"After we'd locked up," broke in Fancy, "and just as I was packin' Dad off to bed, it came into my head to ask him--'I suppose you don't know,' said I, 'of anyone's havin' been to master's safe without my bein' told?' He thought a bit, and 'No,' says he; 'nobody 'cept myself, an' that but once. '_You?_' says I, 'and whoever sent _you_ there?' 'Why, the master hisself,' says Dad.--Who else?' 'But what for?' I asks, feelin' as you might have knocked me down with a feather. 'I meant to ha' told you,' says Dad, 'but it slipped my mind. 'Twas one afternoon, when you was out on your walk. I heard Master's stick tap on the plankin' overhead so I went up, thinkin' as he might be wantin' his tea in a hurry. He told me to open the safe an' take out a packet o' papers from the top shelf; which I did.' 'What papers?' said I 'How should I know?' says Dad: 'I don't meddle with his business--I've seen too much of it in _my_ life. I didn' even glance at 'em, but locked the safe again, an' put 'em where he told me--which was in the japanned box by his chair!' 'Why,' says I,' that's his Insurance Box as he called it--the same as I handed to Mr Benny only yesterday, to take away and sort through!' . . . After that, as you may guess, I was like a mad person till we'd taken down the bolts again and I'd run to Mr Benny's." "Ay," chimed in Mr Benny, "I was upstairs and half-undressed: but she had me dressed again an' down as if 'twas a matter of life and death. . . . And when we got out the box, there the papers were, sure enough. After that--for I saw their value to you--no one with a human heart could help running along with her, to bear the news. . . . So here we are." "'Bias!" called Cai softly. "Didn' I hear 'Bias's voice below there, a while since?" "Ay, here I be."--It was 'Bias's turn to step out from the shadow of his doorway into the broad moonlight. "And glad enough to hear this news." "Would ye do me a favour? . . . Dressed, are you?" "Ay--been sittin' up latish to-night." "Well, I'm not azackly in a condition to step down--not for a minute or two; and I doubt Mrs Bowldler, if I called her, wouldn' be in no condition either. . . . 'Twould be friendly of you to ask Mr Benny in and offer him a drink; and as for missy--" "No thank 'ee, Cap'n," interposed Mr Benny. "Bringin' you this peace o' mind has been cordial enough for me--and for the child too, I reckon, Good-night, gentlemen!" "Cap'n Hunken," said Fancy, "will you take the papers up to him? Then we'll go." "May I bring the papers to 'ee?" asked 'Bias, lifting his face to the window. "Ay, do--if they won't come in. . . . I'll step down and unbar the door." He lit a candle and hurried downstairs, his heart in his mouth. By the time he had unbarred and opened, Mr Benny and Fancy had taken their departure; but their "good-nights" rang back to him, up the moonlit road, and his friend stood on the threshold. CHAPTER XXVII. MRS BOSENNA GIVES THE ROSE.