in charge?"

"No;" again came from Mr. Sylvester, with impartial justice. "The
watchman--who by the way has been in the bank for twelve years--could
not help a man to find entrance to the vaults. His simple duty is to
watch over the bank and give alarm in case of fire or burglary. It would
necessitate a knowledge of the combination by which the vault doors are
opened, to do what you suggest, and that is possessed by but three
persons in the bank."

"And those are?"

"The cashier, the janitor, and myself."

He endeavored to speak calmly and without any betrayal of the effort it
caused him to utter those simple words, but a detective's ear is nice
and it is doubtful if he perfectly succeeded.

Mr. Gryce however limited himself to a muttered, humph! and a long and
thoughtful look at a spot on the green baize of the table before which
he sat.

"The janitor lives in the building, I suppose?"

"Yes, and is, as I am sure Mr. Stuyvesant will second me in asserting,
honesty to the back-bone."

"Janitors always are," observed the detective; then shortly, "How long
has _he_ been with you?"

"Three years."

Another "humph!" and an increased interest in the ink spot.

"That is not long, considering the responsibility of his position."

"He was on the police force before he came to us," remarked Mr.
Sylvester.

Mr. Gryce looked as if that was not much of a recommendation.

"As for the short time he has been with us," resumed the other, "he came
into the bank the same winter as my nephew and myself, and has found the
time sufficient to earn the respect of all who know him."

The detective bowed, seemingly awed by the dignity with which the last
statement had been uttered; but any one who knew him well, would have
perceived that the film of uncertainty which had hitherto dimmed the
brightness of his regard was gone, as if in the other's impressive
manner, if not in the suggestion his words had unconsciously offered,
the detective had received an answer to some question which had been
puzzling him, or laid his hand upon some clue which had till now eluded
his grasp. The inquiries which he made haste to pursue, betrayed,
however, but little of the tendency of his thoughts.

"The janitor, you say, knows the combination by which the vault doors
are opened?"

"The _vault doors_," emphasized Mr. Sylvester. "The safe is another
matter; that stands inside the vault and is locked by a triple
combination which as a whole