When the doors were at length opened the operative entered the banking
room, and requesting to see Mr. Silby, was ushered into the private
office of the president. As he passed through the room he took a passing
inventory of the young assistant cashier, Mr. Pearson, who was busily
engaged upon his books. He appeared to be a young man of about
twenty-four years of age; of a delicate and refined cast of countenance
and about medium height. His hair and a small curly mustache were of a
light brown shade, and his complexion was as fair as a woman's. The
young lady who had been the other victim of the assault was not present,
and the detective concluded that she was as yet unable to attend to her
duties.

These thoughts and impressions passed through his mind as he walked
through the banking room into the office of the president. As he entered
this apartment, he found several gentlemen evidently awaiting his
appearance, all of whom wore a thoughtful, troubled look, as though they
keenly felt the losses they had sustained and were resolved to bear up
manfully under their misfortune.

Mr. Silby, the president, a tall, fine-looking gentleman in the prime of
life, arose as the detective entered. Mr. Silby was one of those persons
who instinctively impress the beholder, with a confidence closely
approaching to veneration. Of a commanding presence, a broad noble face
surmounted with a wealth of hair in which the silvery touch of time has
left many traces, while his deep blue eyes were as bright as those of a
youth of twenty. There was such an air of rugged and uncompromising
honesty, of kindly feeling and warm-heartedness about the man, that even
before he had spoken the detective experienced a strong impulse of
regard for him, and a corresponding determination to perform his full
duty in this investigation and to devote all the energy of his being to