PETER

A Novel Of Which He Is Not the Hero

BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH





PETER





CHAPTER I




Peter was still poring over his ledger one dark afternoon in
December, his bald head glistening like a huge ostrich egg under
the flare of the overhead gas jets, when Patrick, the night
watchman, catching sight of my face peering through the outer
grating, opened the door of the Bank.

The sight so late in the day was an unusual one, for in all the
years that I have called at the Bank--ten, now--no, eleven since
we first knew each other--Peter had seldom failed to be ready for