een his teeth. I could see at a glance they hadn't thrown any scare
into him yet. He was just beginning to fight, that's all.

"Boy," says he, "bring in Dudley."

"Yes, sir," says I.

But, say, my heels dragged some as I went out. Course I didn't know what
they wanted of the old boy; but it didn't look to be such a wild guess
that they'd picked him to play the goat part. I finds him perched up on
his stool, calm and serene, workin' away on the ledgers as industrious
as if nothin' special was goin' on.

"Dudley," says I, "are you feelin' strong?"

"Why, Torchy," says he, "I am feeling about as usual, thank you."

"Well, brace yourself then," says I; "for there's rough goin' ahead.
You're wanted in on the carpet."

"Me?" says he. "Mr. Ellins wants me?"

"Uh-huh," says I, "him and the rest of 'em. But don't let 'em put any
spell on you. It's your cue now to forget the meek and lowly business. I
know you ain't strong for bluffin' through a game; but for the love of
soup put up a front to-day!"

Dudley, he only smiles and shakes his head. Then off he toddles, wearin'
his old ink-stained office coat and even keepin' on the green eye-shade.

Well, I don't know how long they had him on the grill; but it couldn't
have been more'n half an hour, for along about three o'clock I strolls
into the audit department, and there's old Dudley back on his perch
writin' away again.

"Say, are you it?" says I.

[Illustration: WE MUST HAVE BEEN A GREAT PAIR.]

"Why, how is that?" says he.

"Did they tie anything to you?" says I. "You know--con you into takin'
the blame, or anything like that?"

"Blame for what?" says he. "I don't believe I understand. But nothing of
the sort was mentioned. I was merely given some instructions about my
work."

"Oh!" says I. "That's all, eh? And you've gone right at it, have you?"

"No," says he. "The fact is, Torchy, I am writing out my resignation."

"What! Quittin'?" says I. "Say, don't you see what a hole that puts you
in? Why, it makes you the goat for fair! If you do that you'll need bail
inside of forty-eight hours--and you won't get it. Look here, Dudley,
take my advice and tear that up."

"But I can't, Torchy," says he, "really, I can't."

"Why not?" says I. "You've got a couple of hands, ain't you? And what'll
you do for another job if you chuck this one? Say, why in blazes are you
so anxious to take your chances between Sing Sing and the bread line?"

He's there with the expl