"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."
"Good Lord '" Cai stood erect. "If—if—"
"That's so," assented Fancy, seated and nodding. "If—"
"But it can't be!"
"But if it is?" She slipped from her chair and stood, still facing him.