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Page 15
"And that--desk, is it?"
"Yes, sir."
"And the sign outside, and opened for business?"
"There was no one else on hand. I felt that I must represent my father,
Mr. Stirling, who is the authorized agent here, until the seriousness of
his condition was known. You see, there was business likely to come in,
and I have been here to attend to it."
"Just so," vouchsafed his visitor. "No out shipments to-day, I believe?"
"No, it's a holiday, but there was some rush in stuff on the morning
express."
"Where is it?"
"I have delivered most of it--the balance, two freezers of ice cream, I
will attend to this afternoon. I am keeping a record and taking
receipts, but giving none--I didn't feel warranted in that until I heard
from the company."
"You have done very well, young man," said the stranger. "I am Robert
Leslie, the superintendent, as I told you. Do you mean to say you rigged
things up in this shape and got your deliveries out alone?"
"There was no one to help me," remarked Bart.
He felt pleased and encouraged, for the superintendent's cast-iron
visage had softened considerably, and he manifested unmistakable
interest as he reached out and took up and inspected the neatly
formulated memoranda on the packing-box desk.
"What's this?" he inquired, running over the pages Bart had last been
working on.
"That is a list of losers by the fire," explained Bart.
"This is from memory?"
"Yes, Mr. Leslie--but I have a good one, and I think the list is
tolerably correct."
"I am very much pleased," admitted the superintendent--"those claims are
our main anxiety in a case like this. I understand the contents of the
safe were destroyed."
"I fear so," assented Bart gravely. "The explosion was so sudden, and my
father was blinded, so there was no opportunity to close it. I tried to
reach it after rescuing him, but the flames drove me back."
Mr. Leslie was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be thinking. His
glance roamed speculatively about the place, taking in the layout
critically, then finally Bart was conscious that his shrewd, burrowing
eyes were scanning him closely.
"How old are you, Stirling?" asked the superintendent abruptly.
"Nearly nineteen."
"I suppose you know something about the routine here?"
"I have helped my father a little for the past month or two--yes, sir."
"And have improved your opportunities, judging from the common-sense way
you have got things into temporary running order," commented Leslie.
The speaker took out his watch. Then, glancing through the doorway, he
arose suddenly, with the words:
"Ah! there he is, now. I suppose you couldn't be here about four o'clock
this afternoon?"
"Why, certainly," answered Bart promptly. "People are likely to be
around making inquiries, and I have a delivery to make this afternoon,
as I told you, sir."
"I intend to see your father," said Mr. Leslie, "and I want to get back
to the city to-night. I may have some orders for you, so we'll call it
four, sharp."
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