His other pockets--nothing.
The detective patted his breast and examined his stockings--nothing.
"Try the bag," said Monckton.
Then the poor fellow trembled again.
The detective searched the bag--nothing.
He took the overcoat and turned the pockets out--nothing.
Bartley looked surprised.

Monckton still more so.

Meantime Hope had gone round from the lobby, and now entered by the small office, and stood watching a part of this business, viz., the search of the bag and the overcoat, with a bitter look of irony.
"But my safe must have been opened with false keys," cried Bartley.
"Where are they ?" "And the numbered notes," said Monckton, "where are they ?" "Gentlemen," said Hope, "may I offer my advice ?" "Who the devil are you ?" said Monckton.
"He is my new partner, my associate in business," said the politic Bartley.

Then deferentially to Hope, "What do you advise ?" "You have two clerks.

I would examine them both." "Examine me ?" cried Monckton.