When morning came, he hurried to his office an hour earlier than usual. Only the office boy was there, sweeping out. Hill went to his desk, where the morning mail was left. But one letter was there, and that from Winn Hardy, dated in the city the night before and enclosing a check for two hundred and thirty dollars, with the information that it belonged to the firm and that he had severed his connection with them.
True to his nature, even in despair, Hill put it in his pocket, resolving to say nothing to Weston about it. Then, to kill time till Weston came, he opened the morning paper. On the front page was the staring headlines:--
THE ROCKHAVEN GRANITE COMPANY GONE TO SMASH THE PRESIDENT, WESTON, SAID TO HAVE SKIPPED
And then cold beads of sweat gathered on the face of Carlos B. Hill! All the horrible suspicion of the day before was now proven true! He waited to read no more, but with a groan of despair rushed, hatless, out of the office and ran to that of Simmons. That icicle of a man was there, calmly reading his mail.
"Where is Weston," almost screamed the half-insane Hill, "and what does all this mean?"
"I haven't the least idea where Mr. Weston is," replied Simmons, calmly. "Neither do I care. I balanced our account with him yesterday at the close of business, at his request, and beyond that have no interest."
"But where is he? Tell me quick, for God's sake!" shouted Hill, now trembling with excitement and fear. "I must know! Oh, what does this mean!"
"You had better go back to your own office and read the papers," answered the imperturbable Simmons, in a tone of disgust. "And when you go out again, put your hat on. As for Weston, I've done with him, and good riddance. He made a mess of his scheme, an ass of me 'on 'change' yesterday, and I hope I'll never see him again." And the always cool Simmons turned to his mail. Nothing short of a panic on the street or an earthquake ever disturbed him.
"But where is all the money we made yesterday?" came from Hill, in strident voice. "I want it, and I want it now!"
And he did want it more than he wanted good name, fame, wife, home, life, health, or God even!
"We made no money out of Rockhaven," answered Simmons, too disgusted even to be polite; "and I told you once, I have squared my account with Weston and paid him all I owe him. If that is not enough, I'll sing it to you."