e, coming forward, but very slowly and
somewhat hesitatingly for him. "I think I am ready to say--"

Here the door opened, and Mr. Stuyvesant returned. The detective drew a
breath of relief and repeated his words with a business-like assurance.
"I think I am ready to say, that from the nature of the theft and the
mysterious manner in which it has been perpetrated, suspicion
undoubtedly points to some one connected with the bank. That is all that
you require of me to-day?" he added, with a bow of some formality in the
direction of Mr. Sylvester.

"Yes," was the short reply. But in an instant a change passed over the
stately form of the speaker. Advancing to Mr. Gryce, he confronted him
with a countenance almost majestic in its severity, and somewhat
severely remarked, "This is a serious charge to bring against men whose
countenances you yourself have denominated as honest. Are we to believe
you have fully considered the question, and realize the importance of
what you say?"

"Mr. Sylvester," replied the detective, with great self-possession and
some dignity, "a man who is brought every day of his life into positions
where the least turning of a hair will sink a man or save him, learns to
weigh his words, before he speaks even in such informal inquiries as
these."

Mr. Sylvester bowed and turned towards Mr. Stuyvesant. "Is there any
further action you would like to have taken in regard to this matter
to-day?" he asked, without a tremble in his voice.

With a glance at the half open box of the absent Mr. Harrington, the
agitated director slowly shook his head. "We must have time to think,"
said he.

Mr. Gryce at once took up his hat. "If the charge implied in my opinion
strikes you, gentlemen, as serious, you must at least acknowledge that
your own judgment does not greatly differ from mine, or why such
unnecessary agitation in regard to a loss so petty, by a gentleman worth
as we are told his millions." And with this passing shot, to which
neither of his auditors responded, he made his final obeisance and
calmly left the room.

Mr. Sylvester and Mr. Stuyvesant slowly confronted one another.

"The man speaks the truth," said the former. "You at least suspect some
one in the bank, Mr. Stuyvesant?"

"I have no wish to," hastily returned the other, "but facts--"

"Would facts of this nature have any weight with you against the
unspotted character of a man never known by you to meditate, much less
commit a dishone