We had now reached the bank, which stood in Liberty Street, a turning
out of the Piazza. I took out my key, unlocked the door, and we
entered together. We passed into my inner sanctum, where the safe
stood.

"What's it in?" asked the President.

"United States bonds, and bills on New York and London," I replied.

"Good," said he. "Let me look."

I undid the safe, and took out the securities. He examined them
carefully, placing each after due scrutiny in a small handbag, in
which he had brought down the bonds I was to receive. I stood by,
holding a shaded candle. At this moment a voice cried from the door:

"If you move you're dead men!"

I started and looked up. The President looked up without starting.
There was dear old Jones, descended from his upper chamber, where he
and Mrs. Jones resided. He was clad only in his night-shirt, and was
leveling a formidable gun full at the august head of his Excellency.

"Ah, Mr. Jones," said the latter "it's a fine morning."

"Good Heavens, the President!" cried Jones; "and Mr. Martin! Why, what
on earth, gentlemen--"

The President gently waved one hand toward me, as if to say, "Mr.
Martin will explain," and went on placing his securities in the bag.