"She took that note; it could not have gone in any other manner," steadily persisted Mrs. Knox. "You'll say so yourself, Arnold, when you know all. The commotion it has caused in the place, and the worry it has caused me are beyond everything. Every day some tradesman or other comes here to ask whether the money has been replaced--for of course they know I can't pay them under such a loss, until it is; and I must say they have behaved very well. I never liked Janet Carey. Deceitful minx!" With so many talking together, Dr. Knox did not gather a very clear account of the details. Mrs. Knox mixed up surmises with facts in a manner to render the whole incomprehensible. He said no more then. Later, Mrs. Knox saw that he was preparing to go out. She resented it. "I think, Arnold, you might have passed this one evening at home: I want to have a talk with you about money matters. What I am to do is more than I know, unless Janet Carey or her friends can be made to return the money." "I am going down to Tamlyn's, to see Bertie." Dr. Knox let himself out at the street-door, and was walking down the garden-path, when he found somebody come flying past. It was Sally the housemaid, on her way to open the gate for him. Such an act of attention was unusual and quite unnecessary; the doctor thanked her, but told her she need not have taken the trouble. "I--I thought I'd like to ask you, sir, how that--that poor Miss Carey is," said Sally, in a whisper, as she held the gate back, and her breath was so short as to hinder her words. "It was London she was took to, sir; and, as you live in the same town, I've wondered whether you might not have come across her." "London is a large place," observed Dr. Knox. "I did not even know Miss Carey was there." "It was a dreadful thing, sir, poor young lady. Everybody so harsh, too, over it. And I--I--I _can't_ believe but she was innocent." "It is simply an insult on Miss Carey to suppose otherwise," said Dr. Knox. "Are you well, Sally? What's the matter with your breath?" "Oh, it's nothing but a stitch that takes me, thank you, sir," returned Sally, as she shut the gate after him and flew back again. But Dr. Knox saw it was no "stitch" that had stopped Sally's breath and checked her utterance, but genuine agitation. It set him thinking. * * * * * No longer any sitting up for poor Bertie Tamlyn in this world! It was about eight o'clock when Dr. Knox entered the sick-chamber. Bertie lay in bed; his arms thrown outside the counterpane beside him, as though they were too warm. The fire gave out its heat; two lamps were burning, one on the mantelpiece, one on the drawers at the far end of the room. Bertie had always liked a great deal of light, and he liked it still. Miss Tamlyn met Dr. Knox at the door, and silently shook hands with him.