Now, it was Mr. Furze's practice always to make out his accounts himself. It was a pure waste of time, for he would have been much better employed in looking after his men, and any boy could have transcribed his ledger. But no, it was characteristic of the man that he preferred this occupation--that he took the utmost pains to write his best copybook hand, and to rule red-ink lines with mathematical accuracy. Two days after the quarter a bill went to the builder, beginning, "To account delivered." The builder was astonished, and instantly posted down to the shop, receipt in hand, signed, "For J. Furze, T. C." Mr. Furze looked at his ledger again, called for the day-book, found no entry, and then sent for Tom. The history of that afternoon flashed across him in an instant. "That's your signature, Mr. Catchpole," said Mr. Furze. "Yes, sir." "But here's no entry in the day-book, and, what's more, there weren't thirty shillings that night in the till." "I cannot account for it, unless I signed the receipt before I had the money. It was just when Mr. Eaton's accident happened, and I ran out of the shop while Joe was waiting. When I came back he had gone." "Which is as much as to say," said the builder, "that Joe's a thief. You'd better be careful, young man." "Well, Mr. Humphries," said Mr. Furze, loftily, "we will not detain you: there is clearly a mistake somewhere; we will credit you at once with the amount due for the previous quarter, and if you will give me your account I will correct it now." Mr. Furze took it, and ruled through the first line, altering the total. "This is very unpleasant, Mr. Catchpole," observed Mr. Furze, after the builder had departed. "Was there anybody in the shop besides yourself and Joe?" "Jim was there." Mr. Furze rang a bell, and Jim presently appeared. "Jim, were you in the shop when your brother came to pay Mr. Humphries' bill about a week ago?" "I wor." "Did he pay it? did you see him hand over the money?" "I did, and Mr. Catchpole took it and put it in the till. I see'd it go in with my own eyes." "Well, what happened then?" "He locked the till all in a hurry, put the key in his waistcoat pocket; let me see, it wor in his left-hand pocket--no, wot am I a-sayin'?--it wor in his right-hand pocket--I want to be particklar, Mr. Furze--and then he run out of the shop. Joe, he took up his receipt, and he says, says he, 'He might a given me the odd penny,' and says I, 'He ain't Mr. Furze, he can't give away none of the guvnor's money. If it wor the guvnor himself he'd a done it,' and with that we went out of the shop together." "That will do, Jim; you can go." "Mr. Catchpole, this assumes a very--I may say--painful aspect." "I can only repeat, sir, that I have not had the money. It is inexplicable. I may have been robbed." "But there is no entry in the day-book."