They did so, and Dick no longer wondered how Bethune, who ostentatiously
declined to let his work interfere with his comfort, held his post. The
man thought in numbers, using the figures, as one used words, to express
his knowledge rather than as a means of obtaining it by calculation. Dick
imagined this was genius.
"Well," said Stuyvesant, "I guess we had better send for the storekeeper
next."
"Get it over," agreed Bethune. "It's an unpleasant job."
Dick sent a half-naked peon to look for the man, and was sensible of some
nervous strain as he waited for his return. He hated the task he had
undertaken, but it must be carried out. Bethune, who had at first tried
to discourage him, now looked interested, and Dick saw that Stuyvesant
was resolute. In the meanwhile, the shed had grown suffocatingly hot, his
face and hands were wet with perspiration, and the rumble of machinery
made his head ache. He lighted a cigarette, but the tobacco tasted bitter
and he threw it away. Then there were footsteps outside and Stuyvesant
turned to him.
"We leave you to put the thing through. You're prosecutor."
Dick braced himself as a man came in and stood by the table, looking at
the others suspiciously. He was an American, but his face was heavy and
rather sullen, and his white clothes were smeared with dust.
"We have been examining your stock-book," said Dick. "It's badly kept."
The fellow gave him a quick glance. "Mr. Fuller knows I'm not smart at
figuring, and if you want the books neat, you'll have to get me a better
clerk. Anyhow, I've my own tally and allow I can tell you what stuff I
get and where it goes."
"That is satisfactory. Look at this list and tell me where the cement
you're short of has gone."
"Into the mixing shed, I guess," said the other with a half-defiant
frown.
"Then it didn't come out. We haven't got the concrete at the dam. Are
there any full bags not accounted for in the shed?"
"No, sir. You ought to know the bags are skipped right into the tank as
the mill grinds up the mush."
"Very well. Perhaps you'd better consult your private tally and see if it
throws any light upon the matter."
The man took out a note-book and while he studied it Bethune asked, "Will
you let me have the book?"
"I guess not," said the other, who shut the book with a snap, and then
turned and confronted Dick.
"I want to know why you're getting after me!"
"It's fairly plain. You're responsible for the stores and can't tell us
what has become of a quantity of the goods."
"Suppose I own up that my tally's got mixed?"
"Then you'd show yourself unfit for your job; but that is not the worst.
If you had made a mistake the bags wouldn't vanish. You had the cement,
it isn't in the store and hasn't reached us in the form of concrete. It
must have gone somewhere."