Bob Hendricks found that tear-stained letter half finished in the desk when he came home, and he kept it locked up for years.

And when he discovered that the date on the letter and the date on the forged note were the same, the son knew the meaning of the tears.

But it was all for the Larger Good, and so John Barclay won another game with Destiny.
But the silver cord was straining, and morning after morning the old pitcher went to the fountain, to be battered and battered and battered.

His books, which he kept himself, grew spotted and dirty, and day by day in the early spring the general dreaded lest some depositor would come into the bank and call for a sum in cash so large that it would take the cash supply below the legal limit, and that an inspector would suddenly appear again and discover the deficiency.
Except Barclay the other directors knew nothing of the situation.

They signed whatever reports the general or Barclay put before them; there came a time in April when any three of a dozen depositors could have taken every penny out of the bank.