“I think that’s a silly trick,” he complained. “What’s the good of running unnecessary risks? I can get along without my cigar-case till to-morrow. And here he goes off, posing to himself as a young hero—while really, you know, he’s only a foolhardy young ass. But he was always like that. I wish Sylvia had been here; she could manage him. I never seemed to have any influence with him, somehow.”
Ardsley, obviously bored, rose and left the room. Sir Clinton took the opportunity of changing the subject.
“While your nephew’s away, Mr. Shandon, I think I’d better take the opportunity of giving you some information. You remember telling me something about a cheque and a missing counterfoil?”
“Yes,” Ernest admitted, apparently not averse to the fresh subject. “I thought I ought to tell you about that! It may not have been important; but I thought you ought to have all the information about everything, even if it didn’t seem to be anything very vital, you understand? One never knows how one thing may hinge on to another, if you see what I mean? And it certainly seemed a strange thing to me—very rum.”
“I’ve looked into the matter,” Sir Clinton went on, “and I think I’ve succeeded in doing what’s probably the most important thing from your point of view. I’ve recovered a few thousand pounds, which somebody might have got away with. You’ll find it in your safe to-night. It will be in notes. You’d better take the numbers of them. I haven’t had time to do that; and it might be as well to know them.”
Ernest’s eyes lighted up when he heard the result of Sir Clinton’s work; but the brief illumination died and was followed by a depressed expression.
“Does this mean there’ll be a prosecution; and I’ll have to give evidence? That’ll be a troublesome business.”
Sir Clinton reassured him with a gesture.
“Well, perhaps we’d better not start crossing bridges till we come to them. Let’s leave the matter for the present. It’s not for me to advise you whether to force on a case or not. I’ll even refrain from mentioning the name of the man who took the money.”
“Oh, I’ve a pretty good notion of that,” Ernest protested, with a certain air of low cunning which sat ill on his dull features. “I may not be very clever, you know; but I can put two and two together all right.”