He quickly found the roll, brought home the night before to meet an obligation the following morning at nine o'clock, and counted it.
Exactly one thousand dollars gone!
He picked up the pistol and looked at it carefully. Every chamber was full.
With compressed lips and a countenance of dangerous resolution he laid it down, and turned toward Leonie again. The first person to confront him was his daughter.
"More money missing?" she asked, with a show of anxious interest, yet capitally assumed innocence.
"A thousand!" he answered, almost shortly. "There is one consolation in it. I shall soon know the thief! I would give a thousand, or even ten, to know that!"
He left her and, stepping to the side of the couch, he stood with folded arms awaiting Leonie's restoration to consciousness. He neither spoke nor moved, but stood like a statue through the moments that seemed like hours until the eyes opened, and with an air of great bewilderment Leonie sat up.
With the fingers of one hand pressed upon her temple, Leonie slowly arose from her reclining position, her eyes traveling from one place to another vaguely. They rested at last upon the blonde beauty that had ruled New York society with an iron hand, and with a long breath, that was a half articulated sound, she tottered to her feet.
Evelyn Chandler's heart gave a great bound, then seemed to stand dangerously still.
Leonard Chandler was perplexed beyond expression.