st: That the box was placed in the safe the night before, and in the
morning was gone; and that, besides the manager, he was the only one who
could have opened the safe and taken it. And,

"Second: That, of course, he knew his own innocence."

The only alternative, then, was that Mr. Black had been mistaken in
thinking he had returned the box to the safe.

Grasping at this possibility, Jack argued on. How could the manager have
been mistaken? Overlooked the box, say because of its being covered by
something?

"Why it may be there yet!" exclaimed Jack hopefully. And a few minutes
later, relieved from his wire for lunch, he hurriedly descended again to
the manager's office.

"Mr. Black, may I look around here a bit?" he requested.

"Look around? What for?"

"To see if I cannot find something to help solve this mystery," responded
Jack, not wishing directly to suggest that the manager had overlooked the
box.

"So you keep to it that you know nothing, eh? Well, go ahead," said the
manager shortly, turning back to his desk.

Jack's hopes were quickly shattered. Neither on the desk, nor a table
beside the safe, was there anything which could have concealed the
missing box.

Stooping, he glanced under the table. Something white, a newspaper,
leaning against the wall, caught his eye. With a flutter of hope he
reached beneath and threw it aside. There was nothing behind it.

Disappointedly he caught the newspaper up and tossed it into the
waste-basket. Suddenly, on a thought, he recovered the paper, and opened
it. On discovering it was the "Bulletin," a paper he knew Mr. Black
seldom read, the idea took definite shape. And, yes, it was of
yesterday's date!

"Mr. Black," exclaimed Jack, "this is not your paper, is it?"

Somewhat impatiently the manager glanced up. "The 'Bulletin'? No."

"Were you reading it yesterday, sir?"

"Well, I don't see what you are driving at--but, no. It was probably left
here by Smith, one of the express clerks next door. He was in for a while
yesterday on some telegraph money-order business. Yes, he did have it in
his hand, now I remember. But why?"

At the mention of Smith's name Jack started, and there immediately came
to him a remembrance of having a few days previously seen the express
clerk on a street corner in earnest conversation with Hansen, the
discharged janitor.

In suppressed excitement he asked, "When was Smith here, Mr. Black? What
time?"

The manager smiled sardo