The investigation served to bring to light one singular fact which puzzled Mr. Avison and John Brancker not a little. Mr. Hazeldine's private ledger was missing, as were also a number of check slips on which the undercashiers entered the numbers of the notes which they paid over at the close of each day's business. "It certainly looks," said Mr. Avison, "as if the thief or thieves were intimately acquainted with the ins and outs of our business, or else why should they have taken away with them the only evidence by means of which we should have been able to trace the missing notes?" But John Brancker could only profess himself to be as utterly puzzled over the affair as Mr. Avison was. Although Mr. Avison had read the evidence taken at the inquest, he had hitherto attached no importance to the fact that certain portions of it seemed to point the finger of suspicion at John Brancker. John was such an old and tried servant, and he had such implicit confidence in his integrity, that he had only smiled to himself, as he thought how wide of the truth people are often led by circumstantial evidence. But now the case began to put on a very different complexion. A grave suspicion was taking root in his mind, that no one but a man thoroughly acquainted with the inner working of the Bank could be at the bottom of the mystery. It troubled him more even than the loss of the money troubled him, to think that his faith in human nature should be so rudely shaken. But Mr. Avison was by nature a very reticent man, a man who thought much but said little, and John had not the faintest notion of the feelings at work in his employer's mind. The Banker said to himself that some further evidence would probably be forthcoming at the adjourned inquest, and that he could afford to wait till then. Obed Sweet was another person who was considerably troubled in the article he called his mind. That Mr. Hazeldine had come by his death between half-past ten and half-past eleven o'clock, everybody seemed fully agreed. Yet was Obed quite aware that during the greater portion of the time in question, he had been asleep in his room downstairs. This it was that troubled him. If he had only kept awake, as he ought to have done, might he not have heard someone come in, or go out, or have been alarmed by the noise of a struggle, or by some cry for help? Unfortunately, he had heard nothing. He tried to argue himself into the belief that he was a remarkably light sleeper. "Why, a mouse could hardly scamper across the floor without my hearing it," he said to himself again and again. Still he wished most fervently that he had not fallen asleep on that fatal night. Meanwhile, the needful authority having been granted by the Coroner, Mr. Hazeldine's funeral took place. It was attended by nearly half the population of Ashdown, either as followers or onlookers. A day or two later, the jury met again for the adjourned inquest. CHAPTER XI. THE VERDICT.