"Which, fortunately, you are not. Keep a sharp look-out, my lad, and I'll give you a half dollar to-morrow." Paul left the office and returned to Villa Moraquitos, where, for once in a way, he found Camillia alone with Mlle. Corsi. Her father was absent at a dinner party, given by Augustus Horton. This very dinner party was a portion of the villainous plot, concocted by Silas Craig and the planter, for the destruction of Paul Lisimon. The evening flew by like some blessed dream to the young Mexican. Camillia was by his side; she sang to him wild and plaintive Spanish ballads, whose mournful and harmonious cadence drowned his soul in rapture. The words written in the love-breathing language of that Southern land, from whose orange groves and palaces the ancestors of Camillia had emigrated to Southern America. A happy evening; alas! the very last of happiness that Paul was to taste for a long time to come. But even in the society of Camillia Moraquitos, Paul could not quite repress a certain uneasiness about the money he had left in the cash box in Silas Craig's office. He disliked the responsibility of the trust which had been forced upon him by his employer, and was impatient to return the key of the office to its owner. For this reason he was at his post earlier than usual the following morning. Silas Craig did not enter the clerk's office till much later than his customary hour for beginning business. Morisson and one or two others began to speculate upon the probability of their employer having drank rather too freely at the planter's dinner table. The attorney appeared in a peculiarly amiable temper that morning. He shook hands with Paul, spoke to each of the clerks, commended their work, and then, holding out his hand, said, very graciously, "Now, my dear Lisimon, the key of the office. I suppose Mr. Graham lodged that money in your hands last night?" "He did, sir; you will find it in the cash-box." Silas nodded and unlocked the door of the inner office. "Oh, by the bye," he said, "just step this way, Mr. Morisson; I have some directions to give you." The clerk followed his employer into the office. Five minutes afterward Morisson put his head out of the door: "Mr. Lisimon," he said, "you are wanted, if you please." Paul hastened to the inner office. The lawyer was looking very grave, but he spoke in his usual friendly tone. "Where did you say you put the money, my dear Lisimon?" he asked. "In the small cash-box," replied Paul--"there!" He pointed, as he spoke, to the table upon which he had left the cash box on the preceding evening. It was no longer there. The young Mexican's olive cheek grew suddenly white. This fact was observed by the clerk, who stood aghast, looking on. "You must be mistaken, Lisimon; you very likely placed the box in some other part of the office?"