“The plot thickens,” said Oaklands, as, without rising from his seat, he stretched out an immense length of arm, and opened the door.
“Hear what I have to say first,” cried I; but it was too late, and Cumberland entered, breathless, and with his usually sallow complexion flushed with exercise and excitement.
“The most unfortunate thing”—he began; and stopping to draw breath, he added, “I have run all the way from the post-office, as hard as my legs would carry me—but I was going to tell you—as I went down, I met Curtis of the —th, who told me their band was going to play in Park Square, and asked me to go with him to hear it; and I'm afraid that, as I stood in the crowd, my pocket must have been picked, for when I got to the post-office I found that my letter, my pocket handkerchief, and I am sorry to say your letter also, had disappeared—so, remembering you had told me your letter was of importance, I thought the best thing I could do was to come home as fast as I could, and tell you.”
“By Jove,” exclaimed Oaklands, “that's rather a bore though; there was my father's cheque for three hundred pounds in it; I suppose something ought to be done about it directly.”
“Write a note to stop the payment; and—let me see—as it is too late for the post now, if you will make a parcel of it, I'll run down and give it to the guard of the mail, begging him to deliver it himself as soon as he gets to town—the cheque can't be presented till to-morrow morning, so that will be all right.”
“What a head you have for business, to be sure!” said Oaklands; “but why should you have the trouble of taking it? I dare say Thomas will go with it when we have done dinner, or I can take it myself.”
“Nay,” replied Cumberland, “as I have contrived to lose your letter, the least I can do is to take the parcel; besides, I should like to speak to the guard myself, so as to be sure there's no mistake.”
While this was going on it may be imagined that my thoughts were not idle. When Cumberland mentioned the loss of the letter my suspicions that some nefarious scheme might be on foot began for the first time to resolve themselves into a tangible form, but when I perceived his anxiety to have the parcel entrusted to him, which was to prevent the payment of the cheque, the whole scheme, or something nearly approaching to it, flashed across me at once, and, without reflecting for a moment on what might be the consequences of doing so, I said:—
“If Oaklands will take my advice, he will not entrust you with anything else, till you can prove that you have really lost the letter, as you say you have done”.
Had a thunderbolt fallen in the midst of us, it could scarcely have produced greater confusion than did this speech of mine. Oaklands sprang upon his feet, regarding me with the greatest surprise as he asked “if I knew what I was saying?” while Cumberland, in a voice hoarse from passion, inquired, “What the devil I meant by my insolence? what did I dare to insinuate he had done with the letter, if he had not lost it?”