Neale went back to the outer room. Things went on, but the missing manager did not come in by the 10.45, and nothing had been heard or seen of him at noon, when Patten went to get his dinner. Nor had anything been seen or heard at one o'clock, when Patten came back, and it became Shirley and Neale's turn to go out. And thereupon arose a difficulty. In the ordinary course the two elder clerks would have left for an hour and the manager would have been on duty until they returned. But now the manager was not there. "You go," said Neale to Shirley. "I'll wait. Perhaps Mr. Joseph will come out." Shirley went--but neither of the partners emerged from the private room. As a rule they both went across to the Scarnham Arms Hotel at half-past one for lunch--a private room had been kept for them at that old-world hostelry from time immemorial--but now they remained within their parlour, apparently interned from their usual business world. And Neale had a very good idea of what they were doing. The bank's strong room was entered from that parlour--Gabriel and Joseph were examining and checking its contents. The knowledge distressed Neale beyond measure, and it was only by a resolute effort that he could give his mind to his duties. Two o'clock had gone, and Shirley had come back, before the bell rang again. Neale went into the private room and knew at once that something had happened. Gabriel stood by his desk, which was loaded with papers and documents; Joseph leaned against a sideboard, whereon was a decanter of sherry and a box of biscuits; he had a glass of wine in one hand, and a half-nibbled biscuit in the other. The smell of the sherry--fine old brown stuff, which the clerks were permitted to taste now and then, on such occasions as the partners' birthdays--filled the room. "Neale," said Gabriel, "have you been out to lunch? No? Take a glass of wine and eat a biscuit--we shall all have to put off our lunches for an hour or so." Neale obeyed--more because he was under order than because he was hungry. He was too much bothered, too full of vague fears, to think of his midday dinner. He took the glass which Joseph handed to him, and picked a couple of biscuits out of the box. And at the first sip Gabriel spoke again. "Neale!" he said. "You've been here five years, so one can speak confidentially. There's something wrong--seriously wrong. Securities are missing. Securities representing--a lot!" Neale's face flushed as if he himself had been charged with abstracting those securities. His hand shook as he set down his glass, and he looked helplessly from one partner to another. Joseph merely shook his head, and poured out another glass of sherry for himself: Gabriel shook his head, too, but with a different expression. "We don't know exactly how things are," he continued. "But there's the fact--on a superficial examination. And--Horbury! Of all men in the world, Horbury!"