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Computer Accounting With Peachtree by Sage Complete Accounting 2012 16th Edition Yacht Solutions Manual 1
Computer Accounting With Peachtree by Sage Complete Accounting 2012 16th Edition Yacht Solutions Manual 1
CHAPTER 5
GENERAL LEDGER, INVENTORY, AND INTERNAL CONTROL
In Chapter 5, your students learn how to use the General Ledger Chart of
Accounts. When a company is set up, the following initial steps are
performed: set up a chart of accounts and enter beginning balances or
budget amounts. In this chapter, students look at the sample company,
Bellwether Garden Supply. In Parts 2 and 3 of the textbook (Chapters 9-
17 and Projects 1 through 4A), students have an opportunity to set up 11
companies from scratch.
This chapter also shows your students how to use Peachtree's Inventory
system.
LEARNING OBJECTIVES
1. Restore data from Exercise 4-2. (This backup was made on textbook
page 162.)
2. Enter a new account in the Chart of Accounts.
9. Make two backups, save one Excel file, and save one PDF file.
The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc., Computer Accounting with Peachtree by Sage Complete Accounting 2012, 16e
73 - IMK
74 - IMK
General
Chapter
Ledger,
5 Inventory, and Internal Control 74 - IMK
The Audit Trail Report is a way for instructors to check the integrity of
individual student records. Use the Audit Trail Report to make sure that
The McGraw-Hill
The McGraw-Hill
Companies,
Companies,
Inc., Computer
Inc., Computer
Accounting
Accounting
with Peachtree
with Peachtree
by Sage
by Sage
Complete
Complete
Accounting
Accounting
2012,2012,
16e 16e
75 - IMK
General
Chapter
Ledger,
5 Inventory, and Internal Control 75 - IMK
the student turning in the work is the one whose name appears on the
Maintain Employees row. If two or more Audit Trail Reports have the
same name, date and time, you probably have a paper trail to students
sharing backup files. You may want students to turn in their Chapter
5.ptb file so that you can restore that file and check the Audit Trail
Report. Another way to do this is to have the student restore the
Chapter 5.ptb file in the computer lab, then display the Jan 1 2006
through Dec 31, 2012 Audit Trail report to check the name, date, and
time next to Maintain Employees.
The McGraw-Hill
The McGraw-Hill
Companies,
Companies,
Inc., Computer
Inc., Computer
Accounting
Accounting
with Peachtree
with Peachtree
by Sage
by Sage
Complete
Complete
Accounting
Accounting
2012,2012,
16e 16e
76 - IMK
General
Chapter
Ledger,
5 Inventory, and Internal Control 76 - IMK
Read the Bookkeeping and Accounting Basics article. (Hint: If this article
is no longer available, link to another area from the Nolo.com website and
write a brief essay—no more than 125 words—describing the link.)
1. List the three steps for keeping your small business accounting
records.
The McGraw-Hill
The McGraw-Hill
Companies,
Companies,
Inc., Computer
Inc., Computer
Accounting
Accounting
with Peachtree
with Peachtree
by Sage
by Sage
Complete
Complete
Accounting
Accounting
2012,2012,
16e 16e
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hesitate to squeeze through it.
Beyond the wall sure enough lay freedom, for he felt the cool night air
on his cheeks and found himself in a cramped back yard.
Out of durance at last, Carter breathed a prayer of thankfulness and filled
up the hole.
He stood for some little time in the yard, and then cleared the fence
which stood between him and the street.
Half an hour later he might have been seen to enter Bristol Clara’s house.
The woman uttered a cry as she saw him, and pulled him forward.
“Thank Heaven!” she cried; “but why didn’t you come sooner?”
“I couldn’t. Circumstances prevented,” said the detective, with a grim
smile, which Bristol Clara did not understand.
“What’s happened, girl?”
“Murder!”
“Where?”
“There!”
The woman pointed across the room toward the next house and looked at
Carter.
“Who committed it?” he asked.
“Claude Lamont.”
“Then they’re even,” was the detective’s answer.
Clara did not reply, but led the detective to the peephole, and bade him
look.
The room beyond the partition was dimly lighted, but he could see its
appointments and single tenant.
A man was stretched on the floor, silent and still.
“That’s the victim,” said the woman at his side.
“Who is he?”
“Perry Lamont.”
“And you say Claude did it? His son?”
“His son. I saw the whole affair.”
“Tell me all about it, Clara.”
Bristol Clara did so, and the detective listened without once interrupting
the woman.
“I must see the man yonder,” said Nick.
“That’s easy. The house is tenanted only by the dead. You can easily get
inside.”
It did not take Carter long to reach the room where Perry Lamont lay.
He raised the man’s head and saw the dark spot made by the murderous
paper weight; then he lowered it again to the floor.
He searched the room thoroughly, and found more than one thing which
told him that it had been one of Claude Lamont’s nests.
At last he rejoined Clara in the other house.
“Now for the round-up,” said he.
The woman looked at him, but did not speak.
“You once asked me who killed Mother Flintstone,” said Nick.
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do. You find out all these things. I never doubted that
you would reach the end of this trail.”
“Well, woman, I can tell you now.”
Bristol Clara leaned forward, and Carter whispered a word into her ear.
“My God! you don’t mean that?” cried the woman, as she recoiled, with
very little color in her face.
“Every word of it.”
“It cannot be.”
“It is true.”
“Then go and do your duty;” said she. “Don’t let the guilty escape, Mr.
Carter.”
“I don’t intend to. I’ll see you later, Clara. Only keep a watch over the
man in yonder. The murderer may come back. Perhaps it was self-
defense, but he isn’t remorseful. It is murder all the same.”
The detective made his way from the house and to another part of the
city. He had found in the desk a bit of paper, with a scrawled address
thereon.
It was a certain number in Brooklyn, and inside the hour the detective
was across the river.
It did not take him very long to reach the house, which he found
darkened and silent, but his ring brought footsteps downstairs and to the
door.
As the portal opened Carter caught sight of an old man’s face, and he
addressed him.
“I desire to see Mr. Holden, your roomer.”
“He’s sound asleep, sir.”
“I must see him all the same. Which room does he occupy?”
The detective pushed forward, with one hand on the old man’s arm, and
the old fellow seemed to suspect the truth.
“Don’t disturb my wife. She’s sick upstairs. You shall see Mr. Holden. I
hope he isn’t a fugitive from justice, sir?”
There was no answer by the detective, for the old man opened a door and
motioned Nick across another threshold.
As Carter entered the room a human figure sprang from a bed and stood
on the carpet before him.
“How are you?” said the detective.
The reply he got was a snort like a sound from a restive tiger, and George
Richmond, brought to bay, threw a swift glance toward the door.
“What’s wanting?” he demanded.
“I want you.”
“What for?”
“For conspiracy.”
The man before Carter seemed to catch his breath.
It was not so bad after all.
In fact, a grim smile appeared at the corners of his mouth and his look
softened.
“Who are you?” he next asked.
“Come, you know me, George,” said the detective. “I’m not disguised.”
“Well, here I am.”
The half-dressed man stepped forward, but the moment Carter advanced
a step he picked up a chair and with the fury of a maniac threw it above
his head.
The old landlord behind the detective uttered a terrified cry and retreated,
and as he held the only light there was, the room was wrapped in
darkness.
Carter struck a match, and at the same time thrust forward his revolver.
But the match revealed nothing.
George Richmond was gone!
For half a minute Carter stood like a person in a dream, but a sudden cry
from the old man aroused him.
“He’s crept under the bed, sir,” was the cry.
With a light laugh Carter sprang forward and caught hold of the foot he
found.
The next moment a bullet whizzed past his head and then he dragged the
rascal forth.
Lying on the floor, handcuffed, George Richmond looked up into
Carter’s face and grinned.
“For conspiracy, eh?” he said. “That’s news to me.”
“It’s better for that than murder,” was the answer, and then Carter took
his prisoner away.
“Now for the other birds,” said the detective, as he turned from the
station house.
He proceeded uptown and, late as it was, rang the bell of the Lamont
mansion.
For some time no one answered him, and then he heard footsteps inside.
“It’s Opal herself,” thought Carter, as he waited for the door to open.
Yes, it was the handsome daughter of the dead millionaire, and she
maintained her composure as she looked into the detective’s face.
“It’s a late call, miss,” said Carter, as he stepped inside. “But it is a case
of necessity. I’ve found your father.”
“Indeed?”
How terribly cool this girl was.
“Yes; he’s been found and will be home shortly.”
“That’s clever of you. I did not know you were looking for him. He went
off a little unexpectedly, you see——”
“I understand. He is dead——”
“Father dead?”
It was a real start now, but in a moment Opal regained her composure.
“Miss Lamont, did you ever know a man named Lewis Newell?”
She fell back and seemed to gasp for breath.
“Lewis Newell?” she echoed, trying to become calm again. “I don’t
know that I ever knew such a man.”
“You did not decoy him to a dungeon? You did not coolly let him perish
there? I’ve read his last words on the wall, miss. I know that that is not
your only crime!”
“It is false!”
She looked defiant and her eyes flashed.
“There’s another, miss,” continued Carter.
“You dare not say that again.”
“I say it again. There’s another crime. It is the greatest one of all.”
“What is it, pray?”
“The murder of Mother Flintstone!”
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
JUSTICE’S ROUND-UP.
Opal Lamont seemed to grow into a statue before the detective.
She did not move a muscle, but her face grew white, and the detective
thought she would sink to the floor.
But suddenly she started up and calmly invited Carter into the parlor.
The detective accepted and watched her like a hawk, for had not she
once faced him with a revolver, and was not this the woman named by
“Lewis Newell” on the wall of the dungeon?
Opal Lamont seemed calm now.
She faced the man of many trails and even smiled.
“The murder of Mother Flintstone?” she said, recalling the detective’s
words in the hall. “You accuse me of that, do you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see your proofs, please.”
Carter dived one hand into his bosom and drew forth a little packet, upon
which the eyes of Opal Lamont were riveted from the first.
He had never shown this to any one.
No one knew that he found it in an obscure corner of Mother Flintstone’s
den the night he went thither with Mulberry Billy, the street waif, and the
old woman’s “chum.”
Opal leaned forward and watched the hands of the detective open the
packet.
She never took her eyes from the “find,” and when the last bit of
covering had been taken off she appeared to grow white.
One-half of a ring lay in Carter’s hand, and he glanced from it to the
immobile face of the millionaire’s daughter.
“You found that in the house, I suppose?” asked Opal.
“Yes; in the darkest corner, not far from the spot where you struck the
blow.”
“Is that all?”
“Not quite.”
“You need not go on. Look at me, Mr. Carter. It was for the honor of this
house. She was wicked.”
“She was your father’s sister!”
“She made a bad match. She was disowned, or, rather, she disinherited
herself.”
“But that was no excuse for the crime.”
“She might have paraded the relationship before the world,” cried Opal.
“She was positively dangerous. She was a perpetual menace. It was
dreadful.”
“You took it upon yourself to put her out of the way. You went to the
house——”
“To silence her tongue!” broke in Opal Lamont. “Murder was not in my
mind at first. But she taunted me; she laughed at me when I offered to
make her rich. She even threatened to appear in public and boast of the
kinship. That was more than I could stand.”
“You struck her then?”
“I did. I broke the ring with the blow. I did not miss it till I came home.
The other half strangely clung to my finger till I reached this house. I
thought I had lost the rest on the street.”
“You nearly involved others in that crime.”
“How’s that?”
“Your brother was for a time suspected of the murder, and then his chum,
George Richmond.”
“Did it deceive you?”
“For a time. I traced out the ownership of the ring. I did it with the
utmost secrecy. But a short time ago I half believed that one of them was
the guilty person, but I am undeceived now.”
A haughty smile came to the girl’s lips.
She made an impatient gesture and then said:
“Let us dismiss these things. We can come back to them, you know. You
said a while ago that father was dead.”
“He is.”
“Where is he?”
“In one of the many houses he owned.”
“I thought he would take his life in his madness. He would have given
his wealth for the keeping of the secret of the kinship. How did he do it?”
For a moment Carter was silent.
“It was not suicide,” said he, looking at Opal. “It was the greater crime—
murder!”
She started like one electrified.
“Another murder? I want to see him avenged, even if I have hands that
are red! I want you to take the trail of his slayer. You will do this, Mr.
Carter? You won’t refuse to become the servant of your human quarry?”
“It is no mystery,” was the reply. “The murder of your father is not a
puzzle!”
“Then you know——”
“I know, for I have a living witness.”
Opal was silent; but her deep eyes seemed to pierce the detective through
and through.
“I’m calm now. Name him.”
At this moment the front door opened and some one came in.
“It is Claude, my brother,” said the girl, scarcely above a whisper. “Wait
a minute. He may go upstairs.”
Carter looked toward the door and seemed to smile.
“Call him in here. His coming will answer the question you have just
put.”
Opal sprang across the carpet and opened the door, revealing the figure
of Claude in the main hall.
“This way, Claude,” said she. “A gentleman wants to see you.”
It was a lightning glance that passed from the hallway to the man in the
parlor.
Claude Lamont knew the detective at once.
He hesitated, but Opal clutched his sleeve and pulled him forward by
main force.
“You know this man. It is the trailer,” she said.
A dark scowl came to the young man’s face.
“I know him!” he almost hissed.
The next instant the daughter turned again to Carter and exclaimed:
“Now, go on. You said you knew who killed father. Name the murderer.”
The hand of the detective was raised as his figure straightened, and in a
second it covered the young man before him.
“There’s the man!” was all he said.
Though he spoke in low tones the words seemed to ring throughout the
handsome parlor.
Claude Lamont grew white and Opal fell back.
Suddenly, however, she started forward and paused in front of her
speechless brother.
“Is it true?” she cried.
There was no answer.
“You must speak! You must tell the truth. My hands are red and yours
seem to be! You have heard this merciless trailer. He says you are a
parricide! Is it true? Before Heaven, answer me, Claude Lamont!”
The lips of the young sport moved, but no words issued forth.
He seemed to have been struck with palsy.
“You heard me, murderer!” cried Opal, flinging herself upon her brother.
“You must not stand there like a log and say nothing. You shall tell the
truth. You did it.”
Claude flung her off and she nearly toppled against the mahogany table.
“I did it, and under the circumstances I would do it again!” he exclaimed.
“He was coming at me like a wild beast, and I had to fight or perish.”
“Swear this!” cried the girl.
Claude raised one hand above his head.
“Where did you find him?”
“On the street.”
“But you did not bring him home?”
“I did not. I took him to one of our houses——”
“And killed him there? Murderer!”
That instant, with the fury of a madman, Claude turned upon his sister
and covered her white face with his quivering hand.
“Murderer, eh? What are you? Don’t you know that the curse of blood
has been upon this house for years? The curse of blood and money!
Nearly a century ago one of your ancestors murdered his bride, and ever
since the stain has been upon the house. It has skipped a few generations,
but it is with us now. Richmond and I have kept your red secret. We
know who killed Mother Flintstone. Does the detective know?”
“He knows,” calmly answered Opal.
“And does he know that the girl called Margie Marne is the grandchild
of Mother Flintstone?”
Nick nodded.
“That’s all.”
Claude Lamont turned and stalked coolly from the room.
At the door he stopped and looked back.
“I’ll be on hand when wanted,” he said. “It was self-defense. I had to
take the old man’s life.”
Carter and Opal heard him on the stairs, and in a few moments they
heard a door shut overhead.
Long before morning a policeman stood guard over the dead
millionaire’s mansion.
The night passed slowly.
New York was getting ready to awake to the solution of another murder
mystery and another crime.
The detective was making the last move in the office of the chief of
police, who had listened to the story of his last trail.
George Richmond lay in the station-house cell fast asleep, just as if he
had never been concerned in the plot to rob Perry Lamont, the
millionaire, with the aid of his scapegrace son.
The morning broke.
Carter went to the Lamont mansion.
Upon parting the night before Opal had pledged her honor that she would
greet him when he came again.
He entered the house, speaking first to the guardian at the door, who
assured him that all was well, and then he entered the parlor.
He rang the silver call bell on the table, and a servant entered.
“Your mistress?” said he.
“She is upstairs.”
Something in the servant’s tones attracted the detective, and he bounded
up the steps.
Into the girl’s boudoir he burst, to stop just beyond the threshold.
One glance was enough—one look at the form lying on the couch
satisfied the detective, and he did not remove the black-handled dagger
from the blood-flecked bosom.
Claude was found fast asleep and was taken away, but the murderess was
left alone.
The trail was ended.
Opal, the murderer of Mother Flintstone, was past reach of judge or jury,
and the court acquitted Claude, for Bristol Clara, the only living witness,
had to testify in his favor.
George Richmond was tried for conspiracy, and, as the law had long
wanted to get another hold on him, he was sent “up the river” for a long
term, which proved his last, for he died in Sing Sing.
The outcome of the detective’s trail was a startling surprise to
Gothamites and became the talk of the town.
Margie Marne received a goodly share of the Lamont wealth, and
afterward married, while Mulberry Billy, who played no insignificant
part in the Mother Flintstone affair, was placed beyond want by Margie,
who had formed an attachment for the boy.
It afterward turned out that Lewis Newell was a man who once
persecuted Opal with his attentions, and the girl, with the coolness of a
Borgia, decoyed him to his doom and thus began her career of crime.
Carter was highly complimented upon the result of his last trail, but he
will never forget his adventure in the dungeon to which he had been
decoyed by the daughter of the millionaire, nor the coolness with which
she met the terrible charge he brought home to her under her own roof.
THE END.
The title of the next volume of T N M L , No. 836, is
“The Heart of the Underworld,” by Nicholas Carter. The story leads you
through dark and devious ways of crime, through a labyrinth of mystery
and apparent defeat, out upon the broad highway of justice—where
crime is punished and wrongs are righted. The great detective is the
guide through this maze, and those who follow him in his perilous
adventures will find themselves thrilled from start to finish.
The S. & S.
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novels to which new, first-class titles are being added every
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every up-to-date dealer carries a good assortment of them on
his shelves.
STREET & SMITH, Publishers
NEW YORK
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