Whether the butler ever learned that he had been robbed in his turn, who shall say? His immediate dismissal, after the funeral, seemed inevitable, and his oaken box was evidently placed by him, or by another, where no man heeded it. It still occupies a place amongst the law papers and may lie undisturbed for another century; and when Mr. Batchel put it there, without the promised record of events, he returned to the dining room, removed the Indian shade from the lamp, and, having put a lighted match to the edge, watched it slowly burn away. Only one thing remained. Mr. Batchel felt that it would give him some satisfaction to visit Mr. Mutcher. His address, as obtained from the District Miscellany of the Order of Gleaners, was 13, Albert Villas, Williamson Street, not a mile away from Stoneground. Mr. Mutcher, fortunately, was at home when Mr. Batchel called, and indeed opened the door with a copious apology for being without his coat. "I hope," said Mr. Batchel, "that you have overcome your indisposition of last Tuesday evening." "Don't mention it, your Reverence," said Mr. Mutcher, "my wife gave me such a talking to when I came 'ome that I was quite ashamed of myself--I say ashamed of myself." "She observed that you were unwell," said Mr. Batchel, "I am sure; but she could hardly blame you for that." By this time the visitor had been shewn into the parlour, and Mrs. Mutcher had appeared to answer for herself. "I really was ashamed, Sir," she said, "to think of the way Mutcher was talking, and a clergyman's 'ouse too. Mutcher is not a man, Sir, that takes anything, not so much as a drop; but he is wonderful partial to cold pork, which never does agree with him, and never did, at night in partic'lar." "It was the cold pork, then, that made you unwell?" asked Mr. Batchel. "It was, your Reverence, and it was not," Mr. Mutcher replied, "for internal discomfort there was none--I say none. But a little light-'eaded it did make me, and I could 'ave swore, your Reverence, saving your presence, that I saw an elderly gentleman carry a box into your room and put it down on the sheffoneer." "There was no one there, of course," observed Mr. Batchel. "No!" replied the D.P.G.M., "there was not; and the discrepancy was too much for me. I hope you will pardon the abruptness of my departure." "Certainly," said Mr. Batchel, "discrepancies are always embarrassing." "And you will allow me one day to resume our discourse upon the subject of National Insurance," he added, when he shewed his visitor to the door. "I shall not have much leisure," said Mr. Batchel, audaciously, taking all risks, "until the Greek Kalends." "Oh, I don't mind waiting till it does end," said Mr. Mutcher, "there is no immediate 'urry." "It's rather a long time," remarked Mr. Batchel. "Pray don't mention it," answered the Deputy Provincial Grand Master, in his best manner. "But when the time comes, perhaps you'll drop me a line." VIII. THE PLACE OF SAFETY.