"Who's that? What do you want of him?" asked Dan, Senior,
doubtfully, and rubbing his hand, for the stranger's grip had
been as hearty as his voice.

The other laughed in his jovial way. "Why, to tell the truth, I
don't know his name. I didn't ask him. He's not much more than
a boy--a sturdy youngster with a quick way with him. He did me a
service the other evening and I wanted to see him."

"There ain't any boy working here," snapped Mr. Dwight. "Them's
all the clerks I got behind the counter--and there ain't one of
'em under thirty, I'll be bound."

"That's so," admitted the stranger. "And although it was so dark
I could not see that fellow's face, and I didn't ask his name, I
am sure he was young."

"I jest discharged the only boy I had--and scamp enough he was,"
snarled Mr. Dwight. "If you were looking for him, you'd have
been sorry to find him. I didn't know but I'd have to send for a
policeman to git him off the premises."

"What--what?"

"That's what I tell you. He was a bad egg. Mebbe he's the boy
you want--but you won't get no good of him when you find him.
And I've no idea where he's to be found now," and the old man
turned his back on the man in the gray coat and went into his
office.