"I know," said Brownlow. "I've had the same bother. They will see the head."
"When's he back?" asked Balls.
"I don't know," said Brownlow.
"Where's he gone?"
"I don't know," said Brownlow. "I only know he's gone, same as this time last year. He was a month away then."
"Oh, Lord!" said Balls, who had only joined the office nine months before and who knew nothing of last year's escapade. "A month more of this sort of bother—a month!"
"Yes," said Brownlow. "I had it to do last year, and he left no address, same as now." Then, after a moment's pause, "I'm worried about him. I can't help it, there was a strange thing happened last year. I've never told it to a soul before. He called me in one day to his room and he showed me a bundle of bank-notes. 'See here, Brownlow,' said he, 'did you put these in my safe?' I'd never seen the things before and I have no key to his private safe. I told him I hadn't. He showed me the notes, ten thousand pounds' worth. Ten thousand pounds' worth, he couldn't account for—asked me if I'd put them in his safe. I said 'No,' as I told you. 'Well, it's very strange,' said he. Then he stood looking at the floor. Then he said all of a sudden, 'It doesn't matter.' Next day he went off on a month's holiday, sending word for me to carry on."
"Queer," said Balls.
"More than queer," replied Brownlow. "I've put it down to mental strain; he's a hard worker."
"It's not mental strain," said Balls. "He's as alive as you or me and as keen, and he doesn't overwork; it's something else."