At eleven o'clock the party broke up: late hours were not in fashion at the Vicarage. As Philip wished Maria goodnight, he whispered that he should be with her on the morrow: and the warm pressure of his hand and the love-light that sat in his eyes were more eloquent than any words. Dr. Downes was fumbling with the sleeves and buttons of his overcoat in the hall: his own man generally did these things for him. "Let me help you, Doctor," said Philip: and buttoned the coat deftly. "Thank you, lad," returned the Doctor. "Would you like a lift as far as I go?" Philip thought he would, and got into the roomy old brougham, and chatted soberly with the old physician on the way. He got out of it when they came to the side-turning that led to the Doctor's house, said goodnight, and strode onwards. Dr. Downes took snuff. A bad habit, perhaps, and one less general now than in the years gone by. He took it out of a gold box, one of great value, presented to him by a grateful patient, Lord Lytham: and this box, being rather proud of it, the old Doctor was fond of exhibiting in company. The first thing he did, arrived at his own fireside, his coat and comforter off, was to put his hand in his pocket for his snuffbox. It was not there! Had the Doctor found himself not to be there, he could hardly have felt more surprise. That he had not dropped it in the carriage, he knew, for he had never at all unbuttoned his overcoat: still he sent out and had it searched; and made assurance doubly sure. "Well, this is a strange thing!" ejaculated the Doctor. "When did you have it last, sir?" asked Granby, his faithful servant of many years. "A few minutes before I left the Vicarage," said Dr. Downes, after pausing to think. "The Vicar took a pinch with me; we were standing before the fire; and I distinctly recollect putting the box back into my pocket. After that, I shook hands with one or two people, and came away." "Suppose I send Mark to the Vicarage, sir?" suggested Granby. "He'd run there in no time: they'll not be gone to bed." "It is sure not to be there," said the Doctor testily, as Granby came back from despatching the boy. "How could it leave my pocket after I had put it there?" "Perhaps it did, sir--when you were getting on your coat to come away. Who knows? You are not clever at putting on that coat, sir--if you'll forgive my saying so--and turn and twist about like anything over it." "Young Cleeve helped me. And the coat's tight and awkward. I suppose--I suppose," added Dr. Downes, slowly and thoughtfully, "that Cleeve did not take the snuffbox to play me a trick?" "Well, sir, I should not think he would play such a trick as that, though he is a gay and careless young spark." "Oh, you think him so, do you, Granby?"