“Huh!” grunted Amos, whose sensibilities had been wounded by the events of the evening, “I didn’t cut no el’phant ner no cow, ner rob no hen roost neither, but I guess he won’t starve ’fore mornin’,” and with that he proceeded to fill up the stove and shut the dampers.
“That means ‘git,’ I reckon,” remarked Bill as he watched the operation.
“Wa’al,” said Mr. Elright, “if you fellers think you’ve spent enough time droolin’ ’round here swapping lies, I think I’ll go to bed,” which inhospitable and injurious remark was by no means taken in bad part, for Dick said, with a laugh:
“Well, Ame, if you’ll let me run my face for ’em, Bill ’n I’ll take a little somethin’ for the good o’ the house before we shed the partin’ tear.” This proposition was not declined by Mr. Elright, but he felt bound on business principles not to yield with too great a show of readiness.
“Wa’al, I don’t mind for this once,” he said, going behind the bar and setting out a bottle and glasses, “but I’ve gen’ally noticed that it’s a damn sight easier to git somethin’ into you fellers ’n ’t is to git anythin’ out of ye.”
The next morning at nine o’clock John presented himself at Mr. Harum’s banking office, which occupied the first floor of a brick building some twenty or twenty-five feet in width. Besides the entrance to the bank, there was a door at the south corner opening upon a stairway leading to a suite of two rooms on the second floor.
The banking office consisted of two rooms—one in front, containing the desks and counters, and what may be designated as the “parlor” (as used to be the case in the provincial towns) in the rear, in which were Mr. Harum’s private desk, a safe of medium size, the necessary assortment of chairs, and a lounge. There was also a large Franklin stove.
The parlor was separated from the front room by a partition, in which were two doors, one leading into the inclosed space behind the desks and counters, and the other into the passageway formed by the north wall and a length of high desk, topped by a railing. The teller’s or cashier’s counter faced the street opposite the entrance door. At the left of this counter (viewed from the front) was a high-standing desk, with a rail. At the right was a glass-inclosed space of counter of the same height as that portion which was open, across which latter the business of paying and receiving was conducted.
As John entered he saw standing behind this open counter, framed, as it were, between the desk on the one hand, and the glass inclosure on the other, a person whom he conjectured to be the “Chet” (short for Chester) Timson of whom he had heard. This person nodded in response to our friend’s “Good morning,” and anticipated his inquiry by saying:
“You lookin’ for Dave?”
“I am looking for Mr. Harum,” said John. “Is he in the office?”