"My informant is a responsible man, and he declares that there can be no mistake. It was positively one of my securities that was offered to him by an unknown party, who, upon being questioned refused to tell where he had obtained the same, and left before he could be detained. I only trust that there is a mistake, Mr. Goodwyn. It would be a most serious thing for me just now to be crippled when I have need all of my available resources."
"We will prove it to be a mistake, and you can breathe freely again, Mr. Graylock."
With that the cashier stepped into the safe.
Mr. Graylock stood in the doorway of the inner sanctuary, an eager look on his face that told of expectancy and dread, either real or assumed.
Every one in the enclosure had their eyes riveted upon the vault; although they were not supposed to have any interest in this matter it was only human nature to be overwhelmed with curiosity concerning anything that happened in connection with Archibald Graylock, who just now seemed to occupy a prominent place in the talk of the town, particularly with regard to his financial standing.
Five seconds later the cashier came out of the vault again.
He was smiling now, and holding up the big buff envelope that was held with the heavy rubber band.
Both he and the merchant passed within the smaller office, and the door of communication was immediately closed.
Tellers and bookkeepers started back to work, with various significant smiles and nods.
"Has to put his long hand down at last in his bag and get out the securities he had intended keeping for his old age," whispered Pliny, turning to Dick, and then immediately adding: "Why, what's the matter, Dick, you look pale?"