piece of paper. A stiff piece of paper. It made a sharp, shrill click that echoed. Felix leaned and picked the paper up. It was a bond! A thousand-dollar City of Charlestown bond!
There had been ten City of Charlestown bonds. Mr. Fairchild had cut the coupons from all ten. Felix had just recounted them and listed them in ink. Evidently one of the bonds had gotten shoved out of sight on the slippery surface of the table, and Mr. Fairchild had carelessly returned only nine to the tin box.
Felix stood contemplating the paper in his hand with slow and sluggish comprehension. He would give it to a bank official as he went out. No. Better return it directly to Mr. Fairchild. But Mr. Fairchild had said that he was not returning to his office until the next morning. Well, he wouldn't miss the bond before morning. More than likely, he would never miss it, or, if he did, he would lay its disappearance to his own carelessness (of which he was quite aware, and quite ashamed, too), and in selfprotection say nothing of it. He had once told Felix not to mention to Miss Ward, his secretary, the fact that he had misplaced an envelope in which there was two hundred and fifty dollars that she had just cashed for him for a business trip. The envelope had been found in the scrap-basket later by an office boy.
To Mr. Fairchild two hundred and fifty dollars
