Mr. Ashley shook his head: he was deep in consideration. "I have not touched it since I placed it there," he presently said. "Unless—surely I cannot have torn it up by mistake?"
He and Samuel Lynn both stooped over the waste-paper basket. They could detect nothing of the sort amidst its contents. Mr. Ashley was nonplussed. "This is a curious thing, Samuel," said he. "No one was in the room during my absence except William Halliburton."
"He would not meddle with thy desk," observed the Quaker.
"No: nor suffer any one else to meddle with it. I should like to see William. He may possibly throw some light upon the subject. The cheque could not vanish into thin air."
Samuel Lynn went down to James Meeking's, whom he disturbed at supper. He bade him watch at the entrance-gate for the return of William from the post-office, and request him to walk into the manufactory. William was not very long in making his appearance. He received the message—that the master and Mr. Lynn wanted him—and in he went with alacrity, having jumped to the conclusion that some conference was about to be held touching the French journey.
Considerably surprised was he to learn what the matter really was. He quite laughed at the idea of the cheque's being gone, and believed that Mr. Ashley must have torn it up. Very minutely went he over the contents of the paper-basket. Its relics were not there.
"It's like magic!" exclaimed William. "No one entered the counting-house; not even Mr. Lynn or Cyril Dare."
"Cyril Dare was with me," said the Quaker. "Verily it seems to savour of the marvellous."
It certainly did; and no conclusion could be come to. Neither could anything be done that night.
It was late when William reached home—a quarter past ten. Frank was sitting over the fire, waiting for him. Gar had gone to bed tired; Mrs. Halliburton with headache; Dobbs, because there was nothing more to do.