“Mind, Barton, don’t forget sharp six is the dinner-hour; you were ten minutes late yesterday, and the joint was overdone.” In a few minutes Mr. Barton was on the roof of his ‘bus on his way to the city. As he went along he sat grave and immoveable, scrutinizing the passers-by, as if he considered they all possessed secrets he might be some day called upon to investigate. Mr. Barton’s office was in one of the narrow streets leading off Cheapside, and consisted of two rooms on the first floor, the one a general waiting-room, the other his private office. In the former two lads were at work at a desk, copying from the “Gazette” the bankrupt and insolvent list. “Has any one been here?” “One gentleman, sir; he left his card.” Mr. Barton looked at it. “Did he say he would call again?” “He left word would you go round directly you came in.” The card was that of the manager of a large banking firm. “Ask any one who calls to wait, I shall not be gone many minutes,” and Mr. Barton took his way to the Bank. On his sending in his name, he was at once shown into the manager’s room. The manager, an elderly man with spectacles, was evidently at the present time considerably ruffled and put out. “Take a seat, Mr. Barton. A very unpleasant business has taken place, very much so, indeed. One of our clerks has made away with a great deal of money; we do not yet know the particulars; we only found it out yesterday afternoon. We sent for one of the books which he kept, as we wished to compare it with another; on doing so we discovered some extraordinary discrepancies; we sent down to him, but he was gone—had left immediately the book was taken up to us. We sent up to his house, but of course he had been in and gone out again. We put the police on his scent last night, but as I was coming up to town this morning, I remembered that you knew his face, as he was several times at your office about that case of forgery you followed up for us; his name was Symes—David Symes.” “I remember, sir, a fair young man.” “Just so; we shall offer two hundred pounds reward for his capture.” “Very well, sir,” Mr. Barton said, “I will lose no time. I will telegraph down to my agents in Liverpool and Southampton. The police are sure to watch Dover and Folkestone, and I will myself see about the London shipping. If he is still in the country, depend upon it we shall catch him, sir.” “Reuben,” Mr. Barton said to one of the lads in his office, upon his return, “go at once and see Jonah Moss and Levi, and tell them to go to all the slop shops in Houndsditch and eastward, and find out if a young man of about thirty, fair, with bluish eyes, and very little whisker, looking like a gentleman, bought any sea clothes down there last night. If so, bring me a description.” “You need not trouble yourself, Mr. Barton,” a man said, coming into the office. “Perhaps I can give you the information you want.”