“There is my overcoat, sir,” said Dawkins, “will you be kind enough to search it for yourself?”
Next, of course, Paul's overcoat was searched.
What was our hero's dismay when from one of the pockets Mr. Danforth produced a fifty dollar bill.
“Is it possible?” he exclaimed in as much grief as surprise, “Unhappy boy, how came you by this money in your pocket?”
“I don't know, sir,” returned Paul, his cheek alternately flushing and growing pale.
“I wish I could believe you,” said Mr. Danforth; “where have you put the other bills? Produce them, and I may overlook this first offense.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Paul, in great distress, “I have not the slightest knowledge of how this bill came into my pocket. I hope you will believe me, sir.”
“How can I? The money evidently did not go into your pocket without hands.”
A sudden thought came to Paul. “Dawkins,” said he, “did you put that money into my pocket?”
“What do you mean, sir?” returned Dawkins, haughtily. “Is it your intention to insult me?”