David said nothing. He stood folding and unfolding the letter that Philip had given him, struck dumb by the thought that nothing had really been discovered of the missing money, and that the suspicion of Mr Oswald might still rest on him “I wonder you did not think of me, father,” went on Philip. “Frank did, I dare say, though I could not make out what he meant. But the money must be somewhere. Let us have a look.”
He went into his father’s room, and the others followed. Philip looked about as though he expected everything might be as he left it two months ago. There were loose papers on the table, and some letters and account-books. The morning paper was there, and Mr Oswald’s hat and cane, and that was all.
“The big book lay just here,” said Philip. “I laid my note on it, so that it need not be overlooked.”
“There are more big books in the office than one,” said Mr Caldwell, crossing the room to a large safe, of which the doors were still standing open. One by one he lifted the large account-books that were not often disturbed, and turned over the leaves slowly, to see whether any paper might have been shut in them. As soon as Philip understood what he was doing, he gave himself to the same work with a great deal more energy and interest than Mr Caldwell displayed. But it was Mr Caldwell who came upon that for which they were looking—Philip’s note to his father—safe between the pages of a great ledger, which looked as though it might not have been opened for years.
“I mind well; I was referring back to Moses Cramp’s account of past years on the very day that brought us all our trouble. And now, David Inglis, your trial is over for this time,” and he handed the note to Mr Oswald.
“Provided Mr Philip has made no mistake,” added he, cautiously, as the note was opened.
The interest with which David looked on may be imagined. It took Mr Oswald a good while to read the note; at least, it was a good while before he laid it down, and Mr Caldwell, claiming Mr Philip’s help, set about putting the big books in their places again. David never thought of offering to help.
“It has been a very unfortunate mistake,” said Mr Oswald, at last.
“All’s well that ends well,” said his son lightly.
“I am very sorry that you should have been made unhappy about it, David. I might have known that you were not to blame, but there seemed to be no one else. I beg your pardon sincerely,” said Mr Oswald.