"If you will bring me those title-deeds of Cardwell's, I'll go over them myself quietly, and see what I can make out," said Mr. Greatorex.
Bede crossed the passage to his private room, and unlocked his desk. The deeds Mr. Greatorex asked for were the same that he had been examining in the front office in the morning.
Some flaw had been discovered in them, or was suspected, and it was likely to give the office some trouble, which would fall on Bede's head. There they lay inside the desk, just as Bede had placed them in the morning, with the paper-weight upon them; detained at Westminster until a late hour, he had not been to his desk since. Reminded by his father to destroy the cheque--useless now--Bede thought he would do it at once.
But he could not find it. Other papers, besides the title-deeds, cheque, and chequebook, he had placed within, and he went carefully over them all, one by one. Nothing was missing, nothing had apparently been touched, but the cheque certainly was not there. He searched his desk in the front office, quite for form's sake, for he knew that he had carried the cheque with him to his private room.
"One would think you had been drawing out the deeds," remarked Mr. Greatorex when he returned.
"I can't find that cheque," answered Bede.
"Not find the cheque!" repeated Mr. Greatorex. "What do you mean, Bede?"
Bede gave a short history of the affair. He had been in a hurry: and, instead of staying to put the cheque and chequebook into his cash-box, had left them loose in his table-desk with the title-deeds and sundry other papers.
"But you locked your desk?" cried Mr. Greatorex.
"Assuredly. I have only unlocked it now. The cheque would be as safe there as in the cash-box."