“How came you not to tell me when we were speaking of Roland Yorke’s absence, that he remained away all the afternoon?” questioned Mr. Galloway. Arthur was silent. He glanced once at Roland. “Well?” cried Mr. Galloway. “It was better for him to tell you himself, sir; as I conclude he has now done.” “The fact is, you are two birds of a feather,” stormed Mr. Galloway, who, when once roused, which was not often, would say anything that came uppermost, just or unjust. “The one won’t tell tales of the other. If the one set my office on fire, and then said it was the cat did it, the other would stick to it. Is it true, sir, that he was not at the office during my absence from it on Friday afternoon?” he continued to Arthur. “That is true.” “Then who can have taken the money?” uttered Mr. Galloway, speaking what was uppermost in his thoughts. “Which is as much as to say that I took it,” burst from haughty Roland. “Mr. Galloway, I--” “Keep quiet, Roland Yorke,” interrupted that gentleman. “I do not suspect you of taking it. I did suspect that you might have got some idlers in here, _mauvais sujets_, you know, for you call plenty of them friends; but, if you were absent yourself, that suspicion falls to the ground. Again I say, who can have taken the money?” “It is an utter impossibility that Yorke could have taken it, even were he capable of such a thing,” generously spoke Arthur. “From the time you left the office yourself, sir, until after the letters were taken out of it to be posted, he was away from it.” “Just like him!” exclaimed Mr. Galloway. “It must have been done while your brother Hamish was waiting in the office. We must ascertain from him who came in.” “He told me no one came in,” repeated Arthur. “Rubbish!” testily observed Mr. Galloway. “Some one must have come in; some one with light fingers, too! the money could not go without hands. You are off to college now, I suppose, Channing?” “Yes, sir.” “When service is over, just go down as far as your brother’s office, and ask him about it.” “He is as obstinate as any old adder!” exclaimed Roland Yorke to Arthur, when they left Mr. Galloway alone. “The only possible way in which it can have gone, is through that post-office. The men have forked it; as they did Lady Augusta’s pills.” “He says it was not the post-office,” mused Arthur. “He said--as I understood--that the telegraphic despatch proved to him that it had been taken out here.” “What an idiot you are!” ejaculated Roland. “How _could_ a despatch tell him who took it, or who did not?--unless it was a despatch from those spirit-rappers--mesmerists, or whatever they call themselves. They profess to show you who your grandmother was, if you don’t know!” Roland laughed as he spoke. Arthur was not inclined for joking; the affair perplexed him in no ordinary degree. “I wish Mr. Galloway would mention his grounds for thinking the note was taken before it went to the post!” he said.