“Quite correct, missy.  And t’other one is ’Bias’s, as I know.  I had ’em in my hands together when I opened the safe as Mr Rogers told me to do, givin’ me the key.  I took out the two, not knowing t’other from which, made sure, docketed mine careful—­to take away—­and put ’Bias’s back in the safe afore lockin’ it.  That would be back sometime in October last.”

Fancy nodded.  “That’s what he told me:  and up to this mornin’ I reckoned Cap’n Hunken’s bonds was still there, though it must be a month since I opened the safe.  This mornin’ I had a talk with Dad—­he doesn’t know the half about the master’s affairs, nor how they’ve been these two years, and I didn’ let on:  but I allowed as we ought to look into things and call in Peter Benny—­knowin’ that Peter Benny was made execlator, if anything happened.  So we agreed, and called him in:  and I told Peter Benny enough to let him see that things were serious.  In the end I fetched the keys, and he unlocked the safe.  There was a good few papers in it, which he overhauled.  But there wasn’ no parcel ’pon the top shelf where I’d seen it last.”

“Then you may depend he’d given it to ’Bias unbeknown to you, same as he handed mine over to me.  Wasn’ that Benny’s opinion?”

“Oh, you make me tired!” exclaimed the wise child frankly.  “As if I’d no more sense than to go there an’ then an’ frighten him—­an’ him with all those papers to look over!”

“Then if you’re so shy about worriting Benny—­and I don’t blame you—­why be in such a hurry to worrit yourself?  ’Bias has the papers—­that you may lay to.”

Fancy tapped her small foot on the floor, which it just reached.  “As if I should be wastin’ time, botherin’ you!  On my way here I ran against Cap’n Hunken, and of course he wanted to hear the latest of master—­said he was on his way to inquire.  So I told him that matters was bad enough but while there was life there was hope—­the sort o’ thing you have to say:  and I went on that the business would be all in a mess for some time to come, and I hoped he’d got all his papers at home, which would save trouble.  ‘Papers?’ said he.  ’Not I!’—­and I wonder I didn’ drop:  you might have knocked me down with a feather.  ‘Papers?’ said he.  ’I haven’t seen ’em for months. I don’t trouble about papers!  But you’ll find ’em in the safe all right, though I haven’t seen ’em for months.’  Those were the very words he used:  and nothin’ would interest him but to hear how the invalid was doin’.  He went off, cheerful as a chaffinch.  It’s plain to me,” Fancy wound up, “that he hasn’t the papers.  He trusted you, to start with, and he’s gone on trustin’ you and the master.  Didn’ you intejuce him?”

“Sure enough I did,” Cai allowed.  “But—­confound it, you know!—­’Bias Hunken isn’t a child.”

“Oh! if that contents you—­” But well she knew it did not.

“Mr Rogers never would—­”

“I’ve told you,” said Fancy, “more’n ever I ought to have told.  There’s no knowin’, they say, what a man’ll do when he’s in Queer Street:  and the papers have gone:  and Cap’n Hunken thinks they’re in the safe, where they ain’t:  and I come to you first, as used to be his friend.”