"What do you think I ought to do, Brandon? Would you advise me to have him arrested?"
"No, sir. Ask him to return the bill he took from the drawer. If he denies having taken it, you will know what to think."
"True; your advice is good. I will speak to him to-morrow morning. Thank you, for telling me what you saw."
The store was closed, and the two went in different directions—Mr. Tubbs towards his home, Brandon to the billiard-room.
The latter smiled as he pushed on his way.
"What would the old man have thought," he said to himself, "if he knew that I had the parson's bill in my own pocket? My friend Gerald, I have spiked your guns, as you will find if you undertake to make trouble for me. You are altogether too innocent. You are too good to play billiards, but you will find yourself in something worse.
The next morning Gerald came to the store earlier than usual, for he wanted an opportunity of speaking to Mr. Tubbs. The grocer, unlike most men in business for themselves, generally was first on the ground and opened the store himself. It was a habit he had formed when a subordinate. He always rose early and had an early breakfast, so that this involved no self-denial on his part.
Brandon, to give Mr. Tubbs an opportunity of speaking to Gerald, didn't come round till twenty minutes after his usual time.
Gerald noticed that the grocer looked unusually grave, but was quite unprepared for what was to come.
"Good morning, Mr. Tubbs," he said, in a pleasant tone.