The bookkeepers were busy at their special duties, and scarcely gave him a glance over their ponderous4 ledgers5 as he came in at the front and walked to his desk in the rear. Hanging up his old slouch hat, and seating himself in his big revolving6 chair, his eyes fell on a stack of letters addressed to him. Rapidly shifting them through his stiff fingers, his attention was drawn7 to the only one which bore no stamp or postmark. He recognized the writing, and as he held it frowningly before him, his confidential8 clerk, Toby Lassiter, a colorless and bald young man of medium height, sparse9 mutton-chop whiskers, and soft, shrinking gray eyes, entered with a slip of paper.
“The cotton quotations10 you wanted, Mr. Walton,” he said, in the discreet11 tone he used to the banker on all occasions, lest he might by accident expose to other ears matters his cautious master wished to be kept private.
“Oh yes.” Then, as Lassiter was softly slipping away: “But hold on, Toby! Have you seen Fred this morning?”
“No, sir, he hasn’t been around yet. In fact, Mr. Walton, I wanted to ask you. Only three of us carry keys to the front door—you and me and Fred; and when I was opening up this morning I found that somebody had pushed one of them under the door.”
“Well, I’ve got mine,” old Simon said, with a slow, wondering stare. “Oh, wait! this note is from him; maybe he—” The banker, with fumbling12 fingers, tore open the envelope and began to read. The waiting clerk heard him utter a gasp13. It was followed by a low, subdued14 groan15, and looking like a corpse16 momentarily electrified17 into a semblance18 of life, the old man rose to his feet, the half-read confession19 clutched in his sinewy20 fingers.
“He’s gone!” he gasped21. “He’s taken five thousand dollars of the bank’s funds, and made off!”
“Oh, Mr. Walton, do, do be quiet!” Lassiter whispered, warningly, as he laid his hands on the arms of his employer, and gently urged him to sit down. The banker obeyed as an automaton22 might, his wrinkled face beneath his shaggy eyebrows23 wildly distorted, his lips parted, showing his yellow jagged teeth, his breath coming and going in spasmodic gasps24. Every hair on his head seemed to stand dry and harsh by itself as he ran his prong-like fingers upward through the bushy mass.
“Five thousand—five thousand—five thousand!” he groaned25; “the low, ungrateful thief; and at a time when he knew it would hamper26 us and maybe bring on a crash. Look y’ here, Toby, and be quick about it! Run and get the sheriff—if you can’t find him fetch the deputy! Then see if the telegraph office is open. I’ll jail that scamp before night! I want my money! I want my money! He’s no son of mine! I gave him fair warning, as you know, to let up in his damnable course, and he snapped his card-flipping fingers in my face. Hurry up! He can’t be far off; we’ll nab him before the day is over. Run!”
But the clerk lingered. “Mr. Walton,” he began, falteringly27, “I never have refused to obey your orders, but Fred ain’t quite as bad as—really, you oughtn’t to handle the boy that way. He’s been a good friend to me, and I’d hate to think I’d stand by and see you take a step like this, mad as you are, when if you’d only be calm a minute, surely you’d realize—”
“Am I the head of this bank or you?” old Walton broke in, as he rose and stood quivering and clinging with both hands to the back of his unsteady chair. “Go and do as I tell you, or, by the God over our heads, I’ll send you about your business!”.
“All right, Mr. Walton,” the clerk yielded, “I’ll do it!”
White as death could have made him, Lassiter passed out at a door on the side of the building and gained the street without being seen by the workers in the counting-room.
“Poor Fred!” he muttered. “He’s too good at heart to be treated this way, and he’s not a real thief, either. Folks have told him all his life that he had a right to more of the old man’s money than he was getting, and he didn’t think it was stealing.”
On a corner he saw Bill Johnston, the sheriff, a man about forty-five years of age, who wore great heavy top-boots, a broad-brimmed hat, and had sharp brown eyes and a waxed and twisted mustache. With considerable reluctance28, Toby went up to him.
“Mr. Walton wants to see you, Bill,” he said. “He’s in his office in the bank.”
“Well, I can’t come for ten minutes yet, anyway,” the sheriff said, not removing his steady gaze from a group of men round a mountain wagon29 in a vacant lot across the street, where, on a high hoarding30 of planks31, glaring new circus bills were posted. “The boys are about to smell out a keg of wild-cat whiskey in that gang of mossbacks. They may need me any minute. Tell the old man I’ll be along as soon as I can.”
Lassiter went back to the bank and gained his employer’s presence without attracting the attention of any of the clerks. He found the shaggy head prone32 on the desk, the long arms hanging down at either side. For a moment Toby thought the banker was a victim of heart-failure, and stood stricken with horror. But he was reassured33 by a low groan from the almost inert34 human mass.
“Good Lord,” he heard the banker praying, “scourge him! Don’t heed35 his cries and promises! He has lied to me, he’ll lie to you!” Therewith Simon raised his blearing eyes, now fixed36 and bloodshot in their sockets37.
“Well?” he growled38, impatiently.
“Johnston is coming right away,” Lassiter said, and he approached the old man and leaned over him. “Mr. Walton, once when you were very mad with the other bank, you remember, and was about to take action against them, I got your ear, and showed you that in a suit at court you’d have to make certain showings of a private nature that would injure our interests, and you admitted that I was right, and—and decided39 to let the matter blow over. You’ve said several times since then that I was right, and—”
“Well, what the devil has that got to do with this?” Walton thundered.
“I’ll tell you, Mr. Walton—now wait one minute, just one minute,” Lassiter urged: “you know how excitable depositors are. Don’t you see if the report goes out that you have actually turned Fred over to the law for a big defalcation40 that folks will get the impression that you are in a shaky condition? The other bank would make it appear ten times as bad as it is, and we might have a frightful41 run on us. We are all right, solid enough, the Lord knows, but money—ready money—is hard to get. There never has been a time when it would be as hard to stand under a run as right now. We are getting ahead of the other bank, and they are as mad as Tucker. They wouldn’t want anything better than a chance like this to—”
“You mean?—great God, Toby, you are right! It would ruin us—absolutely wreck42 us! I see it—I see it as plain as day!”
There was a sound of heavy steps in the corridor outside.
“It is the sheriff,” Toby whispered, “but I didn’t tell him what you wanted. Don’t act now, Mr. Walton; for God’s sake, don’t!”
“Tell him to wait a minute,” the banker panted. But it was too late; the sheriff, with his usual lack of ceremony, was already pushing the door open.
“Hello, old man!” Johnston said, and he came in with a swinging stride. “I hope you are not scared about what I owe you; I’ll get it up all right. Money is owing to me, and—”
“No, it wasn’t that—it wasn’t that.” Walton’s rigid43 face was forced into a smile that fairly distorted it and set the observant officer wondering. “The truth is, Johnston, I thought I needed your services, but I find I’m mistaken. That’s all, Johnston, I was mistaken. I’ve decided to let it pass—to let it pass, you know.”
“All right, old man,” the sheriff replied, as his puzzled glance swept the two disturbed faces before him. “I don’t care just so you don’t garnishee my salary for what I owe you.”
Outside, as he joined a group of idlers on the corner, he remarked, with a broad, knowing smile and a twinkle of the eye: “That old note-shaver in there thinks he can fool me. He sent Toby Lassiter out just now as white as a preacher’s Sunday shirt to ask me to see him. I found him looking like a staring idiot, and was informed that it was a false alarm. False nothing! I’ll give you boys a tip. I’ll bet that gay and festive44 Fred is up to some fresh devilment. You watch out and you’ll hear something drop, if I am any judge. I saw Fred last night headed for the railroad. He didn’t see me. I was hiding behind a fence, watching him. I think he boarded a freight-train; I am not sure.”
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1
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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ledgers
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| n.分类账( ledger的名词复数 ) | |
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6
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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13
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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14
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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15
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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falteringly
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| 口吃地，支吾地 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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30
hoarding
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| n.贮藏；积蓄；临时围墙；囤积v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的现在分词 ) | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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38
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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40
defalcation
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| n.盗用公款，挪用公款，贪污 | |
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41
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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42
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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43
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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44
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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