. Stuyvesant looked uneasy. "I suppose it is only justice," murmured
he, "but it is a scandal I would have been glad to avoid."

"And I, but circumstances admit of no other course. The innocent must
not suffer for the guilty, even so far as an unfounded suspicion would
lead."

"No, no, of course not." And the director bustled about after his
overcoat and hat.

Mr. Sylvester watched him with growing sadness. "Mr. Stuyvesant," said
he, as the latter stood before him ready for the street, "we have always
been on terms of friendship, and nothing but the most pleasant relations
have ever existed between us. Will you pardon me if I ask you to give me
your hand in good-day?"

The director paused, looked a trifle astonished, but held out his hand
not only with cordiality but very evident affection.

"Good day," cried he, "good-day."

Mr. Sylvester pressed that hand, and then with a dignified bow, allowed
the director to depart. It was his last effort at composure. When the
door closed, his head sank on his hands, and life with all its hopes and
honors, love and happiness, seemed to die within him.

He was interrupted at length by Bertram. "Well, uncle?" asked the young
man with unrestrained emotion.

"The theft has been committed by some one in this bank; so the detective
gives out, and so we are called upon to believe. _Who_ the man is who
has caused us all this misery, neither he, nor you, nor I, nor any one,
is likely to very soon determine. Meantime--"

"Well?" cried Bertram anxiously, after a moment of suspense.

"Meantime, courage!" his uncle resumed with forced cheerfulness.

But as he was leaving the bank he came up to Bertram, and laying his
hand on his shoulder, quietly said:

"I want you to go immediately to my house upon leaving here. I may not
be back till midnight, and Miss Fairchild may need the comfort of your
presence. Will you do it, Bertram?"

"Uncle! I--"

"Hush! you will comfort me best by doing what I ask. May