't fire ---- things like you
instead of a good man."

Marks was speaking to boys of longer service in the bank than himself;
but it is an unwritten law that the cash-book man is supreme in his own
circle--and the gabblers mentioned were standing on one of the radii.
They glanced at his red face, his burly figure and small ankles, and
gradually moved away.

In the furnace-room three old clerks were solemnly conversing, like the
ghosts of departed bank-victims once incarcerated there.

"It's the old story, Sam," said Key, referring to something Robb had
been saying about the Banfield affair; "Penton has gone there so
recently the bank couldn't transfer him without rousing suspicion in
the minds of Banfield customers; so they made Nelson the goat."

"They couldn't do it in Banfield, though," suggested Willis, "because
everybody there must know the boy is honest. They moved him to the
city to get him out of the way, and then waited a chance to fire him on
a trumped-up charge."

Robb turned his head and expectorated on the concrete floor.

"Boys," he said, "it's too dirty to talk about. It's like them, by
----, it's like them! They know that Penton is the thief and crook,
but they are afraid of losing business if they move him away. Evans
tells me another bank had a man up there and thought of opening. Old
Castle knows that, and he's afraid of giving a bad impression by
shifting managers. But he wants to make Penton believe that head
office trusts him, and in order to do that he fires the poor innocent
kid. In cases like this, to justify its bluff about seeing and knowing
everything that goes on, the bank _must_ have a suspicion, the wrong
_must_ be atoned for. If it will not answer to convict the guilty one
look for a goat. It doesn't matter a hang to the bank whether a
fellow's reputation is ruined or not. Bah! I'm sick of it."

Willis smiled around the stem of his pipe.

"I wonder," he said, "what they'll do with Penton. They certainly must
suspect him. They at least must know he's a booze fighter."

"Oh, don't worry," replied Key, "they're watching him. It doesn't suit
their present purpose to fire him, therefore they keep him on; but they
know perfectly well he won't try any more of his monkey work for a
while. They'll soak him some time, when the psychological moment
comes. I used to know the son-of-a-gun; he's a yellow dog, and he'll
be good now for a while out of pure cowardice. As for drin