Hamish Channing sat in his private room; his now; for, in the absence of Mr. Channing, Hamish was master. The insurance office was situated in Guild Street, a principal street, near to the Town Hall. It consisted of an entrance hall, two rooms, and a closet for hanging up coats, and for washing hands. The room on the left of the hall, as you entered, was the principal office; the room on the right, was the private room of Mr. Channing; now used, I say, by Hamish. The upper part of the house was occupied as a dwelling; the people renting it having nothing to do with the office. It was a large, roomy house, and possessed a separate entrance.

Hamish—gay, good-tempered, careless, though he was—ruled the office with a firm hand. There was no familiarity of manner there; the clerks liked him, but they had to defer to him and obey him. He was seated at his desk, deep in some accounts, on this same morning—the one mentioned in the last chapter—when one of the clerks entered, and said that Mr. Arthur Channing was asking to speak to him: for it was Mr. Hamish Channing’s good pleasure not to be interrupted indiscriminately, unless a clerk first ascertained whether he was at liberty to be seen. Possibly Hamish feared treachery might be abroad.

Arthur entered. Hamish pushed his books from him, and stretched himself. “Well, old fellow! you seem out of breath.”

“I came down at a pace,” rejoined Arthur. “College is just over. I say, Hamish, a disagreeable thing has happened at Galloway’s. I have never seen him put out as he is now.”

“Has his hair taken a change again, and come out a lovely rose colour?”

“I wish you would not turn everything into joke,” cried Arthur, who was really troubled, and the words vexed him. “You saw a letter on Jenkins’s desk last Friday—the afternoon, you know, that Yorke went off, and you remained while I went to college? There was a twenty-pound note in it. Well, the note has, in some mysterious manner, been abstracted from it.”

Hamish lifted his eyebrows. “What can Galloway expect, if he sends bank-notes in letters?”

“Yes, but this was taken before it left our office. Galloway says so. He sealed it with his private seal, and the letter arrived at his cousin’s intact, the seal unbroken—a pretty sure proof that the note could not have been in it when it was sealed.”

“Who took it out?” asked Hamish.

“That’s the question. There was not a soul near the place, that I can find out, except you and I. Yorke was away, Jenkins was away, and Mr. Galloway was away. He says some one must have come in while you were in the office.”

“Not so much as a ghost came in,” said Hamish.

“Are you sure, Hamish?”

“Sure! I am sure they did not, unless I dropped asleep. That was not an unlikely catastrophe to happen; shut up by myself in that dull office, amidst musty parchments, with nothing to do.”

“Hamish, can you be serious for once? This is a serious matter.”

“Mr. Martin Pope wants you, sir,” said the clerk again, interrupting at this juncture. Martin Pope’s face came in also, over the clerk’s shoulder. It was red, and he looked in a hurry.

“Hamish, he has had a letter, and is off by the half-past eleven train,” spoke Martin Pope, in some excitement. “You must rush up to the station, if you want a last word with him. You will hardly catch him, running your best.”

Up jumped Hamish, in excitement as great as his friend’s. He closed and locked the desk, caught his hat, and was speeding out of the office, when Arthur, to whom the words had been a puzzle, seized his arm.

“Hamish, did any one come in? It was Mr. Galloway sent me here to ascertain.”

“No, they did not. Should I not tell you if they had? Take care, Arthur. I must fly like the wind. Come away, Pope!”

Arthur walked back to Mr. Galloway’s. That gentleman was out. Roland Yorke was out. But Jenkins, upon whom the unfortunate affair had taken great hold, lifted his face to Arthur, his eyes asking the question that his tongue scarcely presumed to do.

“My brother says no one came in while he was here. It is very strange!”

“Mr. Arthur, sir, if I had repined at all at that accident, and felt it as a misfortune, how this would have reproved me!” spoke Jenkins, in his simple faith. “Why, sir, it must have come to me as a mercy, a blessing; to take me away out of this office at the very time.”

“What do you mean, Jenkins?”

“There’s no telling, sir, but Mr. Galloway might have suspected me. It is the first loss we have had since I have been here, all these years; and—”

“Nonsense!” interrupted Arthur. “You may as well fear that Mr. Galloway will suspect me, or Mr. Yorke.”

“No, sir, you and Mr. Yorke are different; you are gentlemen. Mr. Galloway would no more suspect you, than he would suspect himself. I am thankful I was absent.”

“Be easy, Jenkins,” smiled Arthur. “Absent or present, every one can trust you.”

Mr. Galloway did not return until nearly one o’clock. He went straight to his own room. Arthur followed him.

“I have seen Hamish, sir. He says no person whatever entered on Friday, while he was here alone.”

Mr. Galloway paused, apparently revolving the news. “Hamish must be mistaken,” he answered.

“He told me at the time, last Friday, that no one had been in,” resumed Arthur. “I asked the question when I returned from college, thinking people might have called on business. He said they had not done so; and he says the same now.”

“But look you here, Arthur,” debated Mr. Galloway, in a tone of reasoning. “I suspect neither you nor Yorke; indeed, as it seems, Yorke put himself out of suspicion’s way, by walking off; but if no one came to the office, and yet the note went, remember the position in which you place yourself. I say I don’t blame you, I don’t suspect you; but I do say that the mystery must be cleared up. Are you certain no person came into the office during your presence in it?”

“I am quite certain of that, sir. I have told you so.”

“And is Hamish equally certain—that no one entered while he was here alone?”

“He says so.” But Arthur’s words bore a sound of hesitation, which Mr. Galloway may or may not have observed. He would have spoken far more positively had Hamish not joked about it.

“‘Says’ will not do for me,” retorted Mr. Galloway. “I should like to see Hamish. You have nothing particular to finish before one o’clock; suppose you run up to Guild Street, and request him to come round this way, as he goes home to dinner? It will not take him two minutes out of his road.”

Arthur departed; choosing the nearest way to Guild Street. It led him through the street Hamish had been careful to avoid on account of a troublesome creditor. Arthur had no such fear. One o’clock struck as he turned into it. About midway down it, what was his astonishment at encountering Hamish! Not hurrying along, dreading to be seen, but flourishing leisurely at his ease, nodding to every one he knew, his sweet smile in full play, and his cane whirling circlets in the air.

“Hamish! I thought this was forbidden ground!”

“So it was, until a day or two ago,” laughed Hamish; “but I have managed to charm the enemy.”

He spoke in his usual light, careless, half-mocking style, and passed his arm within Arthur’s. At that moment a shopkeeper came to his door, and respectfully touched his hat to Hamish. Hamish nodded in return, and laughed again as he walked on with Arthur.

“That was the fiercest enemy in all this street of Philistines, Arthur. See how civil he is now.”

“How did you ‘charm’ him?”

“Oh, by a process known to myself. Did you come down on purpose to escort me home to dinner? Very polite of you!”

“I came to ask you to go round by Mr. Galloway’s office, and to call in and see him. He will not take your word at second hand.”

“Take my word about what?” asked Hamish.

“That the office had no visitors while you were in it the other day. That money matter grows more mysterious every hour.”

“Then I have not time to go round,” exclaimed Hamish, in—for him—quite an impatient accent. “I don’t know anything about the money or the letter. Why should I be bothered?”

“Hamish, you must go,” said Arthur, impressively. “Do you know that—so far as can be ascertained—no human being was in the office alone with the letter, except you and I. Were we to shun inquiry, suspicion might fall upon us.”

Hamish drew himself up haughtily, somewhat after the fashion of Roland Yorke. “What absurdity, Arthur! steal a twenty-pound note!” But when they came to the turning where two roads met, one of which led to Close Street, Hamish had apparently reconsidered his determination.

“I suppose I must go, or the old fellow will be offended. You can tell them at home that I shall be in directly; don’t let them wait dinner.”

He walked away quickly. Arthur pursued the path which would take him round the cathedral to the Boundaries. He bent his head in thought. He was lost in perplexity; in spite of what Mr. Galloway urged, with regard to the seal, he could not believe but that the money had gone safely to the post-office, and was stolen afterwards. Thus busied within himself, he had reached the elm-trees, when he ran up against Hopper, the bailiff. Arthur looked up, and the man’s features relaxed into a smile.

“We shut the door when the steed’s stolen, Mr. Arthur,” was his salutation. “Now that my pockets are emptied of what would have done no good to y............