Rupert put on his hat and hurried down the path which led to the main road. Crossing Post Bridge he turned to the right and soon found himself in the avenue that led to the Hall. It was situated fairly high up under the shadow of the tors and surrounded by trees. Lights shone cheerfully from all the windows. Before he could ring the front-door bell Sir Reginald Crichton stepped out and met him. "Sorry to trouble you," he said curtly; "but the matter is rather important. Do you mind coming up to my study?" Rupert followed, wondering what had happened. To his relief he saw his father standing with his back to the fireplace. Sir Reginald shut the door, then sitting down an old oak bureau motioned Rupert to a seat. But the latter remained standing. "Perhaps you will explain," said Sir Reginald, looking at John Dale. Rupert looked from one man to the other, and he noticed that his father’s face was pale, the features drawn. Before speaking Dale cleared his throat nervously. "It’s about that cheque I sent you eight days ago. Just before you left London. A cheque for five pounds which Sir Reginald drew and made payable to me. It wasn’t crossed, so I endorsed it and sent it to you." Rupert nodded. "Yes, I received it." "And cashed it?" Sir Reginald spoke. Rupert started. "No, I——" Again he looked from one man to the other. He felt suddenly guilty. "As a matter of fact, I’m sorry to say I lost it." "Lost it? You never told me." Dale spoke. "Of course you wrote to the bank?" Rupert bit his lip. "I forgot all about it—in the excitement of packing up and coming home." John Dale was about to speak, but Crichton held up his hand. "Did the loss of five pounds mean so little to you, then?" he asked Rupert. The latter moistened his lips. His sense of guilt increased, though he had only been guilty of gross carelessness. Yet, how could he explain the situation? "I was fearfully rushed and worried at the time," he said, fumbling for words. "As a matter of fact, the morning I received it I went to the races, and I only discovered the loss when I got back. I must have pulled it out of my bag with some letters and papers. I hope—nothing is wrong?" Sir Reginald leant forward and stretched out his hand. "Look at this, sir." Rupert took the slip of paper he held out. It was a cheque. He saw written across the back of it his father’s name. He looked at the face of the cheque. "_Pay John Allen Dale or bearer the sum of five hundred pounds._" Then underneath in figures "_£500 0s. 0d._" "Exactly," Crichton said. Rising to his feet he stood in front of Rupert and looked at him searchingly. "Your father sent you a cheque for five pounds. Since it left your possession the pounds have been changed to five hundred. That sum was paid out by my bankers. Naturally, I want an explanation. Your father sent it to you. You admit having received it, and say you lost it. I’m afraid that explanation doesn’t satisfy me."