Each of them, dated that morning, proved to be from a separate firm of solicitors in London and contained a few brief words of inquiry why Mr. Arthur Channing had not kept the appointment with them on the previous day. Was Arthur _lost_, then? Hamish felt startled to tremor. As to poor Roland, he could only stare in helpless wonder, and openly lament that he had been such a wicked jackanapes as to attribute unkindness to Arthur. "When I knew in my heart he was the best and truest man, the bravest gentleman the world ever produced, Hamish. Oh! I am a nice one." Remaining at the hotel would not help them, for the waiter could tell no more than he had told. Hamish pointed to his address on the card already given, and they walked away up Norfolk Street in silence. Roland broke it as they turned into the Strand, his low voice taking a tone of dread. "I say, Hamish! Arthur had a lot of money about him." "A lot of money!" repeated Hamish. "He had. He brought it up from old Galloway. You--you--don't think he could have been murdered for it?" "Hush, Roland!" "Oh, well--But the roughs would not mind doing such a thing at Port Natal." CHAPTER XXIX. RESTLESS WANDERINGS. The commotion was great. Six days had elapsed since Arthur Channing's singular disappearance, and he had never been heard of. Six days! In a case of this nature, six days to anxious friends will seem almost like six weeks. Nay, and longer. And, while on the topic, it may be well and right to state that these circumstances, this loss, occurred just as written; or about to be written; and are not a réchauffé from a dish somewhat recently served to the public in real life. Arthur Channing arrived at the Euston Square Station on a certain evening already told of, and was met there by Roland Yorke. Later, soon after eight, he went to the private hotel in Norfolk Street, in which a room had been engaged for him, and where he had stayed before. Roland saw him go in: the waiter, Binns, received him, and left him in the coffee-room reading his letters. Upon the waiter's entering the room nearly half an hour subsequently, he found it empty. A small parcel and an umbrella belonging to him were there, but he himself was not. Naturally the waiter concluded that he had but stepped out temporarily. He was mistaken, however. From that moment nothing had been seen or heard of Arthur Channing.