CHAPTER XVIII.
A VISION IN HONEY FAIR.
The surmise that the missing cheque had been changed into good money on the Saturday night, proved to be correct. White, the butcher at the corner of the shambles, had given change for it, and locked up the cheque in the cash-box. Had he paid it into the bank on Monday, he would have found what it was worth. But he did not do so. Mr. White was a fat man with a good-humoured countenance and black hair. Sergeant Delves proceeded to his house some time on the Tuesday.
"I hear you cashed a cheque of the Messrs. Dunn on Saturday night," began he. "Who brought it to you?"
"Ah, what about that cheque?" returned the butcher. "One of your men has been in here, asking a lot of questions."
"A good deal about it," said the sergeant. "It was stolen from Mr. Ashley."
"Stolen from Mr. Ashley!" echoed the butcher, staring at Sergeant Delves.
"Stolen out of his desk. And you stand a nice chance, White, of losing the money. You should be more cautious. Who was it brought it here?"
"A gentleman. A respectable man, at any rate. Who says it's stolen?"