Mr. Graves was at home, but he was not alone. Mr. Courtney had dropped in, and as he was still a director of the bank, it was natural that the conversation should turn upon affairs of the bank in which he and Mr. Graves had a common interest. Though no longer president, Mr. Courtney was still anxious to control the affairs of the bank, and to make it of as much service to himself as possible. He had recently become interested in certain speculative securities, through a firm of Wall Street brokers, and finding himself rather cramped for money, desired to obtain a loan on them from the bank. To this end he had sought a preliminary interview with Mr. Graves, previous to making a formal application to the full board of directors.

"You are aware, Mr. Courtney," said the president, "that to grant your request would be contrary to the general usage of the bank."

"I ought to know the usage of the bank, having served as president for three years," said Mr. Courtney. "In my time such loans were made."

Mr. Graves was aware of this, but he was also aware that such loans had been made on the former president's sole authority, and either to himself or some one of his friends, and that it was on account of this very circumstance that he had been removed from office.

"I know that such loans were made, but I am equally certain that such a course would not meet the approval of the directors."

"But," insinuated Mr. Courtney, "if you openly favored it, and my vote as director was given, we could probably influence enough other votes to accomplish our object."

"I cannot say whether this would or would not follow," said Mr. Graves, "but I am bound to say for myself that I cannot recommend, or vote for, granting such a loan."

"Perhaps you think I am not responsible," said Mr. Courtney, irritated.

"I presume you are, but that ought not to be considered, when the question is about violating our fixed usage."

"It seems to me, considering my official connection with the bank, that a point might be strained in my favor."

"That is not my view, Mr. Courtney; although I am now president, I should not care to ask any special favor of the bank. I prefer to be treated like any other customer."

Mr. Courtney mentally voted Graves slow and behind the times. In his views, one great advantage of holding a high financial position was to favor himself and his own interests, without special regard to the welfare of the corporation or stockholders.

"You wouldn't find many bank presidents agree with you, Mr. Graves," said Courtney impatiently.

"I am sorry to hear it," returned the president gravely. "It seems to me that I owe a duty to the stockholders of the bank which ought to override any personal considerations."

"You are very quixotic in your ideas," said Courtney coldly.

"I am sure I am right, at any rate," returned Graves firmly.

"I consider your refusal unfriendly—nay, more, I think it is calculated to throw suspicion on my financial position."

"Not at all. I have no reason to doubt your financial stability, and as to the unkindness, when I distinctly state that I would not ask such a favor for myself, you will see that I am disposed to treat you as well as myself."

"It may be so," sneered Courtney, "but I presume you are not at present in need of a personal loan, and—circumstances alter cases, you know."

"If you mean that I shall at any future time ask favors for myself, which, I am not disposed to grant to you, you are mistaken," said the president.

"My financial position is as strong as yours," said Courtney rather irrelevantly.

"Very probably you are a richer man than I am, but as I said, that is not in question."

At this point a servant entered, and said to the president:

"Mr. Graves, there is a boy outside who says he wants to see you."

"What boy is it?"

"Grit Morris."

"Very well; you can bring him in."

"The young boatman," said Courtney contemptuously. "I wouldn't allow a boy like that to take up my time."

"He may have something of importance to communicate. Besides, I don't set so high a value on my time."

This will illustrate the difference between the two men. Mr. Graves was pleasant and affable to all, while Mr. Courtney was stiff, and apparently always possessed of a high idea of his own importance and dignity. In this respect, his son Phil was his counterpart.

Into the presence of these two gentlemen Grit was admitted.

"Good morning, Grit," said the president pleasantly. "Take a seat. Margaret tells me you wish to see me."

"Yes, sir, I wish to see you on a matter of importance."

"Perhaps he wants a loan from the bank," suggested Mr. Courtney scornfully.

"If Grit wanted a loan, he would not need to apply to the bank," said Mr. Graves, in a friendly manner. "I would lend him, myself."

"Thank you, Mr. Graves," said Grit gratefully, "but I don't wish any loan for myself. My business relates to the bank, however."

Both gentlemen were rather surprised to hear this. They could not understand what business Grit could have with the bank.

"Go on, Grit," said Mr. Graves. "Mr. Courtney is one of our directors, so that you may speak freely before him."

"I understand," commenced Grit, coming at once to the point, "that you are intending to send up thirty thousand dollars in government bonds to the Merchants' Bank, in Boston."

Mr. Graves and Mr. Courtney looked at each other in surprise. This was a bank secret, and such matters were generally kept very close with them.

"How did you learn this?" asked the president, in surprise, "and if so, what can you have to say in regard to it?"

"Perhaps he wants to be the messenger," said Mr. Courtney, with a derisive smile.

Grit took no notice of this, for his mind was occupied with the plan of the would-be robbers.

"I will tell you at once," he said. "There is a plan to waylay the messenger, and relieve him of the bonds."

Here was a fresh surprise. Mr. Graves began to find Grit's communication of absorbing interest.

"How do you know this?" he asked cautiously.

"Because I overheard the robbers discussing their plan."

"You say the robbers. Then there are more than one?"

"Yes, there are two."

"Are you willing to tell me who they are, Grit?"

"That is what I came to tell you. I am sorry to say that one is my stepfather, as I am obliged to call him, Mr. Brandon."

"Mr. Brandon? I thought he was——" Here Mr. Graves paused, out of delicacy.

"He has been in prison until a few days since," said Grit, understanding what the president of the bank intended to say, "but now he is free."

"And where is he?"

"He is living at our house. Since he got back, he has given my mother and myself a great deal of trouble. Not content with living on us, he has spent what money he could get at the tavern, and because I would give him no more, he sold my boat without my knowledge."

"That was bad, Grit. To whom did he sell it?" asked Mr. Graves.

"To Mr. Courtney's son Phil!" answered Grit.

"My son's name is Philip," said Mr. Courtney stiffly.

"We boys generally call him Phil," said Grit, smiling. "However, that doesn't matter."

"My son had a right to purchase the boat," said Mr. Courtney.

"I have nothing to say as to that, at any rate now," returned Grit. "I only mention it to show how Mr. Brandon has treated us."

"Who was the other conspirator, Grit?" asked Graves.

"A companion of Mr. Brandon's, named Travers. I understand they are to be employed by a third person, now staying at the hotel, a man named Johnson."

"One thing more, Grit, how did you come to hear of their plan?"

Grit answered this question fully. He related how he had overheard the conference between his stepfather and Travers in the afternoon.

"This information is of great importance, Grit," said the president. "If, as you say, there are three conspirators, there would be a very good chance of their succeeding in overpowering any messenger, and abstracting the bonds. As it happens, the bonds do not belong to the bank, but to an individual depositor, but it would be very unpleasant and mortifying to have them taken from our messenger. It might lead to a supposition on the part of some that we didn't keep our secrets well, but suffered a matter as important as this to become known outside. Mr. Courtney, what would you advise to be done in such an emergency?"

Courtney always looked important when his advice was asked, and answered promptly:

"It is a very simple matter. Put the messenger on his guard. Supply him with a revolver, if need be, and if he is on the watch he can't be robbed."

Mr. Graves looked thoughtful, and appeared to be turning over this advice in his mind.

"If Mr. Courtney will excuse me," Grit said, "I think there is a better plan than that."

Courtney's lip curled.

"Ask the boy's advice, by all means, Mr. Graves," he said, with a palpable sneer. "It must be very valuable, considering his experience and knowledge of the world."