"Neale!" he said. "You've been here five years, so one can speak confidentially. There's something wrong—seriously wrong. Securities are missing. Securities representing—a lot!"
Neale's face flushed as if he himself had been charged with abstracting those securities. His hand shook as he set down his glass, and he looked helplessly from one partner to another. Joseph merely shook his head, and poured out another glass of sherry for himself: Gabriel shook his head, too, but with a different expression.
"We don't know exactly how things are," he continued. "But there's the fact—on a superficial examination. And—Horbury! Of all men in the world, Horbury!"
"I can't believe it, Mr. Chestermarke!" exclaimed Neale. "Surely, sir, there's some mistake!"
Joseph brushed crumbs of biscuit off his beard and wagged his head.
"No mistake!" he said softly. "None! The thing is—what's best to do? Because—he'd have laid his plans. It'll all have been thought out—carefully."
"I'm afraid so," assented Gabriel. "That's the worst of it. Everything points to premeditation. And when a man has been so fully trusted——"
A knock at the door prefaced the introduction of Shirley's head. He glanced into the room with an obvious desire to see what was going on, but somehow contrived to fix his eyes on the senior partner.
"Lord Ellersdeane, sir," he announced. "Can he see you?"
The two partners looked at each other in evident surprise; then Gabriel moved to the door and bowed solemnly to some person outside.