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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Oct. 31, 1915)
THE SUNDAY OREGONIAX, PORTLAXD, OCTOBER 31, 1915. She C)e0 $deirhire 6 Bresenied 7j in COLIABORATION IAM0D5 Bfflffi PlJSERS: E1EW tilltllll li&cmliere WRITTEN BT GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER Author of "Get-Rlch-4uiek:-WaIllacford" DRAMATIZED BT CHARLES W. GODDARD Builder of the World Greatest Serials I.VTRODUCIXO BURR McINTOSH J. Rufus Wallingford MAX FIGMAN Blackie Daw LOLITA ROBERTSON Violet (Copyright by The Star Co.) the: master touch. AS BIG and genial Jim Wallingford and lean and dapper Blackie Daw swung on the train, the two War den girls rushed up to meet them, eager and excited. "We thought the train would never tome," said Violet, slipping her hand through Blackie's arm. and casting down her lashes after he had gazed quite long enough into her sparkling blue eyes. "You're more than an hour late." "I had the train stop to gather these violets for thee," grinned Blackie. and with a tremendous flourish, presented her with a smooth little white box, tied with a florist's ribbon. "And I suppose you plucked the boxes from a box hedge," laughed Fannie Warden, the flush of welcome still on her brown cheeks. She was happily untying the ribbon bow, and big J. Rufus was smiling down at her In pleased content. "Business before pleasure," he chuckled. He led the way to a wait ing bus, and as It started, the rattle of the infernal contraption gave them as much privacy as If they had been locked in a vault "What do you know .bout Prlne?" "Not as much as we had hoped to find out," reported Fannie. "He prac tically owns the town, and we know that he is guilty, for he recognized us when we went into his bank, and dropped his eyes. We've investigated all the directors of the bank and all the employes. The directors we can't get anything out of." "They're a sporty crowd," interrupted Violet. "They spend a tremendous mount of money. Tell him about Qualey. Fannie." "I was coming to him." went on Fan rile," her brown eyes deeply thought ful. "He's the head bookkeeper at the hank. He knows us, too." "He jumps and Jerks every time he ees us, so we let him see us as often as possible," added Violet, not noticing. In her excitement, that she was clutch ing Blackie's little finger for em phasis. He let her do it, and grinned. "He's screamingly funny," laughed Violet. "He's rabbit-eyed, and his long ears. actually twitch when he's startled. His heck sticks out of the middle of his collar like a stalk of asparagus growing through a hoop." "Thin little fellow," eh?" Walling ford and Blackie looked at each other thoughtfully. "He seems to me as if he might be n the verge of a nervous breakdown," considered Fannie. "And we've been paying so much attention to him be cause we think he's your source of in formation." "Hey!" yelled a voice outside. "Hey! Hey there!" Running beside the bus was a boy ao freckled that he looked like a Span ish omelet. He held his cap In his hand, and his carrot-colored hair was flying. He grinned ecstatically as he aaw Blackie and Wallingford. and Jumped on the rear step of the bus with a flying leap. He Jerked open the door and thruBt in his head. "Hey!" he said in a hoarse whisper, and reached for the bell strap. "Qua ley's leaving the bank." "Goodbye," cried Violet; Jumping up as the bus stopped abruptly. "We'll see you at the hotel." said Fannie, and the girls were out and fol lowing Toad Jessup before the men could offer to help them alight. Blackie Daw blew an ecstatic kiss after them. While J. Rufus and Blackie Daw were laughingly declining to purchase a va cant lot opposite Prine's bank, and ad Joining Prine's Emporium, and fronting Prine's residence, the Warden siBters were following the fast retreating Toad Jessup, who was sleuthing the track of the nerve-racked Qualey. A curious path the bookkeeper had taken, es pecially curious In view of the fact that this was 10:30 in the morning. Straight out into the country, and along the willow bank of a little creek, and to a sheltered pond where he stopped abruptly and paced up and down on the sandy bank: while Toad Jessup, hid den behind the wllows, watched him with hawk-like keenness, until he was satisfied that the man would stay where he was. Then Toad Jessup, as noiseless as an eel, stepped back along the bank to meet the breathless girls. "Hush!" whispered Toad, gripping each one tensely by the hand. "Got him treed! Foller me! Hush!" On tiptoe, and careful to avoid even the snapping of a twig, the three stole along the bank Indian file, until they reached the willows surrounding the pond. Toad Jessup was the first, of course, and as he peered through the leaves he jerked back hastily. "Gee! He's got a gun; and he's scared of it!" Bookkeeper Qualey was, without doubt, "scared of the gun." He stood at the edge of the pond, revolver in hand, trembling from head to foot. He had Just raised It to his head as the horror-stricken girls peered through the leaves, but. before they could utter an outcry, he had thrown the revolver on the sand, edging away from it aa if It were a snake. Again ha walked agitatedly up and dowa the sand, then suddenly he threw off his coat, and it was plain now that he had reached a determination, for his pale faca was set and grim as he ran toward the spring-board which hung over the water. "Stop!" Fannie Warden had burst through the leaves, and the startled man on the spring-board halted almost in the act of leaping. "You can serve a useful purpose by living, Mr. Qualey," said Fannie, when the man was" able to listen to her with calm attention. "I know someone who can help you. Won't you come with us to the hotel, and have a talk with Mr. Wallingford and Mr. Daw?" "Twenty-one thousand three sixty five, twenty-seven," repeated Qualey, with a strange new excitement upon him. He sought the faces of the five directors one by one. prepared to twitch at the first word. "Very well, Qualey," said President Prlne, in dismissal, and his eyes caught those of Secretary Morris for just an Instant. "Fortunately it isnt" much," the fat director consoled himself. He wore a plaid bow tie and an upturned nose, and the only distress of his life was that he might be distressed about something. "The amount makes no difference," snapped the little director with the fierce whiskers. "The trouble is that the stockholders are likely to bother around with impertinent questions about our other loans." The bookkeeper's eyes rounded until his high-arched brows stopped their spread. "There is likely to be an investiga tion," he guessed, holding his wrist. "No," .growled President Prine, his dimple deepening as he realized that the bookkeeper was still there. "Get back to your work, Qualey." "Wouldn't it be a kindness for us to raise a private fund to cancel that note of the Wickers' Manufacturing Company?" asked President Prlne. The suggestion was thoughtfully re ceived. "Then the bank would not need to report the loss," speculated the high shouldered one. A young man knocked and came in. "A gentleman wishes to speak with the board," he told President Prlne, proffering a card. Each of the five directors glanced at the others. None of them glanced at the young man. "J. Rufus Wallingford." read the president aloud, and the dimple deep ened in hla chin. "Never heard of him." "He says that he wishes to address the board in the handling of deteriorat ing loans. He's a specialist in banking troubles," reported the young man. Silence. Everybody was thinking. President Prine walked out of the other door. He strolled around into the paying teller's case and counted the morning's checks. "Send him in," directed President Prlne, returning to the ooardroom, and, a minute and a half later, J. Rufus Wallingford stood before them, thor oughly at ease and in smiling posses sion of them every one. "Gentlemen," said he. in a round voice which had a suspicion of the ora torical in It. "I am a professional goat." and he chuckled jovially at them, his broad shoulders heaving, his eyes half closing, and the color of his face deep ening. "We win." declared Wallingford, to Blackie Daw, as the telephone bell an nounced President Prine. "It's a safe bet to tell any crook he'd better come and see you. He always comes." Blackie rose to go. "According to your program, I don't get a speaking part in this until the last act," he observed. "Stick for the chat." grinned Wal lingford. "A crook's always more un comfortable with two in the room," President Prine proved the truth of that observation by losing a degree of his suavity the moment he caught sight of the lanky black-mustached partner of Wallingford. "Mr. Daw; Mr. Prine," introduced Wallingford urbanely. "Mr. Daw is one of my trusted men. His specialty is entering bankruptcy." Mr. Prine, surveying Mr. Daw in the coal-black eye, began to look as if he were sorry he had come. "You're introducing me to a lot of new thoughts," he observed, deciding to sit in the big leather chair Walling ford pushed forward. The chair looked inviting, but a man sat huddled back in It so deep and so low that he was at a tremendous psychological disad vantage. Wallingford. sitting opposite in a stiff chair, fairly towered over him. "You were so vague at the bank this morning that I scarcely under stood anything more than your invita tion to call. So I have called; out of curiosity." Wallingford grinned down at him. "You called to help yourself out of a scrape," he declared, looking Mr. Prine unwaveringly in the eye. "Somebody has misplaced the funds of the Peo ple's Bank, and you can't let go as easy as you thought you could." Mr. Prlne managed it this time. Ha rose from his chair and looked prop erly insulted. "This is an outrage!" he blustered. Blackie Daw had studied the man's countenance to some purpose, and now he assisted Wallingford with one of those lightning flashes of Judgment. "Oh, sit down!" he ordered President Prine, and pushed that dignified gen tleman in the chest with a handful of long fingers; whereupon Mr. Prine having been lightly balanced, sat down with a grunt and with a red face. "Tell him he's a crook, Jim." "You're a crook!" immediately charged Wallingford, extending an im pressive finger toward President Prine. "We have the goods on you, because somebody who knows too much got six ounces too much of alcohol in his skin." That shot told. In President Prine's countenance could be seen a rapid and worried calculation as to who the Ine briate might be. "If this insult is based on a drunken conversation " J. Rufus Wallingford arose and opened the door with great lmpresslve ness. "If you don't care to listen to what 1 have to Bay, the door's open, and no body's holding you," he stated. v President Prine looked at the door, but he did not get up. Blackie Daw watched him a long moment, and then, with a grin, sauntered to the telephone and ordered drinks. President Prlne became less indig nant than he was interested. "I don't think I follow you." "I'll explain Mr. Daw's business," re sumed Wallingford, as Blackie re turned from the 'phone. "He is willing to borrow any amount of money on his notes; and not get the money." President Prine's eyes seemed to draw closer together. ' "I don't see It," he acknowledged. "No," agreed Wallingford. "If It were so simple as that, you might have thought of it yourself. Here's what we'll do with you. For fifty thousand dollars we'll step in and bear the blame for anything irregular in your bank. If anybody's pinched, we'll stand the pinch. If anybody's to go to Honduras, we'll do the traveling." "How?" "You step down and out of the bank with every bad note for which you are responsible paid off and entered in the bank's cash account; then we step in and cover the cash which isn't here." "The banking laws in this state" he advised. "Let us do the worrying about that. Now we'll get down to figures and to details, Mr. Prine. What are the amounts of your bogus securities?" The rabbit-eyed bookkeeper an swered the bell of the new manager with weak knees, but the hugely im pressive Wallingford beamed on him with a cordial good-will which was so full of vitality that it seemed like a tonic. "Well. Qualey. here we are," ob served Wallingford, pleasantly. "Yes, sir," and Mr. Qualey's face brightened for the first time in five years. "Now we'll make this an honest bank," chuckled the big man. "Please bring me these notes.' and he handed over a list, one glance at which brought back Into Qualey's counte nance all the wrinkles ha had been ac cumulating, since he first began to blink his eye at the sight of a brass button. "Yes, sir," fluttered Mr. Qualey, and taking that list into the vault of the bank, he leaned hla head for five min utes against the cool surface of locker 662. When he brought the familiar notes to Wallingford, he laid them down, and crumpled up In a chair like a ripped balloon. "Very good," remarked Wallingford, lighting a thick, black cigar. "How's our currency supply?" "Rather low." stated the bookkeeper, the color coming gradually back into bis cheeks. "Very well, Qualey. We'll have these notes paid In currency. I'll issue the demand in writing. It's a good thing for a bank not to let its currency sup ply get too low. Cancel all these notes with your time-stamp, showing the date, hour, and minute of cancellation, return them to me by 11 o'clock, and enter them as paid, in cash." "Yes, sir," heartily agreed Qualey. There was animation in his tone, the moisture of relief in his eye, actual color in his cheeks; but he was holding his wrist with a grip which was leav ing finger-marks. "We get the actual cash, do we? Of course!" Wallingford blew a placid smoke ring. "Not so," he said. "Not so!" "Oh, Lord!" groaned Qualey, his eyes popping. "I don't see why we can't resign In a body and be done with it," growled the fierce-whiskered little director, who had been out of town and was being plunged Into the whirl of events with out explanation. The president, the secretary, the high shouldered director, and the fat one with the upturned nose were each ready to tell him. "In that case we'd have nothing to say about our successors, stated Presi dent Prine, who was quicker of speech than the others, and his dimple deep ened with misgiving as he glanced at the four strangers clustered with Wal lingford around the tick of the grand father's clock. "Our resignation in a body would necessitate a special stock holders' meeting for an election of of ficers, and, since we no longer hold a majority of stock, we would have suc cessors who" and he paused for a choice of words "who would not un derstand finance." "Oh!" observed the fierce-whiskered director, his- face lighting with pleas ure. "As I see It, we step out of of fice with every piece of commercial paper about which there could be any . possible question called In, paid in cash and canceled." '"All paid." corroborated Secretary Morris, twirling endlessly at his glossy brown mustache. He was worried this morning. He was about to purchase a new car, and he could not decide on which of two makes. . "In cash," added the high-shouldered director, cracking the knuckles of his ten fingers . In succession. The left thumb gave him some trouble, but he managed It. "Fine!" exclaimed the belated little director. "Where is the cash?' , "Well, as it Just happens, there is no need to handle the actual specie, since Mr. Wallingford infoms me that he is to make a specie loan of J60.000 dollars more than the amount collected, and his client will accept specie orders on the amounts represented by the notes, taking the notes themselves for deliv ery." The proceedings which followed were brief and crisp. President Prine re signed from his office and from the directorate. The remaining directors immediately named J. Rufus Walling ford as director to fill the unexpired vacancy in spite of the fact that he only held one share of stock. Imme diately thereafter they elected J. Rufus Wallingford president, and at once in ducted that genial and smiling finan cier Into office. Secretary Morris resigned, and no sooner had he done so than he ceased to twirl his mustache. The board elected to take his place one Paul Pol let, a short, chunky young man with thick spectacles and a wiry pompa dour. The fierce-whiskered director re signed and was replaced by the stran ger who ha8 sat nearest the clock. This new director's name was W. O. Jones, and he was so bald-headed that a short-sighted lamp-cleaner had once mistaken him for an are lamp. The fat director with the upturned nose was replaced by one Chinchilla Wil liams, who had received his nickname from the luxuriant fringe concealing his countenance. Jim Measen, a big boned man with a red neck and a much used mustache, replaced the director with the high shoulders, and then President Wallingford, with a tap of .his gavel, announced smilingly that the board would go Into executive session; whereupon the retiring directors arose to file out and leave the People's Bank to its fate. Ex-President Prlne paused to bend over the chair of President Wallingford. "It JUBt occurs to me that it might be best not to make that new loan until tomorrow," he suggested. Wallingford was grateful to him for having paved the way to a suggestion of his own. "I think Til chance it." he agreed, with a slight contraction of his brows; "but if a bank examiner were to suddenly pop In here tomorrow morning, or if anything else were to happen, I might have to hustle to ac count for that 1330,000 of missing spe cie." "That's up to you," returned Prlne gayly. "We're leaving this bank in as eolvent a condition as it was on the day of the opening," and he sauntered out through the lobby, where simple minded business men were eagerly de positing their money. "Mr. President," remarked W. O. or Onion Jones, as soon as the door had closed behind the last of the retiring directors, "I move that we all go into tne vault and split the cash." "Meeting's adjourned," chuckled President Wallingford. "And let me warn you loose-jawed bankers to buy seme sticky taffy and keep right on chewing It until you get on that two forty train. Sign these resignations, and don't fill in the dates." Producing a big red pocketbook, he handed them each a thousand-dollar bill and a ticket to New York. A tall, thin gentleman with a black mustache walked up to the window of the paying teller in the People's Bank and laid down a check for 150.00o, "Currency, please," he observed. The paying teller, who was an el derly man with severe spectacles, ex amined the check on both sides, and Blackie Daw from as many angles aa possible. "H. O. Daw," he voicelessly formed with his lips, and a knot of concentra tion sprang between his eyes, lifting bis spectacles. That name was a new one to him, and he consulted his refer ences. The account was there, brand new, and for the exact amount men tioned on the check. "Have you any means of identification, Mr. Daw?" "The man who took my money should be able to identify me," stated Mr. Daw, blowing a thin blue thread of smoke into the gilt dome. "I can't pick him out." returned Mr. Daw, his neck refusing most insolently to turn. "It's his business to pick me out. I want my money," he shouted. "There's no necessity for shouting, protested the paying teller, glaring at Blackie. "You'll have your money as soon as you're properly identified. There's something Irregular here. I don't find yourMgnature on file." The excitable Mr. Daw suddenly grew furious. He shook both fists at the paying teller's grill. "I want my money!" he yelled. "You're trying to delay me! There's a rumor all over town that the old offi cers looted the bank and resigned. If I don't get my money right away I'll call an officer." The lady depositor was the first to reach the paying teller's window, while the hay and feed merchant was still hesitating over his deposit slip. The lady sweetly shoved Blackie Daw aside and pushed a check in at the window. "Where's Mr. Prlne, Mr. Douglas?" she sweetly inquired. "He's not In today," replied the pay ing teller, his severe spectacles stray ing from Blackie to the receiving teller ,to the casl ler and to the secre tary's desk. "And Mr. Morris is not in?" still sweetly. "Not today." confessed the paying teller, the knot between his eyes re laxing and his severe spectacles de scending a fraction of an inch as he smiled diplomatically on the lady. The door of the president's office stood ajar. Now It opened and big J. Rufua Wallingford came out. In plain view. The lady, who, though very much concentrated, had noticed a car nation on the mandolin player's desk and a fleck on the collar of the assist ant secretary and a ptn on the floor back near the vault entrance. Immedi ately drew her check toward her. "Who is that gentleman?" she wanted to know. The paying teller coughed and his spectacles went up. "Our new manager, Mr. Wallingford," he admitted. "I think I'll change the figures on this check. Mr. Douglas." the lady sweetly observed. "What is my balance, please?" And reaching inside the wicket for a pen, she produced her tiny folding check-book and prepared to write. The hay-and-feed merchant tore up his deposit-slip and hurried over to a side desk. The butter-and-egg merchant had already drawn a check for his bal ance. There wee eight depositors in the bank by now. The butter-and-egg merchant, waiting his turn at the win dow, was talking excitedly to three of them, and displaying his check. "Would you mind waiting a few minutes, Mrs. Grandin?" asked the pay ing teller anxiously aa he counted out the lady's money. "I'd like to talk with you." "I'll be back," promised Mrs. Grandin sweetly, as she stuffed the money hast ily into her handbag. "I want to tele phone some friends of mine," and as she darted away the raying teller real ized with a aickenlng sense of disaster that the minute Mrs. Grandin emerged from the door. Irreparable damage would be done. The butter-and-egg man lunged his bulk Into the space vacated by the lady and slammed down a check. His eyes were bulging and his cheeks were working. Blackie Daw lunged into the butter-and-egg man's side with a Bharp elbow and bumped him away; then Blackie wound his long fingers Into the grill, to hold his place in front of the . wicket. "My money," he howled. "You're holding me back because a hundred and fifty thousand dollars cash will clean out your bank! You're going to have a run today and you know It!" "Call an officer!" 'ordered the paying teller, about whose aged mouth there was a snap which Blackie rather ad mired. President Wallingford stepped for ward. . "I know the man," he said, entering the paying-teller's cage. "The account is correct, give him the money." He picked up the check, and put his O. K. on it. "What do you mean by this?" he demanded of H. G. Daw. "Are you trying to ruin the People's Bunk?' "They wouldn't give me my money." loudly explained Mr. Daw. "I don't want to put the old officers in bad, but the truth about Prlne and the rest of them had to come out before the day's over, anyway, and I wanted my money!" "Shut up, you fool!" ordered Walling ford, quite visibly angry. "Come in side, and wait until your money can be counted." "Give me room, will you! will you!" Blackie excitedly requested of the de positors who ,were crowding him. There were nine of them now in line and there was no depositor In front of the receiving-teller's window. Blackie Daw picked up a big yellow suitcase, and "Remember," he cautioned the paying teller, as he moved away, "no one gets paid until I get mine!" The paying teller looked at the re ceiving teller, and the receiving teller looked across at the paying teller. Both were lost In profound wonder as to how that account of H. G. Daw's had come on the books, but they didn't speak. No employe desired to know anything which would be embarrassing on a wit ness stand, with the sole exception of the mandolin player; and he was handi capped. "Shall I leave you the little toilet bag?" asked Blackie Daw in the office of President Wallingford. and he af fectionately patted the yellow suitcase, now stuffed with money. "No," directed Wallingford, with a strained look on his face. He sat down with frowning anxiety. "I don't want the money on me." "I wish I could stay." reflected Blackie, his eyes kindling. "You're liable to have a scrimmage before you get out of this." "I think not,", calculated Walling - ford, though the look of anxiety was still on his brow, "m have the town back of me if Prlne tries to start any thing. There's no vengeance In a man who's trying to save his own neck." Twenty minutes later, Blackie Daw walked out the back way way with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the yellow suitcase, and Wallingford immediately sent for the bookkeeper. "Well, Qualey, we're caught," he cheerfully told the shiverer. who stood before him. "We'll probably all be Jailed inside of twenty-four hours." Mr. Qualey crumpled in a chair and shrank three sizes. "We're lost!" exclaimed Wallingford. "Listen to that mob!" "There's one way out of this by which no one need be arrested. Prine and Morris and the other former directors must cover that deficit on the Jump and in currency!" "That's right!" agreed the bookkeep er, with unexpected determination. "They're the ones who took the money, and they're the ones w-ho have to save us." "Gee! It tookou a long time to find your sand!" chuckled Wallingford, wip ing his brow in relief. "You hustle right around to Prine and tell him what they have to do." "You bet I will!" declared Qualey. shaking his fist. "They can raise the money among them. If they have to shut up the Pit bucket-shop, and all go broke." In a few minutes Prine slipped in the back way and confronted Wallingford. "A fine mess you got us Into!" he hotly charged. "Rotten!" agreed Wallingford. "Just hear them out there." "It's none of my affair," declared Prlne. "I was astonished that you sent crazy Qualey to me. When we stepped out of this bank, we left it in a perfect ly solvent condition. I can prove it by the books." "You'll never have a chance." Wal lingford told him. with a grin. "If this were only a matter of legal conse quences, you might bluff; but, if this bank closes " its doors with a deficit of nearly half its capital, the people of this town will take you apart for souvenirs. If you don't believe it, open the front door and show yourself." Prlne walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. He paused as he heard his own name shouted. An angry depositor was demanding to know where he was. "I'm sorry you blame me." grinned Wallingford. "You see. I haven't had a chance to pull the scheme that was to square you. I don't suppose anybody figured on the possibility of a run." There was a knock at the door. The mandolin player came in, his expres sion entirely unchanged. "'Several of the depositors have asked to see Mr. Prlne. If he Is In." he po litely reported, thrumming on the edge of the door with his finger-tips. The tune was, "Oh, Myrtle. My Sweetheart." "Not here!" snapped Prine. "Very well, sir." accepted the mando lin player, no hair of his curly forelock awry. "Good work," commented Walling ford. "Prlne, we have cash enough to last about one hour, by slow counting. Before that's gone, you'd better be pouring the currency In here." To add efect to his threat, he set the door about an Inch ajar. The lobby of the bank was packed solidly and a roar came from the crowd, like a zoo Just before feeding time. Even Wallingford paled as he caught their temper from their tone. "I dare you to let this bank close." bluffed Wallingford. shutting the door. "Moreover, they'll mob you Just as quickly for my deficit as for your own. So get your crowd together, and shoot in that four-fifty quick?" "I doubt If I can get back to my own office," speculated Prine. listening to the frequent recurrence of his name. "Go out the front way," advised Wal lingford. "Here are the minutes of the meeting in which you resigned. I saved them out of the minute-book on loose sheets. Tear them up, and make these people a speech. Tell them It's all a mistake. Damn them a little, and tell them to draw their money." Prlne hesitated for just a moment, then he grabbed the minute-sheets; tore them Into small bits and threw them Into the waste-basket. "I'll make them a speech, all right," he snapped at Wallingford, his dimple black. "I'll tell them the only defalca tion was yours!" Wallingford touched a beil, and Qualey came In. stiffening at the sight of Prlne. "Qualey. tell President Prine where the deficit went." "The Pit Brokerage Company,' shrilled the desperate Qualey. "You'll swear that on the witness jstand?" "You bet I will!" Prlne merely glanced at his book keeper, and sat down at the 'phone. He called up his fellow directors In succession, and told them what they had to do and how rapidly they had to do it- Then he walked out into the brass-grilled bank-cage, and made a speech; a nice speech, a frank, straightforward, manly speech, the speech of an honest banker. At first they howled him down, but he finally got their ears, and told them how the absurd rumor had arisen, merely be cause the bank bad employed a man ager who was a stranger. Honest and capable as ho was. that manager had been dismissed. Above all things, he told them that their money was there! He wanted them to draw it, and be ashamed of themselves, and bring it back next day It was a fine speech, and they believed him, but they went on drawing their money just the same. The paying teller spoke to him aa he started back to the office. "The currency Is running rather low, Concludea ea face