“There seems little doubt on that head,” said Heffernan; “he changed three thousand pounds in notes for gold at Ball's after the bank was closed on Tuesday, and then went over to Finlay's, where he said he had a lodgment to make. He left his great-coat behind him, and never came back for it. I found that paper--it was the only one--in the breast pocket.” “What is it? what is it?” repeated the old man, clutching eagerly at it. “Nothing of any consequence,” said Heffernan, smiling; and he handed him a printed notice, setting forth that the United States barque, the “Congress,” of five hundred tons burden, would sail for New York on Wednesday, the 16th instant, at an hour before high water. “That looked suspicious, didn't it?” said Heffernan; “and on inquiry I found he had drawn largely out of, not only the banks in town, but from the provincial ones also. Now, that note addressed to yourself, for instance--” “What note?” said Hickman, starting round as his face became pale as ashes; “give it to me--give it at once!” But Heffernan held it firmly between his fingers, and merely shook his head, while, with a gentle smile, he said, “The banker who intrusted this letter to my hands was well aware of what importance it might prove in a court of justice, should this disastrous event demand a legal investigation.” The old doctor listened with breathless interest to every word of this speech, and merely muttered at the close the words, “The note, the note!” “I have promised to restore the paper to the banker,” said Heffernan. “So you shall,--let me read it,” cried Hickman, eagerly; and he clutched from Heffernan's fingers the document, before the other had seemingly determined whether he would yield to his demand. “There it is for you, sir,” said the doctor; “make what you can of it;” and he threw the paper across the table. The note contained merely the words, “Ten thousand pounds.” There was no signature or any date, but the handwriting was Gleeson's. “Ten thousand pounds,” repeated Heffernan, slowly; “a large sum!” “So it is,” chimed in Hickman, with a grin of self-satisfaction, while a consciousness that the mystery, whatever it might be, was beyond the reach of Heffernan's skill, gave him a look of excessive cunning, which sat strangely on features so old and time-worn.