‘I don’t think it has been that,’ said Walker.  ’Had he known all through that it had come from Mrs Arabin, he would never have said that Mr Soames gave it to him, and then that the dean gave it to him.’

‘The truth has been that he has known nothing about it,’ said Toogood; ‘and we shall have to tell him.’

At that moment Mary Walker came into the room, and Mrs Walker could not constrain herself.  ’Mary, Mr Crawley is all right.  He didn’t steal the cheque.  Mrs Arabin gave it to him.’

‘Who says so?  How do you know?  Oh, dear; I am so happy, if it’s true.’  Then she saw Mr Toogood and curtseyed.

‘It is quite true, my dear,’ said Mr Walker.  ’Mr Toogood has had a message by the wires from Mrs Arabin at Venice.  She is coming home at once, and no doubt everything will be put right.  In the meantime, it may be a question whether we should not hold our tongues.  Mr Crawley himself, I suppose, knows nothing of it yet?’

‘Not a word,’ said Toogood.

‘Papa, I must tell Miss Prettyman,’ said Mary.

‘I should think that probably all Silverbridge knows it by this time,’ said Mrs Walker, ’because Jane was in the room when the announcement was made.  You may be sure that every servant in the house has been told.’  Mary Walker, not waiting for any further command from her father, hurried out of the room to convey the secret to her special circle of friends.

It was known throughout Silverbridge that night, and indeed it made so much commotion that it kept many people for an hour out of their beds.  Ladies who were not in the habit of going out late at night without the fly from the ‘George and Vulture’, tied their heads up in their handkerchiefs, and hurried up and down the street to tell each other that the great secret had been discovered, and that in truth Mr Crawley had not stolen the cheque.  The solution of the mystery was not known to all—­was known on that night only to the very select portion of the aristocracy of Silverbridge to whom it was communicated by Mary Walker or Miss Anne Prettyman.  For Mary Walker, when earnestly entreated by Jane, the parlour-maid, to tell her something more of the great news, had so far respected her father’s caution as to say not a word about Mrs Arabin.  ‘Is it true, Miss Mary, that he didn’t steal it?’ Jane asked imploringly.  ‘It is true.  He did not steal it.’  ’And who did, Miss Mary?  Indeed I won’t tell anybody.’  ’Nobody.  But don’t ask any more questions, for I won’t answer them.  Get me my hat at once, for I want to go up to Miss Prettyman’s.’  Then Jane got Miss Walker’s hat, and immediately afterwards scampered into the kitchen with the news.  ’Oh, law, cook, it’s all come out!  Mr Crawley’s as innocent as the unborn babe.  The gentleman upstairs what’s just come, and was here once before—­for I know’d him immediate—­I heard him say so.  And master said so too.’

‘Did master say so his own self?’ asked the cook.