The mulatto lad made his appearance.
"Marcus," said his master, "did any one enter this room last night?"
"No, massa, the door was locked."
"I know that; and no one entered by any means whatever?"
"No one, massa, unless de debil go through de keyhole."
"When Mr. Lisimon left this office last night, had he anything in his hand?"
"Noting, massa."
"But he might have had something in his pocket," muttered Silas, in an undertone.
Paul Lisimon turned upon his employer with indignant fury.
"Mr. Craig," he exclaimed, "could you dare to insinuate—"