Time went on, and it grew into more of a mystery than ever. Not as to the fact itself or the stolen note, for all that was soon known high and low. The Worcester office exonerated itself from suspicion, as did the railway letter-van. The van let off its resentment in a little private sneering: but the office waxed hot, and declared the fraud must lie at the door of Timberdale. And so the matter was given up for a bad job, the Squire submitting to the loss of his note. But a curious circumstance occurred, connected with Thomas Rymer. And, to me, his behaviour had seemed almost curious throughout. Not at that first interview--as I said, he was open, and, so to say, indifferent then; but soon afterwards his manner changed. On the day following that interview, the Squire, who was very restless over it, wanting the thing to come to light in no time, sent me again to Rymer's, to know if he had learned any news. Rymer said he had not; and his manner was just what it had been the past day. I could have staked my life, if necessary, that the man _believed_ what he said--that news must be looked for elsewhere, not at Timberdale. I am sure that he thought it impossible that the theft could have been effected after the letters came into his hands. But some days later on, when the whole matter had been disclosed, and the public knew as much about it as we did, the Squire, well of his cold, thought he would have a talk with Rymer himself, went over, and took me with him. I shall not forget it. In Rymer's window, the chemical side, there was a picture of a bullock eating up some newly-invented cattle-food and growing fat upon it. It caught the Squire's eye. Whilst he stopped to read the advertisement, I went in. The moment Rymer saw me--his daughter called to him to come out of the parlour where he was at dinner--his face turned first red, and then as pale as death. "Mr. Todhetley thought he would like to come and see you, Mr. Rymer." "Yes, yes," he said, in an agitated sort of tone, and then he stooped to put some jars closer together under the counter; but I thought he knew how white he was, and wanted to hide it. When the Squire came in, asking first of all about the new cattle-food, he noticed nothing. Rymer was very nearly himself then, and said he had taken the agency, and old Massock had ordered some of it. Then they talked about the note. Rymer's tone was quite different from what it had been before; though whether I should have noticed it but for his white face I can hardly tell. That had made me notice _him_. He spoke in a low, timid voice, saying no more than he was obliged to say, as if the subject frightened him. One thing I saw--that his hands trembled. Some camomile blows lay on a white paper on the counter, and he began doing them up with shaky fingers.