’Mr Toogood came here because he wanted to see the dean—­and you also.  He did not explain, as far as I can remember, why he wanted to see you; but he said it would be necessary, and that he was going to send off a messenger to find you first, and the dean afterwards.  It has something to do with the money which was given to Mr Crawley last year, and which, if I remember right, was your present.  But of course Mr Toogood could not have known anything about that.  However, I gave him the address—­poste restante, Florence—­and I daresay that somebody will make you out before long, if you are still stopping in Florence.  I did not like letting him go without telling you about it, as I thought that a lawyer’s coming to you would startle you.

’The bairns are quite well, as I told you in my other letter, and Miss Jones says that little Elly is as good as gold.  They are with me every morning and evening, and behave little darling angels, as they are.  Posy is my own little jewel always.  You may be quite sure I do nothing to spoil them.—­God bless you, dearest Nelly, Your most affectionate father, ‘Septimus Harding’

After this he wrote another letter to his other daughter, Mrs Grantly, telling her also of Mr Toogood’s visit; and then he spent the remainder of the day thinking over the gravity of the occurrence.  How terrible it would be if a beneficed clergyman in the diocese should really be found guilty of theft by a jury from the city!  And then he had always heard so high a character of this man from his son-in-law.  No—­it was impossible to believe that Mr Crawley had in truth stolen a cheque for twenty pounds!

Mr Toogood could get no further information in Barchester, and went on to Silverbridge early in the afternoon.  He was half disposed to go by Hogglestock and look up his cousin, whom he had never seen, and his cousin’s husband, upon whose business he was now intent; but on reflection he feared that he might do more harm than good.  He had quite appreciated the fact that Mr Crawley was not like other men.  ’The man’s not above half-saved,’ he had said to his wife—­meaning thereby to insinuate that the poor clergyman was not in full possession of his wits.  And, to tell the truth of Mr Toogood, he was a little afraid of his relative.  There was something in Mr Crawley’s manner, in spite of his declared poverty, and in spite also of his extreme humility, which seemed to announce that he expected to be obeyed when he spoke on any point with authority.  Mr Toogood had not forgotten the tone in which Mr Crawley had said to him, ‘Sir, this is a thing you cannot do.’  And he thought that, upon the whole, he had better not go to Hogglestock on this occasion.