“The bishop himself came,” said poor Jenkins, tears of gratitude rising to his eyes in the intensity of his emotion. “He did, indeed, sir. He came on the Friday, and groped his way up our dark stairs (for very dark they are when Mr. Harper’s sitting-room door is shut), and sat down by my bedside, and chatted, just as plainly and familiarly as if he had been no better than one of my own acquaintances. Mr. Arthur Channing found him there when he came with your kind message, sir.” “So I heard,” said Mr. Galloway. “You and the bishop were both in the same boat. I cannot, for my part, get at the mystery of that locking-up business.” “The bishop as good as said so, sir--that we had both been in it. I was trying to express my acknowledgments to his lordship for his condescension, apologizing for my plain bedroom, and the dark stairs, and all that, and saying, as well as I knew how, that the like of me was not worthy of a visit from him, when he laughed, in his affable way, and said, ‘We were both caught in the same trap, Jenkins. Had I been the one to receive personal injury, I make no doubt that you would have come the next day to inquire after me.’ What a great thing it is, to be blessed with a benevolent heart, like the Bishop of Helstonleigh’s!” Arthur Channing came in and interrupted the conversation. He was settling to his occupation, when Mr. Galloway drew his attention; in an abrupt and angry manner, as it struck Arthur. “Channing, you told me, yesterday, that you posted that letter for Ventnor on Friday.” “So I did, sir.” “It has been robbed.” “Robbed!” returned Arthur, in surprise, scarcely realizing immediately the meaning of the word. “You know that it contained money--a twenty-pound note. You saw me put it in.” “Yes--I--know--that,” hesitated Arthur. “What are you stammering at?” In good truth, Arthur could not have told, except that he hesitated in surprise. He had cast his thoughts into the past, and was lost in them. “The fact is, you did _not_ post the letters yourself,” resumed Mr. Galloway. “You gave them to somebody else to post, in a fit of idleness, and the result is, that the letter was rifled, and I have lost twenty pounds.” “Sir, I assure you, that I did post them myself,” replied Arthur, with firmness. “I went straight from this door to the post-office. In coming back, I called on Jenkins”--turning to him--“as you bade me, and afterwards I returned here. I mentioned to you, then, sir, that the bishop was with Jenkins.” Mr. Jenkins glanced up from his desk, a streak of colour illumining his thin cheek, half hidden by the black handkerchief. “I was just saying, sir, to Mr. Galloway, that you found his lordship at my bedside,” he said to Arthur. “Has the note been taken out of the letter, sir?” demanded Arthur. “Did the letter reach its destination without it?”