er. "The specifications are
forwarded to the works, and the engineers make their estimates of the
actual cost of labor and material. These estimates are sent to us here,
and we add whatever we think best for interest, and for expenses, for
wear and tear, and for profit."

"Who writes the letters making the offer--the one with actual figures I
mean?" the son continued.

"I do," the elder Whittier explained; "I have always done it."

"You don't dictate them to a typewriter?" Paul pursued.

"Certainly not," the father responded; "I write them with my own hand,
and, what's more, I take the press-copy myself, and there is a special
letter-book for such things. This letter-book is always kept in the
safe in this office; in fact, I can say that this particular
letter-book never leaves my hands except to go into that safe. And, as
you know, nobody has access to that safe except Wheatcroft and me."

"And the Major," corrected the junior partner.

"No," Mr. Whittier explained, "Van Zandt has no need to go there now."

"But he used to," Mr. Wheatcroft persisted.

"He did once," the senior partner returned; "but when we bought those
new safes outside there in the main office, there was no longer any
need for the chief book-keeper to go to this smaller safe; and so, last
month--it was while you were away, Wheatcroft--Van Zandt came in here
one afternoon, and said that, as he never had occasion to go to this
safe, he would rather not have the responsibility of knowing the
combination. I told him we had perfect confidence in him."

"I should think so!" broke in the explosive Wheatcroft. "The Major has
been with us for thirty years now. I'd suspect myself of petty larceny
as soon as him."

"As I said," continued the elder Whittier; "I told him that we trusted
him perfectly, of course. But he urged me, and to please him I changed
the combination of this safe that afternoon. You will remember,
Wheatcroft, that I gave you the new word the day you came back."

"Yes, I remember," said Mr. Wheatcroft. "But I don't see why the Major
did not want to know how to open that safe. Perhaps he is beginning to
feel his years now. He must be sixty, the Major; and I've been thinking
for some time that he looks worn."

"I noticed the change in him," Paul remarked, "the first day I came
into the office. He seemed ten years older than he was last winter."

"Perhaps his wound troubles him again," suggested Mr. Whittier.
"Whatever the reason,