This speech broke the lethargy that was over him; his mind cleared--he
commenced to think sanely.
"Can you tell me," proceeded Lane, "where the balance of Mr. Porter's
three thousand dollars is?"
"It's in the box."
"That's a--it is not."
"It's in the box," repeated Mortimer, firmly.
"We can soon settle that point," declared the cashier, going hurriedly
into the vault and reappearing instantly with the box in his hand.
He opened it and stared at the package of bills that rose up when freed
from the pressure of the lid. With nervous fingers he counted the
contents.
"I beg your pardon," he exclaimed in a quick, jerky way. "The three
thousand dollars is here, but these bills have been put in the box this
morning; they were not there last night. It is not the money that was
taken away, either. That was one bill, a thousand-dollar note; and here
are"--he counted them again--"six one hundreds and eight fifties,
besides the original two of one thousand. You put those notes back, Mr.
Mortimer," he said, tapping the desk with two fingers of the right hand.
"I did."
"And you took the money yesterday or the day before?"
"I did not."
"Ah!" Lane repeated in a drier, more severe tone than he had used
before.
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