“Edward Tredgold was in here alone this afternoon,” she said, significantly.

“No, no,” said the captain, warmly.  “Whoever has got it, it isn’t Edward Tredgold.  I expect the talk about it has leaked out and somebody has slipped in and taken it.  I ought to have been more careful.”

“He started when you said that you had burnt it,” persisted Miss Drewitt, unwilling to give up a theory so much to her liking.  “You mark my words if his father and Mr. Chalk and that Mr. Stobell don’t go away for a holiday soon.  Good-night.”

She kissed him affectionately under the left eye—­a place overlooked by his beard—­and went upstairs again.  The captain filled his pipe and, resuming his chair, sat in a brown study until the clock of the neighbouring church struck two.

It was about the same time that Mr. Chalk fell asleep, thoroughly worn out by the events of the evening and a conversation with Mr. Stobell and Mr. Tredgold, whom he had met on the way home waiting for him.

The opinion of Mr. Tredgold senior, an opinion in which Mr. Stobell fully acquiesced, was that Mr. Chalk had ruined everything by displaying all along a youthful impetuosity sadly out of place in one of his years and standing.  The offender’s plea that he had thought it best to strike while the iron was hot only exposed him to further contumely.

“Well, it’s no good talking about it,” said Mr. Tredgold, impatiently.  “It’s all over now and done with.”

“Half a million clean chucked away,” said Mr. Stobell.

Mr. Chalk shook his head and, finding that his friends had by no means exhausted the subject, suddenly bethought himself of an engagement and left them.

Miss Vickers, who heard the news from Mr. Joseph Tasker, received it with an amount of amazement highly gratifying to his powers as a narrator.  Her strongly expressed opinion afterwards that he had misunderstood what he had heard was not so agreeable.

“I suppose I can believe my own ears?” he said, in an injured voice.

“He must have been making fun of them all,” said Selina.  “He couldn’t have burnt it—­he couldn’t.”

“Why not?” inquired the other, surprised at her vehemence.

Miss Vickers hesitated.  “Because it would be such a silly thing to do,” she said, at last.  “Now, tell me what you heard all over again—­slow.”

Mr. Tasker complied.

“I can’t make head or tail of it,” said Miss Vickers when he had finished.

“Seems simple enough to me,” said Joseph, staring at her.

“All things seem simple when you don’t know them,” said Miss Vickers, vaguely.