But Mr. Sylvester had scarcely reached out his hand to ring the bell by which he usually summoned the janitor, when the agent of Hicks, Saltzer & Co. came in. It was an interruption that demanded instant attention. Saluting the gentleman with his usual proud reserve, he drew his attention to the box lying upon the table.
“This is yours, I believe, sir,” said he. “It was found in our vaults this morning in the condition in which you now behold it, and we are anxious to know if its contents are all correct.”
“They have been handled,” returned the agent, after a careful survey of the various papers that filled the box, “but nothing appears to be missing.”
Three persons at least in that room breathed more easily.
“But the truth is,” the gentleman continued, with a half smile towards the silent President of the bank, “there was nothing in this box that would have been of much use to any other parties than ourselves. If there had been a bond or so here, I doubt if we should have come off so fortunately, eh? The lock has evidently been wrenched open, and that is certainly a pretty sure sign that something is not right hereabouts.”
“Something is decidedly wrong,” came from Mr. Sylvester sternly; “but through whose fault we do not as yet know.” And with a few words expressive of his relief at finding the other had sustained no material loss, he allowed the agent to depart.
He had no sooner left the room than Mr. Stuyvesant rose. “Are you going to question Hopgood now?” queried he, nervously pocketing his notebook.
“Yes sir, if you have no objections.”
The director fidgeted with his chair and finally moved towards the door.