The independent-reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1909-1955, 1911-03-09
The Great
Mr.. Ord
lie Turns Amateur Detective
By CLARSSA MAcKIE

Henry Ord lighted another cigar and
waited impatently for the reappear-
ance of his chief clerk. Every three
minutes he consulted his watch and
compared 1t with the electric time
piece on the wall between the win
dows He had an important engage
ment at II o'clock. and 1t was now
1890 smlthers 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, Smlthers.'
be said
Il can't find them. Mr.. Ord said
the clerk dihidently. II thought per-
haps you might have them in here"
Here snorted Mr. Ord impatient
ly. If | had them in here why did l
send you TO the vaults after themY
Il have looked everywhere. sir.
They are not in the vaults nor any
other place in the office. will ques-
tom
mo need to question anybody" cut
In Mr.. Ord. sinking back in his chair
and tossing his hat into the ticker
basket Il gave you those securities
day before yesterday, With instruc-
tons to lock them In my private box
In the vaults. You returned the key
to me then. and have just handed 1t
to you now. / 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.. Ords boot heels raped
out on the metal flooring as be 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 theyf" he
demanded savagely when his last eff
forts proved In vain.
Il really don't know, SIR" replied
Smithers. "As l said before. l thought
1t possible that you might have taken
them out, and 1t slipped your mind
that you had done So"
Huh! Perhaps you took them out
yourself and it slipped your mind, eh 2
Ever forget anything, Smithersp
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 because-but that has
nothing to do with this Story.
please call up Hughes & Carraway,
and tell Mr.. Hughes l shall be unable
to keep that engagement with him.
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 fidgeted nervously and
looked out of the window at the blank
wall of another building. Really, Mr.
Ord, | haven't formed an opinion" he
said, rather mincingly.
Haven't. eh? Well, l have" thun-
dered his employer, fixing the chief
clerk with q hard stare.
Smithers jumped nervously. I'm
deed, sir!" he said.
"Yes, indeed, Mr.. 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
efficient chief clerk l ever employed.
Got thatY
Eyes, SIR"
"See that row of books on the shelf"
Mr.. Ord pointed his ruler at narrow
shelf laden with cloth bound copies of
Conan Doyle's books.
Smithers bowed respectfully.
Detective stories. every one 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 as those employed by
that noted detective" went ON Mr..
Ord. forgetting In his excitement to
compare his watch with the timepiece
on the wall. His searching glance
fell on an advertising blotter that lay
on his desk. 1t had become mixed In
his personal mail. and he had not toss
cd it in the waste paper basket until
now. He threw 1t in and crossed his
hands on his plump waistcoat.
do you wear plasters. Mr.. Smith
srs" he asked coolly.
The chief clerk stared at, this per-
sonal question. fred SO abruptly from
the lips of the great Mr.. Ord-great
In the financial district.
Sometimes" he said guardedly.
Have you one on nowT snapped
Mr.. Ord.
Yes, sir" blushed Smithers.
Mr.. Ord smiled with satisfaction.
"Mr. Smithers. sir, you have been with