Maynadier shook his head. "No, I cannot; and neither can I think one of the men guilty. But, since you will do nothing in the matter, why think about it at all? The party breaks in the morning, you will lose no more." "It is not the loss that bothers me--it is the idea of having entertained a thief." "Are you quite sure your first count was correct? Might not the money have been abstracted, by the pirate who carried it away? Is not that the normal explanation?" Marbury was silent. "Moreover, were the bags tied as you left them?" "Precisely--at least, I saw no difference." "And when you detected the loss from the first bag, did not you examine the tying of the other?" "I did." "And could you not have noted any difference--and evidence of haste?" "There was no difference, and no evidence of haste. Everything was exactly as I left it, or it seemed to be." "Then it lies between your own error, a guest, or a servant. With two chances to one, in favor of the guest, I should acquit the guest--and, particularly, when it marches with your own desires." Marbury shook his head dubiously. "I do not want to suspect any one, and I will not. I would not prosecute even if I were sure of the thief; I would let him know that I knew, and do nothing more." "In that view of it, is your course quite right to your friends--to those who are not here, as well as those who are?" "You mean that I turn loose a thief among them?" "I do." "That does not bother me, Maynadier," said Marbury. "I have paid my loss, I am not lamenting. I have no friends to protect, except yourself, and you I have told." Maynadier made no reply. He knew Marbury's way, and the uselessness of arguing the general good, and the duty one owes to society. Marbury would scorn to suspect a guest of crime, would refuse to prosecute if detected, yet he would do nothing to protect his fellow men from being victimized. It was a queer philosophy; but Marbury had been taught in a hard school, and early learned the lesson of self alone. To him, the doctrine of personal responsibility applied only to himself, his family, and his friends--further, it did not extend; and there was no obligation to society whatever. So far as he was concerned, society could look out for itself. "I will tell you, if I observe anything," said Maynadier--"that is, if you wish it." "Yes, please," said Marbury; "but tell no one else." Maynadier encountered Miss Stirling in the hallway, with Herford in attendance. She met him with a glad smile, dismissed the Captain with a wave of her hand, and attached him, instead. And he suffered himself to be attached. If Judith would not have him, until it pleased her, he would, at least, entertain himself. He had no idea of making her jealous, but it was as well to take her advice, and let Miss Stirling give him some "instruction."