Bede Greatorex hesitated. "I cannot say I have. It would be so wrong, you know, to cast a doubt on either, when there is not sufficient cause; nothing but what may be a passing, foundationless fancy." "Speak out, Mr. Bede Greatorex. It's all in the day's work. If there is really nothing, it won't hurt him; if there is, I may be able to follow it up. Perhaps it's one of the two gentlemen?" "If it be any one of the four, Mr. Hurst." The detective so far forgot his good manners as to break into a low whistle. "Mr. Hurst! or Mr. Yorke, do you mean?" he cried, in his surprise. "Not Mr. Yorke, certainly. Why should you think of him?" "Oh, for nothing," carelessly answered Butterby. "Hurst seems an upright young man, sir." "It is so trifling a doubt I have of him, the lifting of a straw, as may be said, that I should be sorry to think he is not upright. Still, I have reason for deciding that he is the most likely, of the four, for doubt to attach to." At that moment, the gentleman in question interrupted them--Josiah Hurst; bringing a message to Mr. Bede Greatorex. An important client was waiting to see him. Mr. Butterby took a more curious look at the young man's countenance than he had ever done in the old days at Helstonleigh. "The lawyer's wrong," thought he to himself. "He is no thiever of cheques, he isn't." "I shall be at liberty in one minute, Mr. Hurst. Shut the door. You understand?" he added in a low tone to the detective, as they stood up together in parting. "All that I 'have said to you must be kept secret; doubly secret from my father. He must suppose you at work, investigating; whereas, in point of fact, _the thing must drop_. Only, if you can gain any private information, bring it to me." Mr. Butterby answered by one of his emphatic nods. "You see there's nothing come up yet about that other thing," he said. "What other thing?" "The death of Mr. Ollivera." "And not likely to," returned Bede Greatorex. "That was over and done with at the time." "Just my opinion," said the detective. "Jenner was his clerk in chambers.". "Yes. A faithful little fellow." "Looks it. Who's the other one--Mr. Brown?" "I can only tell you that he is Mr. Brown; I know nothing of his family. We have had him three or four years." "Had a good character with him, I suppose? Knew where he'd been, and all that?" "Undoubtedly. My father is particular. Why do you ask?" "Only because he is the only one in your room that I don't know something of. Good morning, Mr. Bede Greatorex." Bede shut the door, and Mr. Butterby walked away, observing things indoors and out with a keen eye, while he ruminated on what he had heard. Sundry reports, connected with the domestic life of Bede Greatorex, were familiar to his comprehensive ears.