But there was a secret entrance through the map of America, which communicated with the passage leading into the house in Columbia street. The existence of this secret passage was known only to Silas Craig, William Bowen, and the banker and manager of the gambling-house.
It was by means of this very passage that the foul plot, which was to entrap Paul Lisimon, was to be carried out.
Three days after his interview with the planter, Silas Craig summoned the young Mexican to his private office.
"My dear Lisimon," he said, motioning Paul to a seat, "for once in my life I am tempted to desert business earlier than usual. I have an engagement to dine with my client, Mr. Horton. The dinner hour is five, and I have, unfortunately, an appointment here at half-past five with a wealthy old client of mine, who is going to bring me a few thousand dollars he wishes me to invest for him. Now, in this dilemma, I fancy, my dear Lisimon, that you can assist me."
Paul merely bowed. They were not alone in the office; one of the other clerks, a young man of the name of Morisson, was standing at the lawyer's desk waiting for further orders.
"What I want you to do, Lisimon, is to remain here till half-past five and receive the money from my client. You will give him an acknowledgment for the sum, and you will place the money, whether it should be in notes or gold, in this small cash-box, of which I will leave you the key. I shall also give you the key of the door of this office, which you will carefully lock on leaving the place. As there is no other communication, all will be perfectly secure. You understand?"
"Completely, Mr. Craig," said Paul.
"I thought you would be able to do this little bit of business for me," replied the lawyer, rising and locking his desk; "here are the keys," he added, handing Paul the key of the door and the smaller one belonging to the cash-box; "you will keep the office key in your possession until you see me to-morrow morning. Be very careful of it, for I have no duplicate. It's now half-past four, so I have not a minute to lose. You'll find my client, Mr. Graham, a curious countryfied old fellow, Lisimon, but I've no doubt you'll be able to manage him. Good afternoon!"
Silas left the office, followed by the clerk, Morisson; and Paul, taking up one of the New Orleans papers, prepared to await the expected visitor. The client arrived, punctual to his appointment, at half-past five. He was an elderly man, a planter, whose estate lay at a distance of several hundred miles from New Orleans, and who had the highest opinion of Silas Craig's professional and moral character.
"A worthy man," he would say, shaking his head wisely, when speaking of the money-lending lawyer; "a moral man, a church-going man, and a credit to New Orleans. I am sorry there are not more to follow his pious example."