Had Mr. Butterby received a cannon-ball on his head he could scarcely have experienced a greater shock of surprise, and for once made no reply. Bede Greatorex calmly repeated his injunction, in answer to the perplexed gaze cast on him. He wished nothing more done in the matter. "What on earth for?" cried Mr. Butterby. "I shall have to repose some confidence in you," pursued Mr. Bede Greatorex. "It will be safe, I presume?" Butterby quite laughed at the question. Safe! With him! It certainly would be. If the world only knew the secrets he held in his bosom! "And yet I can but trust you partially," resumed Bede Greatorex. "Not for my own sake; I have nothing to conceal, and should like things fully investigated; but for the sake of my father and family generally. Up to early post-time this morning I was more anxious for Jelf, that he might take the loss in hand, than ever my father was." Bede Greatorex paused. But there came no answering remark from his attentive listener, and he went on again. "I received a private note by this morning's post which altered the aspect of things, and gave me a clue to the real taker of the cheque. Only a very faint clue: a suspicion rather; and, that, vague and uncertain: but enough to cause me, in the doubt, to let the matter drop. In fact there is no choice left for me. We must put up with the loss of the money." Mr. Butterby sat with his hands on his knees, a favourite attitude of his: his head bent a little forward, his eyes fixed on the speaker. "I don't quite take you, Mr. Greatorex," said he. "You must speak out more plainly." Bede Greatorex paused in hesitation. This communication was distasteful, however necessary he might deem it, and he felt afraid of letting a dangerous word slip inadvertently. "The letter was obscure," he slowly said, "but, if I understand it aright, the proceeds of the cheque have found their way into the hands of one whom neither my father nor I would prosecute. To do so would bring great pain upon us both, perhaps injury. The pain to my father would be such that I dare not show him the letter, or tell him I have received it. For his sake, Mr. Butterby, you and I must both hush the matter up." Mr. Butterby felt very much at sea. A silent man by nature and habit, he sat still yet, and listened for more. "There will be no difficulty, I presume?" "Let us understand each other, sir. If I take your meaning correctly, it is this. Somebody is mixed up in the affair whose name it won't do to bring to light. One of the family, I suppose?" Mr. Butterby had to wait for an answer. Bede Greatorex paused ere he gave it. "If not an actual member of the family, it is one so nearly connected with it, that he may almost be called such." "It's a man, then?"