wo and a half years of
office work were telling on him, although he scarcely realized to what
extent, and but for a very fortunate circumstance--which seemed to Evan
an extremely unfortunate one--he would have experienced a nervous
breakdown before long. But more about that circumstance later.

The bank door closed at three o'clock. Many people have an idea that
work inside a bank ceases at that hour. That is one of the many
delusions cherished respecting the business, one of the harmless
delusions. After three o'clock, especially in a city office, the real
strain begins. Tellers must balance their cash, and, on salaries
varying from $600 to $1,200 (often less than the former, but not so
often more than the latter) make good any loss sustained through the
day. Every balance is a nervous shock and drains away its share of the
clerk's vitality; if the chance of personal loss is hidden away in his
balance, the strain is that much the worse.

In the din that followed closing, Evan thought his head would burst.
The boys lighted their pipes and cigarettes, threw off their coats, and
commenced the scramble. Curses and complaints came from every quarter.
The place was a madhouse.

Even up in the accountant's department there was loud talking. Evan
was up there looking for the draft register when he heard the
accountant say:

"It's got to be stopped. If you think we're going to stand for this
sort of thing you're badly mistaken."

The man to whom V. W. Charon was speaking trembled slightly, not from
fear of the accountant but under the influence of alcohol. He lifted
his weary, glassy eyes to reply, but his lips moved inaudibly and he
stared at Evan.

"This has happened twice in the last month," continued Charon, sharply.

"Three times," corrected Castle.

The broad-shouldered figure paid no attention to anyone but Evan. He
staggered past the accountants and held out his hand to the new man.

"Sorry to--s-see you here," he stammered.

Evan grasped the hand of his old manager, Sam Robb.

CHAPTER XIII.

_THE MACHINERY GRINDS._

Castle turned his head and sneered, just as he used to do in Mt. Alban.

"You must come up and s-see me," said Robb.

"I will," replied Evan.

Watson came along for the draft register, winked at Robb, and returned
to his desk, followed by Nelson.

"Is Mr. Robb one of the clerks here, Bill?"

"Yes--liability ledger. I had it on my mind to-day to tell you, but
you wer