detained on some
of Mr. Sandford's private business, and it was perfectly feasible to
reconstruct its details. Mr. Sandford had been coached in his part by
Indiman, and the preparations for the experiment being finally
perfected, Sydenham was called in. He appeared, dressed in the same
clothes that he had worn the month before, looking a little pale,
indeed, but resolute and collected.

"Mr. Sydenham," said Indiman, keeping his eyes fixed on the young man's
face, "you will observe that this is January 9, 1903. Kindly seat
yourself at your desk, and remain there as passive as possible. Wait
now until we withdraw."

Through the half-opened door of Mr. Sandford's private office we could
see distinctly all that passed. Sydenham sat motionless at his desk;
Alden, the bank messenger, was within call in the outer office. The
hands of the clock, which had been set back, pointed to five minutes of
three.

A telegraph delivery boy entered and handed Sydenham a yellow envelope.
He signed for it and the boy withdrew. He opened it, and instead of a
written message drew out a fresh sprig of heliotrope. Motionless and
scarcely breathing, he sat and gazed at it as though he could never
fill his eyes with the sight.

"Now," said Indiman, pushing Mr. Sandford into the room where the young
cashier sat.

The conversation was a brief one, relating to the papers that Mr.
Sandford carried in his hand.

"Leave them on your way up-town in my box at the safe-deposit company,"
concluded Mr. Sandford. Then he took his hat and went out.

Sydenham swung back to his desk; the HERALD lying there was in his way,
and he tossed it onto the floor. Underneath lay a package of bills of
large denominations.

The cashier acted quickly. "Alden!" he called, and the messenger came
running in.

"I overlooked this package," said Sydenham; "it contains fifty thousand
dollars. Do you think you can get to the bank with it? You have a
minute and a half."

The messenger seized the package and dashed away. Sydenham looked again
at the sprig of heliotrope; he pressed it passionately to his lips.
Then carefully placing it in his pocket-book, he began an examination
of the papers left by Mr. Sandford. The clock struck three.

The clerk Alden re-entered. "They wouldn't take it," he said, and
handed the package of bills to Sydenham.

"Oh, very well," said the cashier, absently, "I'll take care of it.
That's all, Alden; you can go."

For an hour or more Syd