Then from an inner drawer he drew the merchant's bank-book, in which
were clasped several hundred dollars in bills. Two of the largest
denomination--fifty each--were withdrawn, and the book returned to its
place.
No veteran could have been cooler than Catherwood. He looked and acted no
more like the exquisite on the steamboat than did Tom Gordon himself. He
was the sleek, cunning, hypocritical villain he had always been, stealing,
not because he was in need of money, but because it was his nature to do
so.
"_Well, Mr. Catherwood, it looks as if the account will be a little short
to-morrow_!"
The miscreant started as if he had heard the warning of a rattlesnake at
his feet. Turning like a flash, he saw Mr. Warmore standing at his elbow.
Had he received but a few seconds' notice, he might have tried to bluff it
out, by pretending he had come to look after some matters about which he
was not fully satisfied. Holding the situation he did in the
establishment, he could feel certain no one would suspect him of any
sinister purpose.
But the exposure dropped like a thunderbolt. He had not an instant to
prepare himself.
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