“He ought to know about this,” said Compton.  “Wait; I’ll have him in,” and he pressed a button on his desk.  A moment later Jimmy entered, and Compton showed him the note.

“What do you think of it?” asked Compton.

“I doubt if it amounts to much,” replied Jimmy.  “The men have no grievance.  It may be the work of some fellow who was afraid of his job, but I doubt if it really emanates from any organized scheme of intimidation.  If I were you, sir, I would simply ignore it.”

To Jimmy’s surprise, Bince agreed with him.  It was the first time that Bince had agreed with anything Jimmy had suggested.

“Very well,” assented Compton, “but we’ll preserve this bit of evidence in case we may need it later,” and he handed the slip of paper to Edith Hudson.  “File this, please, Miss Hudson,” he said; and then, turning to Bince: 

“It may be nothing, but I don’t like the idea of it.  There is apt to be something underlying this, or even if it is only a single individual and he happens to be a crank he could cause a lot of trouble.  Suppose, for instance, one of these crack-brained foreigners in the shop got it into his head that Torrance here was grinding him down in order to increase our profits?  Why, he might attack him at any time!  I tell you, we have got to be prepared for such a contingency, especially now that we have concrete evidence that there is such a man in our employ.  I think you ought to be armed, Mr. Torrance.  Have you a pistol?”

Jimmy shook his head negatively.

“No, sir,” he said; “not here.”

Compton opened a desk drawer.

“Take this one,” he said, and handed Jimmy an automatic.

The latter smiled.  “Really, Mr. Compton,” he said, “I don’t believe I need such an article.”

“I want you to take it,” insisted Compton.  “I want you to be on the safe side.”

A moment later Bince and Jimmy left the office together.  Jimmy still carried the pistol in his hand.

“You’d better put that thing in your pocket,” cautioned Bince.

They were in the small office on which Compton’s and Bince’s offices opened, and Jimmy had stopped beside the desk that had been placed there for him.

“I think I’ll leave it here,” he said.  “The thing would be a nuisance in my pocket,” and he dropped it into one of the desk drawers, while Bince continued his way toward the shop.

Compton was looking through the papers and letters on his desk, evidently searching for something which he could not find, while the girl sat awaiting for him to continue his dictation.

“That’s funny,” commented Compton.

“I was certain that that letter was here.  Have you seen anything of a letter from Mosher.”

“No, sir,” replied Edith.

“Well, I wish you would step into Mr. Bince’s office, and see if it is on his desk.”

Upon the assistant general manager’s desk lay a small pile of papers, face down, which Edith proceeded to examine in search of the Mosher letter.  She had turned them all over at once, commencing at what had previously been the bottom of the pile, so that she ran through them all without finding the Mosher letter before she came to Murray’s epistle.