The striking of a wax vesta at the door of the chambers, the shaky hunt for the key, the well-known obstinacy of the lock, the opening of the door, the fevered working of Bommaney’s fingers, and the flushed eagerness of his face, were all memorable to young Barter for many and many a day. They entered together the room in which their interview had taken place; and Barter, nursing the remnant of the flaming vesta, lit the gas with it, and then, dropping it on the floor, set his foot upon it, and looked at his companion.
‘Where do you think you left the notes, sir?’ he asked. ‘Have you any idea? I think you took out some papers here. You wanted to consult my father about them, I fancy, and, if I remember, you returned them to your pocket.’
Bommaney stood looking about him on the floor, trailing the point of his walking-cane purposelessly hither and thither; and it was at this moment, seeing how confused and broken his victim seemed, that young Mr. Barter tasted the first flavour of safety.
‘I don’t see anything,’ he said.
‘Did you,’ Bommaney asked him, with both trembling hands grasping the knob of his walking-cane, and shaking in appeal before the unsuspected thief—’ did you lock any papers away before you left?’
As a matter of fact, young Barter had not had any papers to lock away that evening after Bommaney’s departure; but he thought the trick worth playing, and, producing his keys again, opened the heavy iron safe which stood against the wall.
‘Yes,’ he said, with an air of hopeful alacrity. ‘By Jove, I did!’ He stood aside, with an outstretched hand, and motioned Bommaney to examine the contents of the safe. There was a parchment there, there were half a dozen bundles of documents tied in pink tape and docketed; but there were no bank-notes.
‘You know,’ said Bommaney, with a fretful wail, ‘I must have left them here; I couldn’t have left them anywhere else. I put it to you—could I?’
Barter looked at him mournfully, with raised eyebrows. There was just a hint of expostulation in his raised eyebrows, and in the expression of his voice.
‘You see, sir,’ he said, waving his white hands—’ you see for yourself, there’s nothing here.’