Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 157, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 July 1918 — WHERE THE MONEY WENT [ARTICLE]

WHERE THE MONEY WENT

By GEORGE MUNSON.

(Copyright, 1915, oy W. G. Chapman.) “I believe in you, Jim,” Myra had said, and she was the only member of the bank staff that did. The situation was this: Jim Fleming’s accounts were three thousand dollars short at the end of the day. Three bills of the denomination of a thousand dollars apiece were missing. Fleming said that he had put them in the drawer. But they were not in the drawer, and could not be found. The president accepted Fleming’s explanation. Fleming retained his position in the bank as assistant paying teller. He was earning seven hundred and fifty a year. Jini not only retained his position but was promoted to be paying teller the second year—still at seven hundred and fifty. Ordinarily the position would, have started at twelve hundred and fifty. Then Myra, the manager’s stenographer, and Jim could have got married. Now marriage was impossible. The fellows in the bank grinned and wondered where Jim had “salted” the money away. Old Moss, the president, was as hard as nails. He never let up On a man. He had seen at once Fleming’s idea and determined to checkmate the man whom he regarded as a brazen thief. Out of his own pocket he paid the hire of the detectives for the first sixmonths, but at the annual meeting it was decided to spend the money which would normally have gone to Jim’s salary in having him watched. Year after year the watch kept up. Jim knew about it. It was impossible for him not to know. “With that fellow’s genius for secrecy he would make a first-rate politician or criminal,” said old Moss grimly, at the second annual meeting of the directors. “Talent misapplied,” growled the manager. “My stenographer is still engaged to him.” “She’ll be too old to marry him before he gets a .raise,” growled Moss. “And if they do marry, we’ll know where the money comes from.” Five, six, seven years passed. The detectives were less obtrusive now, but they still followed Jim Fleming. He waa still liable to return home to find that someone had tampered with his desk or trunk. “Jim, dear, I have saved up a thousand dollars,” said Myra one day. “Let us be married anyway.” He shook his head grimly. He would not marry her until the bank had officially pronounced the stain upon his character wiped away. He had often urged Myra to release him. “I’ll stand by you till the end, dear,” she answered.

By this time the directors had come to waver in their opinion of Jim. Traps had been laid for him, opportunities placed in his way. He evaded them or did not seem" to recognize them. He still remained paying teller. His salary should have been seventeen hundred and fifty. The bank was making a thousand a year out of him. Half that money went to the detective agency, but still Jim had almost made up the missing money. The town was growing. At last it was decided to build a new bank. It had outgrown its limited premises. A magnificent structure of marble was going up. New desks and counters had already been installed, and on the day when the papers and money were removed the old fixtures would be turned over to the junk man. Everything was ready at last. The manager was superintending the removal of the money. Old Moss stood grimly by, watching the ceremony. Jim opened his drawer, which he had pulled out and closed so many-thou-sands of times during the course of his service in the bank. He took out the bills and packages of coins and handed them to the manager, who counted them and placed them in the safe, which stood in the main office, ready for removal. ,

The drawer had stuck —for the first time in all those years. Jim pulled it out half way. It would come out no farther. - Moss, seeing him tugging, strolled up. The manager was looking at him. From her seat at her typewriter, Jim saw Myra looking at him. He tugged and tugged, and the drawer would not budge. Suddenly he was lying upon his back, with the empty, broken drawer upon his chest, and the old counter broken into half a dozen pieces. Suddenly the manager uttered an ex-‘ clamation and stooped down. From a crevice he extracted three —three brand new thousand dollar bills. He held them up significantly. Moss came forward. Jim got up and stood staring at them speechlessly. Then, witl) a cry, Myra ran from her place and flung her arms round Jim and stbod facing them all with love and defiance upon her face. It was easy to see what had happened. The three bills had slipped back when the drawer was opened, and had lodged at the back in a crevice of the counter. Jim’s hands must have wandered above them a score of times a day, and he had never guessed. Jim felt them clap him on the back. Moss took his hands in his. “Jim," he gulped, “I want to speak to you as soon as I can see you, about —about your salary." Jim hardly heard. He was looking into Myra's eyes, and they both wanted desperately to apeak to each other just then—about a home.