“No; it’s been lockit a’ day,” said Morley, decidedly.
“You’re sure?”
“Quite sure, sir.”
There was an awkward pause, and then Morley, with a slight tremor in his tones, said—
“Is there onything wrang?”
“Yes; I left three notes—bank-notes for £50—in my desk when I went away to dinner, and they were gone when I got back half an hour ago.”
“Impossible!” The man looked shocked and astonished, but there was nevertheless a something constrained or unusual in his manner which the builder did not like. “Naebody could get into the office by the tool-house,” Morley hastened to add; “that door hasna been open for years, and the key’s lost. Besides, there’s the shelves in the road.”
“How could they get in, then?” cried Mr Lockyer. “The front door was locked, and the key in my pocket; and it’s not likely that they would pick the lock in broad daylight in the front street.”
“Oh, thieves are clever now-a-days,” observed Morley; “they’re fit for onything.”
“They may be, but that’s a little beyond the ordinary,” drily returned his master. “How were they to know I had left the money in my desk, or how long I would be away?”