"Try to find out--quickly," continued Eldrick; "Then, make some excuse to go out--take papers somewhere, or something--and find if he's left his lodgings! I--I don't want to set the police on him. He was a decent fellow, once. See what you can make out, Pratt. In strict secrecy, you know---I do not want this to go further." Pratt could have danced for joy when he presently went out into the town. There would be no hue-and-cry after Parrawhite--none! Eldrick would accept the fact that Parrawhite had robbed him and flown--and Parrawhite would never be heard of--never mentioned again. It was the height of good luck for him. Already he had got rid of any small scraps of regret or remorse about the killing of his fellow-clerk. Why should he be sorry? The scoundrel had tried to murder him, thinking no doubt that he had the will on him. And he had not meant to kill him--what he had done, he had done in self-defence. No--everything was working most admirably--Parrawhite's previous bad record, Eldrick's carelessness and his desire to shut things up: it was all good. From that day forward, Parrawhite would be as if he had never been. Pratt was not even afraid of the body being discovered--though he believed that it would remain where it was for ever--for the probability was that the authorities would fill up that pit with earth and stones. But if it was brought to light? Why, the explanation was simple. Parrawhite, having robbed his employer, had been robbed himself, possibly by men with whom he had been drinking, and had been murdered in the bargain. No suspicion could attach to him, Pratt--he had nothing to fear--nothing! For the form of the thing, he called at the place whereat Parrawhite had lodged--they had seen nothing of him since the previous morning. They were poor, cheap lodgings in a mean street. The woman of the house said that Parrawhite had gone out as usual the morning before, and had never been in again. In order to find out all he could, Pratt asked if he had left much behind him in the way of belongings, and--just as he had expected--he learned that Parrawhite's personal property was remarkably limited: he possessed only one suit of clothes and not over much besides, said the landlady. "Is there aught wrong?" she asked, when Pratt had finished his questions. "Are you from where he worked?" "That's it," answered Pratt, "And he hasn't turned up this morning, and we think he's left the town. Owe you anything, missis?" "Nay, nothing much," she replied. "Ten shillings 'ud cover it, mister." Pratt gave her half a sovereign. It was not out of consideration for her, nor as a concession to Parrawhite's memory: it was simply to stop her from coming down to Eldrick & Pascoe's. "Well, I don't think you'll see him again," he remarked. "And I dare say you won't care if you don't." He turned away then, but before he had gone far, the woman called him back.