The hue and cry for the missing George Smith might be raised, but what of that? Who would connect George Smith, the humble clerk who lodged at Duck’s, with George Heritage, Squire Heritage’s son and heir? CHAPTER XXVI. PECULIAR BEHAVIOUR OF MR. SETH PREENE. Mr. Seth Preene, the amateur detective, hurrying along on his mission of love and mercy, chuckled to himself at the ease with which he had accomplished his purpose. ‘He is a green un,’ he said to himself; ‘grass ain’t in it with him. I wonder where old Brooks picked him up. He’s a gentleman, though—genuine goods—hall marked. Nothing o’ the Brummagem nine-carat there.’ Mr. Seth Preene had had a good deal of experience among ‘swells,’ both of the nine-carat Brummagem and of the eighteen-carat hall-marked, in the course of his adventurous career, and it hadn’t taken him long to sum up George Heritage’s character. ‘Swell out o’ luck, I should fancy,’ he said, as he walked along. Bess was sitting in the window, sewing, when a hansom cab rattled up to the door, and a tall dark gentleman, with a hook nose, ran up the steps and knocked. ‘How awkward!’ she exclaimed. ‘Here’s a visitor and Miss Duck’s out. I shall have to open the door.’ Bess had all a country girl’s fear of opening the door to London strangers. She had heard such tales and read such things in the newspapers about robberies and murders, that she saw a possible petty-larcenist in every tax-collector and a would-be assassin in every well-dressed person who came to inquire if Mr. Jones or Mr. Brown was an inmate of the house. But not having heard or read of robbers and murderers dashing up in hansom cabs, with a ready-made witness in the driver, Bess summoned up courage to answer the door to this visitor. Is Mrs. Smith within?’ asked the gentleman politely. Bess turned pale. Something had happened to George at the office, perhaps. Had he overworked himself and brought on a paralytic stroke? ‘I am Mrs. Smith,’ she stammered. ‘Is it anything about my husband?’ ‘Don’t alarm yourself, my dear madam,’ answered the gentleman politely; ‘I’ve only brought a message from him.’ Mr. Preene handed Mrs. Smith her husband’s hastily scribbled note. She read it with a vague feeling of alarm. ‘What does it mean?’ she stammered. ‘Oh, you are not keeping anything from me? He is not ill?’ ‘You alarm yourself needlessly, I assure you. It is only a matter of business. If you will put on your things at once and keep the appointment, you will find it is all right.’ ‘Are you in his office, sir?’ asked Bess, wondering what she should do with no one in the house. Here was the opportunity Preene was waiting for. ‘No,’ he answered; ‘I come from Grigg and Limpet’s—Mr. Duck’s employers. Smith and Co. have business with our firm, and that is where I met your husband. I was coming on to see Miss Duck, and he asked me to bring this note at the same time.’