We will now go back to Mr. Toogood as he started for Silverbridge, on the receipt of Mrs. Arabin\'s telegram from Venice. "I gave cheque to Mr. Crawley. It was part of a sum of money. Will write to Archdeacon Grantly to-day, and return home at once." That was the telegram which Mr. Toogood received at his office, and on receiving which he resolved that he must start to Barchester immediately. "It isn\'t certainly what you may call a paying business," he said to his partner, who continued to grumble; "but it must be done all the same. If it don\'t get into the ledger in one way it will in another." So Mr. Toogood started for Silverbridge, having sent to his house in Tavistock Square for a small bag, a clean shirt, and a toothbrush. And as he went down in the railway-carriage, before he went to sleep, he turned it all over in his mind. "Poor devil! I wonder whether any man ever suffered so much before. And as for that woman,—it\'s ten thousand pities that she should have died before she heard it. Talk of heart-complaint; she\'d have had a touch of heart-complaint if she had known this!" Then, as he was speculating how Mrs. Arabin could have become possessed of the cheque, he went to sleep.

He made up his mind that the first person to be seen was Mr. Walker, and after that he would, if possible, go to Archdeacon Grantly. He was at first minded to go at once out to Hogglestock; but when he remembered how very strange Mr. Crawley was in all his ways, and told himself professionally that telegrams were but bad sources of evidence on which to depend for details, he thought that it would be safer if he were first to see Mr. Walker. There would be very little delay. In a day or two the archdeacon would receive his letter, and in a day or two after that Mrs. Arabin would probably be at home.

It was late in the evening before Mr. Toogood reached the house of the Silverbridge solicitor, having the telegram carefully folded in his pocket; and he was shown into the dining-room while the servant took his name up to Mr. Walker. The clerks were gone, and the office was closed; and persons coming on business at such times,—as they often did come to that house,—were always shown into the parlour. "I don\'t know whether master can see you to-night," said the girl; "but if he can, he\'ll come down."

When the card was brought up to Mr. Walker he was sitting alone with his wife. "It\'s Toogood," said he; "poor Crawley\'s cousin."

"I wonder whether he has found anything out," said Mrs. Walker. "May he not come up here?" Then Mr. Toogood was summoned into the drawing-room, to the maid\'s astonishment; for Mr. Toogood had made no toilet sacrifices to the goddess or grace who presides over evening society in provincial towns,—and presented himself with the telegram in his hand. "We have found out all about poor Crawley\'s cheque," he said, before the maid-servant had closed the door. "Look at that," and he handed the telegram to Mr. Walker. The poor girl was obliged to go, though she would have given one of her ears to know the exact contents of that bit of paper.

"Walker, what is it?" said his wife, before Walker had had time to make the contents of the document his own.

"He got it from Mrs. Arabin," said Toogood.

"No!" said Mrs. Walker. "I thought that was it all along."

"It\'s a pity you didn\'t say so before," said Mr. Walker.

"So I did; but a lawyer thinks that nobody can ever see anything but himself;—begging your pardon, Mr. Toogood, but I forgot you were one of us. But, Walker, do read it." Then the telegram was read. "I gave cheque to Mr. Crawley. It was part of a sum of money,"—with the rest of it. "I knew it would come out," said Mrs. Walker. "I was quite sure of it."

"But why the mischief didn\'t he say so?" said Walker.

"He did say that he got it from the dean," said Toogood.

"But he didn\'t get it from the dean; and the dean clearly knew nothing about it."

"I\'ll tell you what it is," said Mrs. Walker; "it has been some private transaction between Mr. Crawley and Mrs. Arabin, which the dean was to know nothing about; and so he wouldn\'t tell. I must say I honour him."

"I don\'t think it has been that," said Walker. "Had he known all through that it had come from Mrs. Arabin, he would never have said that Mr. Soames gave it to him, and then that the dean gave it him."

"The truth has been that he has known nothing about it," said Toogood; "and we shall have to tell him."

At that moment Mary Walker came into the room, and Mrs. Walker could not constrain herself. "Mary, Mr. Crawley is all right. He didn\'t steal the cheque. Mrs. Arabin gave it to him."

"Who says so? How do you know? Oh, dear; I am so happy, if it\'s true." Then she saw Mr. Toogood and, curtseyed.

"It is quite true, my dear," said Mr. Walker. "Mr. Toogood has had a message by the wires from Mrs. Arabin at Venice. She is coming home at once, and no doubt everything will be put right. In the meantime, it may be a question whether we should not hold our tongues. Mr. Crawley himself, I suppose, knows nothing of it yet?"

"Not a word," said Toogood.

"Papa, I must tell Miss Prettyman," said Mary.

"I should think that probably all Silverbridge knows it by this time," said Mrs. Walker, "because Jane was in the room when the announcement was made. You may be sure that every servant in the house has been told." Mary Walker, not waiting for any further command from her father, hurried out of the room to convey the secret to her special circle of friends.

It was known throughout Silverbridge that night, and indeed it made so much commotion that it kept many people for an hour out of their beds. Ladies who were not in the habit of going out late at night without the fly from the "George and Vulture," tied their heads up in their handkerchiefs, and hurried up and down the street to tell each other that the great secret had been discovered, and that in truth Mr. Crawley had not stolen the cheque. The solution of the mystery was not known to all,—was known on that night only to the very select portion of the aristocracy of Silverbridge to whom it was communicated by Mary Walker or Miss Anne Prettyman. For Mary Walker, when earnestly entreated by Jane, the parlour-maid, to tell her something more of the great news, had so far respected her father\'s caution as to say not a word about Mrs. Arabin. "Is it true, Miss Mary, that he didn\'t steal it?" Jane asked imploringly. "It is true. He did not steal it." "And who did, Miss Mary? Indeed I won\'t tell anybody." "Nobody. But don\'t ask any more questions, for I won\'t answer them. Get me my hat at once, for I want to go up to Miss Prettyman\'s." Then Jane got Miss Walker\'s hat, and immediately afterwards scampered into the kitchen with the news. "Oh, law, cook, it\'s all come out! Mr. Crawley\'s as innocent as the unborn babe. The gentleman upstairs what\'s just come, and was here once before,—for I know\'d him immediate,—I heard him say so. And master said so too."

"Did master say so his own self?" asked the cook.

"Indeed he did; and Miss Mary told me the same this moment."

"If master said so, then there ain\'t a doubt as they\'ll find him innocent. And who took\'d it, Jane?"

"Miss Mary says as nobody didn\'t steal it."

"That\'s nonsense, Jane. It stands to reason as somebody had it as hadn\'t ought to have had it. But I\'m as glad as anything as how that poor reverend gent \'ll come off;—I am. They tells me it\'s weeks sometimes before a bit of butcher\'s meat finds its way into his house." Then the groom and the housemaid and the cook, one after another, took occasion to slip out of the back-door, and poor Jane, who had really been the owner of the news, was left alone to answer the bell.

Miss Walker found the two Miss Prettymans sitting together over their accounts in the elder Miss Prettyman\'s private room. And she could see at once by signs which were not unfamiliar to her that Miss Anne Prettyman was being scolded. It often happened that Miss Anne Prettyman was scolded, especially when the accounts were brought out upon the table. "Sister, they are illegible," Mary Walker heard, as the servant opened the door for her.

"I don\'t think it\'s quite so bad as that," said Miss Anne, unable to restrain her defence. Then, as Mary entered the room, Miss Prettyman the elder laid her hands down on certain books and papers as though to hide them from profane eyes.

"I am glad to see you, Mary," said Miss Prettyman, gravely.

"I\'ve brought such a piece of news," said Mary. "I knew you\'d be glad to hear it, so I ventured to disturb you."

"Is it good news?" said Anne Prettyman.

"Very good news. Mr. Crawley is innocent."

Both the ladies sprung on to their legs. Even Miss Prettyman herself jumped up on to her legs. "No!" said Anne. "Your father has discovered it?" said Miss Prettyman.

"Not exactly that. Mr. Toogood has come down from London to tell him. Mr. Toogood, you know, is Mr. Crawley\'s cousin; and he is a lawyer, like papa." It may be observed that ladies belonging to the families of solicitors always talk about lawyers, and never about attorneys or barristers.

"And does Mr. Toogood say that Mr. Crawley is innocent?" asked Miss Prettyman.

"He has heard it by a message from Mrs. Arabin. But you mustn\'t mention this. You won\'t, please, because papa has asked me not. I told him that I should tell you." Then, for the first time, the frown passed away entirely from Miss Prettyman\'s face, and the papers and account-books were pushed aside, as being of no moment. The news had been momentous enough to satisfy her. Mary continued her story almost in a whisper. "It was Mrs. Arabin who sent the cheque to Mr. Crawley. She says so herself. So that makes Mr. Crawley quite innocent. I am so glad."

"But isn............