"What kind of a business is it?" Ben ventured to ask, surveying the
empty office with a puzzled look, which Mr. Fitch observed and
interpreted aright.

"We do a commission business," he said. "Of course, we keep no stock
of goods here. Business is not done in the city, my young friend, as
it is in the country."

"No, I suppose not," returned our hero.

"Without entering into details as to the character of our business,"
said Mr. Fitch, "I may say that you would be chiefly employed in
making collections. It is because considerable sums of money would
pass through your hands that we require a deposit in order to
protect ourselves. By the way, have you the fifty dollars with you?"

Ben admitted that he had.

Mr. Fitch's face brightened up, for he had not felt quite sure of
that.

"I am glad to hear of it," he said. "It shows that you mean
business. You may hand it to me, and I will give you a receipt for
it."

"I would like to ask you one or two questions first," said Ben,
making no movement toward his pocket.

Mr. Fitch frowned.