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Charles shook his head sceptically and Mr. Macy’s answer next day was equally unsatisfactory.

Dalyrimple had gone to the office just before closing time.

“Mr. Macy, I’d like to speak to you.”

“Why—yes.” The unhumorous smile appeared. The voice was faintly resentful.

“I want to speak to you in regard to more salary.”

Mr. Macy nodded.

“Well,” he said doubtfully, “I don’t know exactly what you’re doing. I’ll speak to Mr. Hanson.”

He knew exactly what Dalyrimple was doing, and Dalyrimple knew he knew.

“I’m in the stock-room—and, sir, while I’m here I’d like to ask you how much longer I’ll have to stay there.”

“Why—I’m not sure exactly. Of course it takes some time to learn the stock.”

“You told me two months when I started.”

“Yes. Well, I’ll speak to Mr. Hanson.”

Dalyrimple paused irresolute.

“Thank you, sir.”

Two days later he again appeared in the office with the result of a count that had been asked for by Mr. Hesse, the bookkeeper. Mr. Hesse was engaged and Dalyrimple, waiting, began idly fingering a ledger on the stenographer’s desk.