He encountered Henry Marbury, as he came through the park, and they went, on a little way, together. When they came in sight of the house, Marbury stopped.
"Maynadier," he said, "I have something to tell you—can you give me a moment?"
"Certainly, sir;" said Maynadier, "as many moments as you wish."
Marbury considered a second, as though framing his words.
"It is this way," he said. "You have heard of the ransom money I paid the pirates. Well, it was recovered, at the landing, by Captain Jamison, and turned over to me, unopened—at least, he thought so, and my own inspection sustained him. I counted it, the other morning, and it was correct—or, I made it so. Just as I finished, I was called out, hastily, and I left the bags on the table. I forgot them, and did not return until late in the day. Then, something told me to count it again. I did—and found about a hundred guineas missing."
"Some of the servants?" said Maynadier.
"I think not—none of them would venture to enter my rooms even when the door is open, and it was closed—closed when I left it, and closed when I returned."
"Have you no means of identifying the coins?"
"None—I never make a list."