There was every reason in the world why it should be news to him. He
had neither seen nor heard from Force since that Christmas morning
ultimatum. Purposely Mr. Bingle had stayed away from the bank, where,
as its first vice-president, he was wont to spend much of his time
looking after the comfort and advancement of the bookkeepers and
clerks. He never overlooked an opportunity to help his old comrades in
the "galleys." The board of directors were compelled to fight him
constantly in order to keep him from putting through his plan to raise
all wages, and there came near to being a catastrophe when they voted
down his ridiculous scheme for providing fresh air for the lungs of
the workers in the "pen." He made certain comparisons in which Russia
was frequently mentioned and three or four of the directors afterwards
referred to him as an "undignified little ass."

But now he hesitated about going to the bank. Somehow, he could not
quite bring himself to the point of encountering the president of the
bank in his capacity as head of the great and reputable concern. Never
again would he be able to look upon Sydney Force as the right man for
the place. He could only think of him as "a man called Hinman." Being
a charitable soul, however, he stood ready to overlook much that was
obnoxious in the character of the man if the time ever came when he
openly revealed a contrite heart and a disposition to make amends in
the proper way.

"To be gone for three months, I hear," said Flanders, looking at his
watch. "I say, Mr. Bingle, doesn't it seem to you that the afternoon
lessons are a little longer than usual? It's five o'clock. I have to
be back in town before half-past six."