"I will not betray Mr. Franklin's confidence in me. Positively, I will
not," said the young man. "He's sick, and that would make it worse."
"How sick is he?"
"He is very, very ill. It was an operation, and he has had a relapse.
But we hope he's coming out all right."
"What hospital is he in?"
Boyne gave the name.
"I think I'll call up and ask when it is expected that he can see
visitors," announced Fogg, with business briskness. "I wish Franklin had
been here on deck--Franklin, himself."
"I don't believe Mr. Franklin would turn a trick of this sort," asserted
the clerk. "I'd hate to face him, after doing it myself."
"Franklin would be able to see further into a financial deal than a
young chap," said Mr. Fogg, severely, and then he found his number and
made his call. "Good heavens!" he blurted, after a question. "I am in
his office. Yes, I'll tell Boyne."
With a fine affectation of grief and surprise, he snapped the
transmitter upon the hook and whirled on Boyne. His back had been toward
the young man--he had spoken with hand across the receiver.
"He has just died--he's dead! Franklin has passed away."
"I would have been notified," gasped Boyne.
"They were just going to call you. You heard me say I'd inform you."
"But I must call the hospital--offer my services. I must go up there."
Mr. Fogg put out his hand and pressed the young man back into his chair.
"A lulu must be played quick and the pot raked sudden," he reflected.
"Just a moment, my son. Now you're standing on your own bottom. You
won't have to explain to Mr. Franklin."
He pointed to the clock. His stories had consumed time. The hour was
ten-thirty-five.
"That annual meeting of the Vose line was called for ten of the clock
to-day. Mr. Franklin was alive at that hour. He was the clerk of that
corporation. What happens now will not embarrass you so far as he's
concerned. Be sensible. Make a stroke for yourself. You're out of a job,
anyway. Go to it, now."
Fogg spoke sharply, imperiously. He exerted over the young man all the
force of his personality.
"Five thousand dollars--protected by my interests--slipped out of sight
for a few months--it's easy. Sit down there and make up your records;
vote those proxies. Vote 'em, I say. This meeting was held at ten
o'clock. Make up your records."