The Daring Twins

Singularly enough, Mr. Spaythe seemed blind to his son’s reckless extravagance. A thoughtful man, intent upon the intricate details of his banking business and absorbed in loans, notes and discounts, interests and important matters of a like character, the banker seemed not to notice Eric’s elaborate costumes or the fact that he passed much of his spare time in association with the fast set of the village, whose rendezvous was the hotel bar. On the contrary, Mr. Spaythe seemed contented with the thought that his son and heir was connected with his business and apparently doing his work faithfully and well.

On Wednesday Mr. Boothe was suffering from a bad headache when he came to work. It soon became so much worse that Phil had to assist him to reach his home – a little cottage not far away – where the cashier lived with a maiden sister.

When Phil came back he went into the private office and reported the matter to Mr. Spaythe. The banker at once telephoned Dr. Jenkins to attend Mr. Boothe, and then in person took his cashier’s place in the teller’s “cage.”

Next day Mr. Boothe was still too ill to appear at the bank. Dr. Jenkins said it would be lucky if he managed to break up the fever, but in any event his patient could not resume his duties before the following Monday morning.

While his father was taking the cashier’s place Eric was silent and attentive to his work. But, Mr. Spaythe could ill afford to devote his entire time to the counting room, so he often called his son to assist in cashing checks and receiving deposits. Eric attended to these details so intelligently that on Friday Mr. Spaythe gave him complete charge of that important department, thus gaining for himself the liberty of devoting his attention to other pressing matters that had accumulated on his own desk.

That same afternoon, when the banker stepped into the counting room to secure a memorandum, Eric said to him:

“Wouldn’t it be a good idea, sir, to give Phil the combination of the safe? We’re behind with the books, and he’ll have to come down nights and catch up with the work – at least until Boothe gets back into harness.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Spaythe; “you may give Daring the combination. Here is an extra key to the side door, also.” Then, he turned to his youthful clerk and nodded kindly. “I’m sorry to force this extra work upon you, Phil, but Mr. Boothe’s illness leaves us very short-handed, and you may expect compensation for your extra hours.”

Phil was not only annoyed at this, but positively frightened. He had surprised a curious look upon Eric’s face when he asked his father to give Phil the secret combination of the safe. In a small establishment like Spaythe’s Bank both the books and the supply of currency were kept in the one big safe. At this juncture, when many uncomfortable suspicions were rife in his brain, Phil much preferred not to have such responsibility thrust upon him.

“I’d rather not know the combination, sir,” he ventured to say, knowing he appeared confused and embarrassed.

Mr. Spaythe was plainly surprised and gave him a hard look.

“Why not!” he asked.

“It is a – a – great responsibility, sir,” the young man explained.

“Nonsense, Daring. I trust you, fully. As fully as I do Eric or Mr. Boothe.”

“Can’t I make up the work on the books some other way – during the noon hour?”

“You’re silly, Phil,” declared Eric, sharply. “Better come down here quietly after supper and do the work in an easy and proper way. It isn’t likely to last but a night or two.”

“I think Mr. Boothe will be able to resume his duties by Monday morning,” added Mr. Spaythe; and then, as if the matter was settled, he walked into his room.

Phil resumed his work with an uneasy sense of impending misfortune. After banking hours Eric made up the teller’s account of receipts and disbursements and gave Phil a copy that he might enter the items on the books in detail. Then he counted the cash and put it away in the safe, explaining to his unwilling colleague the way to work the combination. After this Eric departed, leaving Phil alone in the bank, where he worked steadily until time for supper.

When he went home he confided to Phœbe this new complication that had arisen.

“I’m almost certain that Eric has some desperate scheme in his head,” said he. “He needs money badly to pay his gambling debts, and I’m afraid he will try to get it in such a way as to implicate me and divert suspicion from himself.”

“Why do you imagine that?” inquired his twin.

“Because he was so anxious that I should know the combination and have a key to the bank. What ought I to do, dear?”

“Your simple duty,” said Phœbe positively. “Why, Phil, no harm can possibly come to an honest fellow who does his duty! Don’t worry about Eric and his deeds. He could not injure you if he tried, and really, I don’t believe he will try. Eric has a kindly heart, and his main fault is that he has become a bit wild and reckless.”

“He’s changed a good deal lately, Phœbe,” was the quiet answer.

Phil promptly returned to the bank, let himself in by the side door, opened the safe and took out the books. For two hours he worked under the glare of the electric light, before his task was finished. No one came near to interrupt him. As he slid the big books into the compartment of the safe reserved for them he glanced at the neat piles of bills and bags of gold and an involuntary shiver of fear swept over him.

Saturday morning the bank was very busy. Eric sat in Mr. Boothe’s cage and waited upon the customers in a very business-like manner. He was so quick and accurate in handling the money, with a pleasant word for each one who approached his wicket, that when Mr. Spaythe came in now and then to see that everything was progressing properly the boy won his father’s gratified praise.

At one o’clock they closed the doors, as was usual on Saturdays, and it did not take Eric long to arrange his cash, pile it away in the safe and turn his statement of the day’s transactions over to Phil.

“What, through already?” asked his father, coming in at that moment.

“Yes, sir. Here’s the balance sheet you asked for, all made out correctly. I’m in a bit of a hurry, as I’ve arranged to go to St. Louis for over Sunday.”

Mr. Spaythe frowned.

“I did not know of this plan,” he said curtly. “Why are you making the trip, Eric?”

“To visit Ned Thurber. He has invited me to stay with him, so it will only cost me railroad fares. I’ll be back in time for work on Monday, sir,” he added carelessly.

Mr. Spaythe stood regarding his son silently for a moment. He reflected that the boy had behaved admirably these past few days, filling Mr. Boothe’s place quite effectively. The banker was also engaged with other matters that required his immediate attention. So he said:

“Very well. Go, if you wish to.”

Eric accompanied his father into the private office, merely bestowing upon Phil a nod of farewell. It was rather mean of him to take a vacation and throw all the work of bookkeeping upon young Daring, but Eric was not noted for his consideration to others.

Pausing before his father’s desk he said in a hesitating way:

“I suppose it’s all right to leave Phil in charge of the cash?”

Mr. Spaythe turned upon him, sharply.

“Why not?” he said. “The Darings are honest enough. I would have trusted his father with every penny I owned, at any time.”

“Oh, I suppose Phil’s safe,” returned Eric, carelessly. “But he’s a new clerk, and there’s a lot of currency on hand to carry over Sunday. So the thought struck me – ”

He paused, for his father was paying no attention to what he said. Instead, his practiced eye was shrewdly scanning the balance sheet. It told the amount of cash on hand in bills, gold and silver, and recorded all checks, drafts and notes deposited during the day. Finding the tally correct Mr. Spaythe laid down the paper and turned again to his son.

“I’ll trust Phil,” he said.

Eric went away, smiling to himself. “Just what I wanted,” he muttered. “The gov’nor will remember this conversation afterward.”

Passing down the street he told every acquaintance he met that he was off for St. Louis by the four o’clock train. At the station he made his journey known to the group of loungers and shouted a rather boisterous good-by when the train drew in and he boarded it. He even waved his hat from the back platform until he had passed out of sight. Among those who thus watched Eric’s departure was Donald Daring, who announced the fact at supper that Eric Spaythe had gone to St. Louis by the four o’clock train.

“Must you work at those dreadful books to-night, Phil?” asked Phœbe.

“Only for an hour or so, dear. I put in such steady work this afternoon that a little more will get things in shape.”

“I’ll go down with you, then, and keep you company,” she announced.

As they walked along the street together in the cool of early evening Phil was very thoughtful. Finally, he said to the girl:

“I don’t believe Eric has gone to St. Louis, Phœbe.”

“Why, he must have gone!” she exclaimed. “Don saw him on board the train.”