A swift walker, the Labour M.P., and one with whom it was not easy to keep pace; he talked at a corresponding rate, so that by the time they reached the office of the London Railway Carmen’s Society, he was showing signs of exhaustion, and the duty of talking to Spanswick, who was perched on the window-sill on the landing, devolved upon Erb. Spanswick wore a look of perturbation and showed some desire not to look at Erb in speaking to him; he puffed at a ragged cigar, at which he glanced now and again with deep regret. “I can’t make ’ead or tail of it,” said Spanswick, despondently. “It’s a mystery, that’s what it is. Why I should have trusted that man with untold gold.” “What’s happened?” asked Erb. “After all I’ve done for him, too,” went on Spanswick. “I’ve treated him like a brother, I have; I might go so far as to say I’ve treated him more like a friend than a brother. It was only last night that we were ’aving a few friendly glasses together—I paid for the last, worse luck!—and he was talking about what he was going to do for the Society, and all the time he must have had this letter in his pocket, ready to pop in the post.” “Where’s the key to this door?” asked the Labour M.P. sharply. “He might well call himself Mister Doubleday,” went on Spanswick, finding the key in his pocket, “I’ve never been more deceived in anybody in all my life. Him and me has been pals for over six weeks, and this is how he turns round and treats me.” “What on earth are you talking about?” “I’ve seen him home when it’s been necessary after the places were closed, and sometimes,” Spanswick admitted this grudgingly, “sometimes of course, he’s seen me ’ome when it’s been necessary. He’s told me things about his early boyhood; I’ve told him things about my early boyhood. If I’ve had more tobacco in me pouch than he has, he’s always been welcome to a pipeful. I got him the best berth he ever had in all his born days—” “And outed me from it,” remarked Erb. “What—?” “But don’t it jest shew you,” demanded Spanswick eagerly, “how the very best of us can sometimes be taken in? I’m looked on as a man who knows enough to come in when it rains, and I certainly pride myself more on taking in others than being took in meself. And here am I, in me fortysecond year—” “Barnes!” called the voice of the Labour M.P. from the office, “come here!” Spanswick went on growling to himself as Erb left him and entered the office. “The books do not appear to have been touched since you left,” said the white-haired man. “Not a figure, not a letter.” “Then he can’t be accused of tampering with ’em.” “How much cash did you leave in the safe?” Erb showed the sum at the foot of a page in the accounts book. “I’ve half a mind,” said the Labour M.P., in a determined way, that suggested he was making an understatement, “I have half a mind to break it open!” “Wouldn’t it be better to give him a chance of coming back?” “Read that letter!”