"
Late one April, Riley went very sick indeed. The doctor punched him and
thumped him, and told him he would be better before long. Then the doctor went
to Reggie and said:--"Do you know how sick your Accountant is?" "No!" said
Reggie--"The worse the better, confound him! He's a clacking nuisance when
he's well. I'll let you take away the Bank Safe if you can drug him silent for
this hot-weather."
But the doctor did not laugh--"Man, I'm not joking," he said. "I'll give him
another three months in his bed and a week or so more to die in. On my honor
and reputation that's all the grace he has in this world. Consumption has hold
of him to the marrow."
Reggie's face changed at once into the face of "Mr. Reginald Burke," and he
answered:--"What can I do?"
"Nothing," said the doctor. "For all practical purposes the man is dead
already. Keep him quiet and cheerful and tell him he's going to recover.
That's all. I'll look after him to the end, of course."
The doctor went away, and Reggie sat down to open the evening mail.
His first letter was one from the Directors, intimating for his information
that Mr. Riley was to resign, under a month's notice, by the terms of his
agreement, telling Reggie that their letter to Riley would follow and advising
Reggie of the coming of a new Accountant, a man whom Reggie knew and liked.
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