"Well, we didn't find it, that's all I know; or poor Philip, either," said Captain Cockermuth. The farmer took his departure. As the captain was showing him to the front-door, another gentleman came hustling in. It was Thomas Chance the lawyer, father of the young man who had been the previous night with Samson Dene. He and Lawyer Cockermuth were engaged together just then in some complicated, private, and very disagreeable business, each acting for a separate client, who were the defendants against a great wrong--or what they thought was one. "Come in, Chance, and take a look at my box of guineas, resuscitated from the grave," cried the captain, joyously. "You can go into the office to John afterwards." "Well, I've hardly time this morning," answered Mr. Chance, turning, though, into the parlour and shaking hands with Miss Betty. "Austin told me it was found." Now it happened that Lawyer Cockermuth came then into the parlour himself, to get something from his private desk-table which stood there. When the box had been discussed, Mr. Chance took a letter from his pocket and placed it in his brother practitioner's hands. "What do you think of that?" he asked. "I got it by post this morning." "Think! why, that it is of vital importance," said Mr. Cockermuth when he had read it. "Yes; no doubt of that. But what is to be our next move in answer to it?" asked the other. Seeing they were plunging into business, the captain strolled away to the front-door, which stood open all day, for the convenience of those coming to the office, and remained there whistling, his hands in his pockets, on the look out for somebody else to bring in. He had put the lid on the box of guineas, and left the box on the table. "I should like to take a copy of this letter," said Mr. Cockermuth to the other lawyer. "Well, you can take it," answered Chance. "Mind who does it, though--Parslet, or somebody else that's confidential. Don't let it go into the office." "You are wanted, sir," said Mr. Dene, from the door. "Who is it?" asked his master. "Mr. Chamberlain. He says he is in a hurry." "I'm coming. Here, Dene!" he called out as the latter was turning away: and young Dene came back again. "Sit down here, now, and take a copy of this letter," cried the lawyer, rapidly drawing out and opening the little writing-desk table that stood against the wall at the back of the room. "Here's pen, ink and paper, all ready: the letter is confidential, you perceive." He went out of the room as he spoke, Mr. Chance with him; and Sam Dene sat down to commence his task, after exchanging a few words with Miss Betty, with whom he was on good terms. "Charles makes as much fuss over this little box as if it were filled with diamonds from Golconda, instead of guineas," remarked she, pointing with her scissors to the box, which stood near her on the table, to direct the young man's attention to it. "I don't know how many folks he has not brought in already to have a look at it."