"Not to London," replied Maria. "He has gone with Captain St. Aubyn.

What made you think of London?"

"Isaac said Mrs. Pain thought he had gone to London," replied Thomas.

"It was some mistake, I suppose. But I wonder he should go out to-day for anything less urgent than necessity. The Bank wants him."

Maria was soon to be convinced that she need not have spoken so surely about George's having gone with Captain St. Aubyn. When she and Meta, with Margery--who would have thought herself grievously wronged had she not been one of the party to Ashlydyat--were starting, Thomas came out of the Bank parlour and accompanied them to the door. While standing there, the porter of the Bell Inn happened to pa.s.s, and Maria stopped him to inquire whether Captain St. Aubyn was better when he left.

"He was not at all well, ma'am," was the man's answer: "hardly fit to travel. He had been in a sort of fever all the night."

"And my master, I suppose, must take and sit up with him!" put in Margery, without ceremony, in a resentful tone.

"No, he didn't," said the man, looking at Margery, as if he did not understand her. "It was my turn to be up last night, and I was in and out of his room four or five times: but n.o.body stayed with him."

"But Mr. George G.o.dolphin went with Captain St. Aubyn this morning?"

said Thomas G.o.dolphin to the man.

"Went where, sir?"

"Started with him. On his journey."

"No, sir; not that I know of. I did not see him at the station."

Maria thought the man must be stupid. "Mr. George G.o.dolphin returned to the Bell between eleven and twelve last night," she explained. "And he intended to accompany Captain St. Aubyn this morning on his journey."

"Mr. George was at the Bell for a few minutes just after eleven, ma'am.

It was me that let him out. He did not come back again. And I don't think he was at the train this morning. I am sure he was not with Captain St. Aubyn, for I never left the captain till the train started."

Nothing further was said to the porter. He touched his hat, and went his way. Maria's face wore an air of bewilderment. Thomas smiled at her.

"I think it is you who must be mistaken, Maria," said he. "Depend upon it, Mrs. Pain is right: he has gone to London."

"But why should he go to London without telling me?" debated Maria. "Why say he was going with Captain St. Aubyn?"

Thomas could offer no opinion upon the subject. Miss Meta began to stamp her pretty shoes, and to drag her mamma by the hand. She was impatient to depart.

They chose the way by the lonely Ash-tree Walk. It was pleasant on a sunny day: sunshine scares away ghosts: and it was also the nearest. As they were turning into it, they met Charlotte Pain. Maria, simple-hearted and straightforward, never casting a suspicion to--to anything undesirable--spoke at once of the uncertainty she was in, as to her husband.

"Why do you think he has gone to London?" she asked.

"I know he has," replied Charlotte. "He told me he was going there."

"But he told me he was only going with Captain St. Aubyn," returned Maria, a doubtful sound in her voice.

"Oh, my dear, gentlemen do not find it always convenient to keep their wives _au courant_ of their little affairs."

Had it been salvation to her, Charlotte could not have helped launching that shaft at Maria G.o.dolphin. No; not even regard for George's secrets stopped her. She had done the mischief by speaking to Isaac, and this opportunity was too glorious to be missed, so she braved it out. Had Charlotte dared--for her own sake--she could have sent forth an unlimited number of poisoned arrows daily at George G.o.dolphin's wife: and she would have relished the sport amazingly. She sailed off: a curiously conspicuous smile of triumph in her eyes as they were bent on Maria, her parting movement being a graciously condescending nod to the child.

Maria was recalled to her senses by Margery. The woman was gazing after Charlotte with a dark, strange look: a look that Maria understood as little as she understood Charlotte's triumphant one. Margery caught the eye of her mistress upon her, and smoothed her face with a short cough.

"I'm just taking the pattern of her jacket, ma'am. It matches so bravely with the hat. I wonder what the world will come to next? The men will take to women's clothes, I suppose, now the women have taken to men's."

Mr. George--as you may remember--missed his train. And Mr. George debated whether he should order a special. Two reasons withheld him. One was, that his arriving at Prior's Ash by a special train might excite comment; the other, that a special train was expensive; and of late Mr.

George G.o.dolphin had not had any too much ready money to spare. He waited for the next ordinary train, and that deposited him at Prior's Ash at seven o'clock.

He proceeded home at once. The Bank was closed for the evening. Pierce admitted his master, who went into the dining-room. No sign of dinner; no signs of occupation.

"My mistress is at Ashlydyat, sir. She went up this morning with Miss Meta and Margery. You would like dinner, sir, would you not?"

"I don't much care for it," responded George. "Anything will do. Has Mr.

G.o.dolphin been at the Bank to-day?"

"Yes, sir. He has been here all day, I think?"

George went into the Bank parlour, then to other of the business rooms.

He was looking about for letters: he was looking at books: altogether he seemed to be busy. Presently he came out and called Pierce.

"I want a light."

Pierce brought it. "I shall be engaged here for half an hour," said his master. "Should any one call, I cannot be disturbed: under any pretence, you understand."

"Very well, sir," replied Pierce, as he withdrew. And George locked the intervening door between the house and the Bank, and took out the key.

He turned into a pa.s.sage and went diving down a few stairs, the light in his hand; selected one of several keys which he had brought with him, and opened the door of a dry-vaulted room. It was the strong-room of the Bank, secure and fireproof.

"Safe number three, on right," he read, consulting a bit of paper on which he had copied down the words in pencil upstairs. "Number three?

Then it must be this one."

Taking another of the keys, he put it into the lock. Turned it, and turned it, and--could not open the lock. George s.n.a.t.c.hed it out, and read the label. "Key of safe number two."

"What an idiot I am! I have brought the wrong key!"

He went up again, grumbling at his stupidity, opened the cupboard where the keys were kept, and looked for the right one. Number three was the one he wanted. And number three was not there.

George stood transfixed. _He_ had custody of the keys. No other person had the power of approaching the place they were guarded in: except his brother. Had the Bank itself disappeared, George G.o.dolphin could not have been much more astonished than at the disappearance of this key.

Until this moment, this discovery of its absence, he would have been ready to swear that there it was, before all the judges in the land.

He tossed the keys here; he tossed them there; little heeding how he misplaced them. George became convinced that the Fates were dead against him, in spiriting away, just because he wanted it, this particular key.

That no one could have touched it except Thomas, he knew: and why he should have done so, George could not imagine. He could not imagine where it was, or could be, at the present moment. Had Thomas required it to visit the safe, he was far too exact, too methodical, not to return it to its place again.

A quarter of an hour given to hunting, to thinking--and the thinking was not entirely agreeable thinking--and George gave it up in despair.

"I must wait until to-morrow," was his conclusion. "If Thomas has carried it away with him, through forgetfulness, he will find it out and replace it then."

He was closing the cupboard door, when something arrested it on its lower shelf, so that it would not close. Bringing the light inside he found--the missing key. George himself must have dropped it there on first opening the cupboard. With a suppressed shout of delight he s.n.a.t.c.hed it up. A shout of delight! Better that George G.o.dolphin had broken into a wail of lamentation! Another moment, and he was going down the stairs to the strong-room, key in hand.

Safe number three, on the right, was unlocked without trouble now. In that safe there were some tin boxes, on one of which was inscribed "Lord Averil." Selecting another and a smaller key from those he held, George opened this.

It was full of papers. George looked them rapidly over with the quick eye of one accustomed to the work, and drew forth one of them. Rather a bulky parcel, some writing upon it. This he thrust into his pocket, and began putting the rest in order. Had a mirror been held before him at that moment, it would have reflected a face utterly colourless. He returned to the office.