Mr. Hurde groaned. "They have not been taken for nothing, you may be sure." "If they have been taken," persisted Isaac. "If they have been taken," assented Mr. Hurde. "I don't believe they have. From the sheer impossibility of anybody's getting to them, I don't believe it. And I shan't believe it, until every nook and corner between the four walls have been hunted over." "How do you account for their disappearance, then?" "I think they must have been moved inadvertently." "No one could so move them except Mr. Godolphin or Mr. George," rejoined Isaac. "Mr. Godolphin has not moved them," returned the clerk in a testy tone of reproof. "Mr. Godolphin is too accurate a man of business to move deeds inadvertently, or to move them and forget it the next moment. Mr. George may have done it. In searching for anything in the strong-room, if he has had more than one case open at once, he may have put these deeds back in their wrong place, or even brought them upstairs." Isaac considered for a minute, and then shook his head. "I should not think it," he answered. "Well, it is the only supposition I can come to," was the concluding remark of Mr. Hurde. "It is next to an impossibility, Mr. Godolphin excepted, that any one else can have got to the deeds." He was drawing on his gloves as he spoke, to depart. Isaac went out with him, but their roads lay different ways. Isaac turned towards All Souls' Rectory, and walked along in deep reverie. The Rectory hours were early, and he found them at tea: his mother, Rose, and Grace. Grace--Mrs. Akeman by her new name--was spending the evening with them with her baby. The Rector, who had gone out in the afternoon, had not yet returned. Isaac took his tea and then strolled into the garden. Rose and the baby were making a great noise, and Grace was helping them. It disturbed Isaac in his perplexed thought, and he made a mental vow that if he was ever promoted to a home of his own with babies in it, they should be confined to some top room, out of sight and hearing. By-and-by, when he was leaning over the gate, looking into the road, Mr. Hastings came up. Isaac told him that tea was over: but Mr. Hastings said he had taken a cup with one of his parishioners. He had apparently walked home quickly, and he lifted his hat and wiped his brow. "Glorious weather for the haymaking, Isaac!" "Is it?" returned Isaac abstractedly. "_Is it!_" repeated Mr. Hastings. "Where are your senses, boy?" Isaac laughed and roused himself. "I fear they were buried just then, sir. I was thinking of something that has happened at the Bank to-day. A loss has been discovered." "A loss?" repeated Mr Hastings. "A loss of what?" Isaac explained. He dropped his voice to a low tone, and spoke confidentially. They were leaning over the gate side by side. Mr. Hastings rather liked to take recreative moments there, exchanging a nod and a word with the passers-by. At this hour of the evening, however, the road was generally free.