The letter bore the London post-mark. There was not a doubt that it had been there posted. That betrayed nothing. Arthur, or any one else, could have a letter posted there, if wishing to do it. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” thought Mr. Galloway. But again, where was Arthur Channing to procure twenty pounds from? Mr. Galloway did not think that he could procure this sum from anywhere, or that he possessed, himself, a twentieth part of it. So far the probability was against Arthur’s being the author. Mr. Galloway quite lost himself in conjectures. Why should it have been addressed to his residence, and not to the office? He had been expecting a letter from one, that afternoon, who always did address to his residence: and that letter, it appeared, had not arrived. However, that had nothing to do with this. Neither paper nor writing afforded any clue to the sender, and the latter was palpably disguised. He called in Roland Yorke, for the purpose of putting to him a few useless questions--as a great many of us do when we are puzzled--questions, at any rate, that could throw no light upon the main subject. “What did John say when he brought this letter?” “Only what I told you, sir. That you expected a letter addressed to the house, and ordered him to bring it round.” “But _this_ is not the letter I expected,” tapping it with his finger, and looking altogether so puzzled and astonished that Roland stared in his turn. “It’s not my fault,” returned he. “Shall I run round, sir, and ask John about it?” “No,” testily answered Mr. Galloway. “Don’t be so fond of running round. This letter--There’s some one come into the office,” he broke off. Roland turned with alacrity, but very speedily appeared again, on his best behaviour, bowing as he showed in the Dean of Helstonleigh. Mr. Galloway rose, and remained standing. The dean entered upon the business which had brought him there, a trifling matter connected with the affairs of the chapter. This over, Mr. Galloway took up the letter and showed it to him. The dean read it, and looked at the bank-note. “I cannot quite decide in what light I ought to take it, sir,” remarked Mr. Galloway. “It either refutes the suspicion of Arthur Channing’s guilt, or else it confirms it.” “In what way confirms it? I do not understand you,” said the dean. “It may have come from himself, Mr. Dean. A wheel within a wheel.” The dean paused to revolve the proposition, and then shook his head negatively. “It appears to me to go a very great way towards proving his innocence,” he observed. “The impression upon my own mind has been, that it was not he who took it--as you may have inferred, Mr. Galloway, by my allowing him to retain his post in the cathedral.” “But, sir, if he is innocent, who is guilty?” continued Mr. Galloway, in a tone of remonstrance.