“Must I squeeze a little more information into that thick head of yours?” asked Sharon. With this question he produced a weekly newspaper, and pointed to a paragraph which reported, among the items of sporting news, Hardyman’s recent visit to a sale of horses at a town in the north of France. “We know he didn’t pay the bank-note in to his account,” Sharon remarked. “What else did he do with it? Took it to pay for the horses that he bought in France! Do you see your way a little plainer now? Very good. Let’s try next if your money holds out. Somebody must cross the Channel in search of the note. Which of us two is to sit in the steam-boat with a white basin on his lap? Old Sharon, of course!” He stopped to count the money still left, out of the sum deposited by Moody to defray the cost of the inquiry. “All right!” he went on. “I’ve got enough to pay my expenses there and back. Don’t stir out of London till you hear from me. I can’t tell how soon I may not want you. If there’s any difficulty in tracing the note, your hand will have to go into your pocket again. Can’t you get the lawyer to join you? Lord! how I should enjoy squandering _his_ money! It’s a downright disgrace to me to have only got one guinea out of him. I could tear my flesh off my bones when I think of it.” The same night Old Sharon started for France, by way of Dover and Calais. Two days elapsed, and brought no news from Moody’s agent. On the third day, he received some information relating to Sharon--not from the man himself, but in a letter from Isabel Miller. “For once, dear Robert,” she wrote, “my judgment has turned out to be sounder than yours. That hateful old man has confirmed my worst opinion of him. Pray have him punished. Take him before a magistrate and charge him with cheating you out of your money. I inclose the sealed letter which he gave me at the farmhouse. The week’s time before I was to open it expired yesterday. Was there ever anything so impudent and so inhuman? I am too vexed and angry about the money you have wasted on this old wretch to write more. Yours, gratefully and affectionately, Isabel.” The letter in which Old Sharon had undertaken (by way of pacifying Isabel) to write the name of the thief, contained these lines: “You are a charming girl, my dear; but you still want one thing to make you perfect--and that is a lesson in patience. I am proud and happy to teach you. The name of the thief remains, for the present, Mr. ---- (Blank).”