But it is possible to be honest without being handsome; and rogues assume virtues they do not possess. Certainly, the valuable package was not concealed upon the person of Buckner. The only alternative was, that he had thrown it away,—cast it into some hole, or pitched it into the river.
"There can be no doubt this is the man that took the package from the counter, for no one else came near me while I was in the saloon," reasoned Peverell, whose vehemence had calmed down, and given place to a deep anxiety.
"I've said all I have to say, and you can do what you like with me; but I will make it hot for some of you before you see the end of this business," said Buckner, doggedly. "I'm a poor man, but I'm not to be trodden on, any more than a nigger is!"
By this time the crowd had scattered to make a search in the holes and in the water for the missing package.
"What were you doing in the saloon?" asked the messenger, in a mild tone.
"I went in there to see if I could find a man to help me take up a couple of trunks to the St. James," replied Buckner. "I looked into the nigger bar, and then came out. I saw there was a man at the front bar; but I took no notice of him, and didn't see any package."
"Before you had reached the door, this young man had jumped over the counter, and was chasing you. He was sure you had taken the package; and no one else could have taken it," added Peverell, warming up again.
"But I didn't take it, and that's all I have to say about it," answered Buckner, decidedly.
"I saw him take it!" repeated Nick, with emphasis. "He must have thrown it into the river."
The policeman led his prisoner away to the lockup, while all the rest of us followed up the search for half an hour. The messenger said the bills were done up between two tin slabs of the size of the notes, and inclosed in brown paper. Some searched on the pier, and some went out in boats,—but no package could be found. The search was given up, and I went back to the saloon with Nick and Peverell.