The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1911-03-03
He Turns Amateur Detective

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By CLANSSA MAcKE {
Copyright by American Press Asso- }
citation, 1911. !
Henry Ord lighted another cigar and
waited i~mpatiently for the reappear-
ance Of his chief clerk. Every three
minutes he consulted his watch and
compared it with the electric time
piece on the wall between the win
dows. He had an important engage
ment at IL O'clock, and it was now
1890. smithers was getting more
stupid every day.
He brought his feet down from the
desk with a thump as the secretary
returned with a worried expression on
his long, pale face. Mr.. Ord reached
for his hat and held out his hand.
"Give me the securities, Smithers,"
he said.
s" can't find them, Mr.. Ord" said
the clerk d%ifidently. II thought per-
haps you might have them in here"
"Here!' snorted MI. Ord inpatient
~. eff 1 had them in here why did 1
send you to the vaults after them"
II have looked everywhere, sir.
They are not in the vaults nor any
other place in the Office. l will ques-
tom
"No need to question anybody" cut
in Mr.. Ord, sinking back in his chair
and tossing his hat into the ticker
basket. IT gave you those securities
day before yesterday, with instruc-
lions to lock them in my private box
in the vaults. You returned the key
to me then, and I have just handed 1t
to you now. I haven't had occasion
to go to the box since Thursday. Now,
where are those securities"
II don't know, sir" returned Smith
ers respectfully.
"Give me the key to the box. Now
come with me and show me where
you placed them"
Drawers snapped open, papers rus
tied, and Mr.. Ord's boot heels raped
out on the metal flooring as he went
from shelf to shelf, from box to draw
er and from drawer to cupboard.
Once more he opened his own pri-
vate box and ran over the papers con-
tanned therein.
"Where the dickens are they?" he
demanded savagely when his last eff
forts proved in vain.
81 really don't know, SIR" replied
Smithers. Gas l said before, I thought
it possible that you might have taken
them out, and it slipped your mind
that you had done So"
"Huh! Perhaps you took them out
yourself and it slipped your mind, eh?
Ever forget anything, Smithers"
"Not very often, sir"
Smithers faithfully followed his en-
ployer back to the private Office and
folded his long thin arms behind his
back preparatory to listening to the
lecture that he knew Mr.. Ord had in
store. And this time-well, those L.
d. bonds were worth $4,000 today,
and it was known that tomorrow they
might not be worth the paper they
were written on b~ecause-but that has
nothing to do with this story.
please call up Hughes & Carraway,
and tell Mr.. Hughes / shall be unable
to keep that engagement with him. I
will talk with him later on the phone.
Now, Smithers, this is the third time
this has happened-securities have dis.
appeared in this same way during sew
eral days until the market interest In
them has abated. It's an old gag and
won't work again. Now, who do you
think is at the bottom of this?"
smithers fdgeted %nervously and
looked out of the window at the blank
wall of another building. REALLY, Mr..
Ord, l haven't formed an opinion" he
said, rather mincingly.
Haven't, Ell? Well, l have" thun-
dcred his employer, fixing the chief
clerk with a hard stare.
Smithers jumped nervously. I'm
deed, sir" he said.
Eyes, indeed, MI. Smithers. I'm go
ing to ferret this mystery out before.
2 o'clock. See! This Office is the
worst managed affair in the city Of
New York, and you are the most In
emcient chief clerk I ever employed.
Got that?"
Eyes, sir.
"See that row Of books on theBhelf"
MI. Ord pointed his ruler at a narrow
shelf laden with cloth bound copies Of
Conan Doyle's books.
Smithers bowed respectfully.
Detective stories. every n Of 'em.
I've read 'em all" said Mr.. Ord. !
shall solve the mystery Of the dis
appearance Of those securities BY the
same methods a. those employed By
that noted detective" went on Mr..
Ord, forgetting In his excitement to
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