"Then where is it?"
"I don't know."
"Fred, go for a constable."
The cashier yet remained by the door, and now he held it open a few inches that his order might be obeyed.
"Please don't do a thing like that," Fred cried, while Sam stood near the desk pale as death, but every action breathing defiance.
"Do you think I'll let a boy steal eight hundred dollars, and do nothing toward recovering it?"
"Wait until Mr. Wright comes back and see what he thinks."
"And in the meantime he or his accomplice will have had plenty of time in which to carry the cash beyond our reach."
"But I am sure that what he tells is the truth."
"I don't believe a word of it. Such a thing never happened before, and the thief sha'nt go free now if I can prevent it."