The attorney appeared in a peculiarly amiable temper that morning. He shook hands with Paul, spoke to each of the clerks, commended their work, and then, holding out his hand, said, very graciously, "Now, my dear Lisimon, the key of the office. I suppose Mr. Graham lodged that money in your hands last night?"
"He did, sir; you will find it in the cash-box."
Silas nodded and unlocked the door of the inner office. "Oh, by the bye," he said, "just step this way, Mr. Morisson; I have some directions to give you."
The clerk followed his employer into the office. Five minutes afterward Morisson put his head out of the door: "Mr. Lisimon," he said, "you are wanted, if you please."
Paul hastened to the inner office. The lawyer was looking very grave, but he spoke in his usual friendly tone.
"Where did you say you put the money, my dear Lisimon?" he asked.
"In the small cash-box," replied Paul—"there!"
He pointed, as he spoke, to the table upon which he had left the cash box on the preceding evening.
It was no longer there.
The young Mexican's olive cheek grew suddenly white.