He made up his mind that the first person to be seen was Mr Walker, and after that he would, if possible, go to Archdeacon Grantly.  He was at first minded to go at once to Hogglestock; but when he remembered how very strange Mr Crawley was in all his ways, and told himself professionally that telegrams were but bad sources of evidence on which to depend for details, he thought that it would be safer if he were first to see Mr Walker.  There would be very little delay.  In a day or two the archdeacon would receive his letter, and in a day or two after that Mrs Arabin would probably be at home.

It was late in the evening before Mr Toogood reached the house of the Silverbridge solicitor, having the telegram carefully folded in his pocket; and he was shown into the dining-room while the servant took his name up to Mr Walker.  The clerks were gone, and the office was closed; and persons coming on business at such times—­as they often did come to that house—­were always shown into the parlour.  ’I don’t know whether master can see you tonight,’ said the girl; ’but if he can, he’ll come down.’

When the card was brought up to Mr Walker he was sitting alone with his wife.  ‘It’s Toogood,’ said he; ‘poor Crawley’s cousin.’

‘I wonder whether he has found anything out,’ said Mrs Walker.  ’May he not come up here?’ Then Mr Toogood was summoned into the drawing-room, to the maid’s astonishment; for Mr Toogood had made no toilet sacrifices to the goddess of grace who presides over evening society in provincial towns—­and presented himself with the telegram in his hand.  ’We have found out all about poor Crawley’s cheque,’ he said, before the maid-servant had closed the door.  ‘Look at that,’ and he handed the telegram to Mr Walker.  The poor girl was obliged to go, though she would have given one her ears to know the exact contents of that bit of paper.

‘Walker, what is it?’ said his wife, before Walker had had time to make the contents of the document his own.

‘He got it from Mrs Arabin,’ said Toogood.

‘No!’ said Mrs Walker.  ‘I thought that was it all along.’

‘It’s a pity you didn’t say so before,’ said Mr Walker.

’So I did; but a lawyer thinks that nobody can ever seen anything but himself;—­begging your pardon, Mr Toogood, but I forgot you were one of us.  But, Walker, do read it.’  Then the telegram was read; ’I gave the cheque to Mr Crawley.  It was part of a sum of money’—­with the rest of it.  ‘I knew it would come out,’ said Mrs Walker.  ’I was quite sure of it.’

‘But why the mischief didn’t he say so?’ said Walker.

‘He did say he got it from the dean,’ said Toogood.

’But he didn’t get it from the dean; and the dean clearly knew nothing about it.’

‘I’ll tell you what it is,’ said Mrs Walker; ’it has been some private transaction between Mr Crawley and Mrs Arabin, which the dean knew nothing about; and so he wouldn’t tell.  I must say I honour him.’