This fact was observed by the clerk, who stood aghast, looking on.
"You must be mistaken, Lisimon; you very likely placed the box in some other part of the office?"
"No!" cried Paul, with energy, "I left it on that table, and nowhere else. Come, Mr. Craig, this must be some jest of yours. You have removed the box since you entered the office, and are doing this to frighten me."
"Was there any box on yonder table when we entered this room, Morisson?" said Craig, addressing himself to the clerk.
"No, sir."
"You see, my dear Lisimon, it must be you who are jesting. Were you any other than the beloved protege of my respected client, Don Juan Moraquitos, I should positively begin to be alarmed."
"Jesting!" exclaimed Paul; "I swear to you that before leaving this office last night, I locked the cash-box containing the dollar bills and placed it upon that table. Search where you will, Morisson," he said, looking at the clerk, who, at a whispered order from his employer, had begun to search the office, "unless there has been witchcraft about, you will find it there and nowhere else, for there I left it."
"Come, come, Mr. Lisimon," said Craig, in an altered tone, "this is really too absurd. We no longer believe in magic, or the juggleries of the fiend. You say you left the box in this apartment last night. It must therefore be here this morning, if you have spoken the truth."
"If I have spoken the truth!" echoed Paul, the hue of his cheeks changing from pale to crimson.
"Not a creature has entered this room since you left it," continued Silas; "for there is but one key to the door, and that has been in your possession until within the last ten minutes. The boy Marcus sleeps in the office; call him, Morisson."