"It is one of the same denomination, but on a different bank."
"Do you remember what bank it was on?"
"It was on the Merchants' Bank of Boston."
"Are you sure of it?"
"I am."
"Perhaps the boy kept it and offered the other."
"You may search me if you want to," said Dick, indignantly.
"He doesn't look as if he was likely to have any extra bills. I
suspect that your clerk pocketed the good bill, and has substituted
the counterfeit note. It is a nice little scheme of his for making
money."
"I haven't seen any bill on the Merchants' Bank," said the clerk,
doggedly.
"You had better feel in your pockets."
"This matter must be investigated," said the merchant, firmly. "If
you have the bill, produce it."
"I haven't got it," said the clerk; but he looked guilty
notwithstanding.
"I demand that he be searched," said Dick's patron.
"I tell you I haven't got it."
"Shall I send for a police officer, Mr. Hatch, or will you allow
yourself to be searched quietly?" said the merchant.
Alarmed at the threat implied in these words, the clerk put his hand
into his vest-pocket, and drew out a two-dollar bill on the
Merchants' Bank.
"Is this your note?" asked the shopkeeper, showing it to the
young man.
"It is."
"I must have made a mistake," faltered the clerk.
"I shall not give you a chance to make such another mistake in my
employ," said the merchant sternly.
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