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It had been his chief thought ever since his connection with the missing bond had been discovered. Sheilah must never know.

'You won't tell my wife, will you?' he had begged, three days ago, when he had been summoned into Mr. Fairchild's private office. 'Do anything to me. I don't care. I don't count. But, oh, please don't let her know.'

Mr. Fairchild had gazed with sickening pity upon Felix. He hadn't even suspected him in connection with the missing bond until the afternoon before. He had known the bond was missing. He had known it for over a year. The lawyer who made out his tax-returns had informed him last January. Mr. Fairchild had told the lawyer it would probably turn up somewhere, in some corner in his desk, or at home in a forgotten drawer. The lawyer, however, reported the missing bond and one day, after long watching, from out of a cloudless sky, there appeared a homing coupon. Within a few days after its return the bond had been traced to the Jew who had sold Felix his Ford a year and a half ago.

Mr. Fairchild had looked very grave when he was told the facts, and as soon as he was alone, he had pressed a button and sent for Felix. There would be some explanation, surely. But Felix had simply bowed his head, and before Mr. Fairchild had