"It could not have come from Alfred," interposed Old Wheels; "he was at his office."
"We must be sure of that. I have my suspicions that he did not go to work to-day. Now, sir, you must still be content to remain quiet, while I ride to London. I shall have no difficulty in obtaining the fastest horse from the stables near here."
"What is your object in going to London, Felix?" asked the old man, gaining confidence from Felix's firm tone.
"I am acquainted with a person employed in Alfred's office. I can obtain from him the information whether Alfred has been at his work to-day. Without that information, we might take a false step; with it (if it be as I suspect) I think I see part of my way. I shall be back sooner than you expect. I am a good rider, and I shall not spare my horse on such an errand."
Felix made good use of his time. It was barely half-past twelve o'clock as he ran upstairs to Old Wheels, flushed with the exercise. He cast a sharp glance around, and Old Wheels, shook his head, saying,
"No, Felix, she has not returned."
"I was right in my suspicions, sir. Alfred has not been at his office to-day. He asked for leave of absence on the plea that you required his assistance at home."
"Where can he have spent his time, then?"
"At Epsom. A great race called the City and Suburban was run to-day, and Alfred has been betting on that race, and has lost. Now, sir, can you bear a shock?"
Old Wheels waited in trembling suspense. "A greater one than has already fallen?" he murmured.