“Nonsense, Paley!”
“I can swear to one of them, at least,” I replied, holding up one of the bills, on the face of which some clown had written a sentence about depreciated currency, that had attracted my attention. “I left this bill in my trunk in the vault at half-past two to-day; at half-past six I find it in your pocket.”
“Do you think—”
“I know!” I interrupted, him, in the most savage manner. “If I can find a policeman, I will put you on the track to the State Prison.”
“Don’t be absurd, Paley,” interposed my uncle; but I saw that there was no heart in the remark. “There must have been a mistake in the counting.”
“You stole this money from my trunk to get me into trouble.”
“Didn’t I tell the president that I would pay the deficit?” asked my uncle. “Hush up! There comes Mr. Bristlebach! Not a word of this to him.”
“You confess, then, that you took this money from my trunk?”
“By-and-by we will talk about it,” he replied, with much agitation.