Robert found that Katharine had not drawn on her private banking account for more than a fortnight. More than ever puzzled by this discovery, he questioned her maid, inquiring if she could tell what money her mistress had had in her possession. She had only a few sovereigns in her purse, the maid knew, when she went out that fatal day in the carriage. Katharine had forgotten her purse, and sent her upstairs for it just as she reached the hall-door; so she had seen the purse, and taken particular notice of it, as it lay open on the dressing-table. Robert went with the woman to examine the drawers and wardrobes in Katharine's room. He was intensely anxious now to be assured that she had the equivalent of money with her; for he was far from really sharing Lady Henmarsh's confident anticipations, though he tried to persuade himself that he did so. All Katharine's possessions were in perfect order--not a trinket, not a jewel was missing,--not one, at least, that Robert had given her, or that she had bought since their marriage; nothing but the old-fashioned case containing her dead mother's diamonds, her sole dowry, was gone from its place. Then Robert despaired; then he seemed to understand the terrible and final meaning of this event. He was standing before the open doors of a cabinet in which Katharine's jewels were symmetrically arranged, and had just satisfied himself that only the case of jewels had been removed, when a servant came to seek him. "What is it?" said Robert. "I am busy: I cannot see any one." "It is one of the clerks from the City, sir," returned the man; "and he wants to see you on important business." Robert went down to the study, and saw the clerk from the City. His business was important, and his news serious. New and heavy loss had fallen on Streightley and Son. Troubles had indeed come to Robert, "not by single spies, but in battalions." CHAPTER II. DELIBERATION.