But the stock broker made no reply.
That he was in this chilling apartment for work, not talk, was evident from every motion he made.
Throwing aside his coat and hat, he placed the lantern by the side of the fire-place, and with a hammer and cold chisel, taken from the pockets of his overcoat, began to remove its back, brick by brick.
"Hold the lantern, Rube," he whispered, as he struck upon the back of the fire-place with the hammer. "There is a hollow space back of this—don't you hear? I tell you, man, we've struck it at last!"
Tisdale seized the lantern and stooped forward toward the fire-place, Callister ringing blow after blow upon the chisel, and prying out the bricks right and left.
Suddenly the whole back of the fire-place fell inward with a crash, raising a cloud of dust which nearly blinded them both.
Seizing the lantern from the hand of his companion, the broker thrust his head into the space revealed, a hollow in the chimney, large enough to hold a million in gold.
It was empty!
Save for the broken bricks and bits of mortar, the rays of the lantern shone upon empty space alone.
With a smothered curse, Elijah Callister drew back into the room.