"I see it," said Miles.
"Then it is my property, and you might as well hand it out here at once," said the grocer. "I want to know how much I have lost, without any more trifling."
"There's no trifling about this," replied Sam. "There is more than one Erastus Smith in the world who is able to own a pocket-book like that. Go on."
"Open it, and look for a hundred dollars in paper money and fifty dollars in gold," said Mr. Smith, with an air of resignation.
"I find no such sum here," answered Miles, after he had looked through the pocket-book. "All I see is a single five-dollar note."
Mr. Smith groaned.
"Almost thirty-two hundred dollars in clean cash gone out of the firm in less than eight months," said he, with a long-drawn sigh. "That cuts down the profits fearfully—fearfully!"
"I find here some bills receivable."
"Good!" exclaimed the grocer. "I am glad the thief left them. There ought to be between eight and nine hundred dollars' worth of them."
Mr. Smith then went on to give a description of the bills, which were endorsed and filed in nearly the same order in which he referred to them.