"Speak out, Mr. Bede Greatorex. It's all in the day's work. If there is really nothing, it won't hurt him; if there is, I may be able to follow it up. Perhaps it's one of the two gentlemen?"
"If it be any one of the four, Mr. Hurst."
The detective so far forgot his good manners as to break into a low whistle.
"Mr. Hurst! or Mr. Yorke, do you mean?" he cried, in his surprise.
"Not Mr. Yorke, certainly. Why should you think of him?"
"Oh, for nothing," carelessly answered Butterby. "Hurst seems an upright young man, sir."
"It is so trifling a doubt I have of him, the lifting of a straw, as may be said, that I should be sorry to think he is not upright. Still, I have reason for deciding that he is the most likely, of the four, for doubt to attach to."
At that moment, the gentleman in question interrupted them--Josiah Hurst; bringing a message to Mr. Bede Greatorex. An important client was waiting to see him. Mr. Butterby took a more curious look at the young man's countenance than he had ever done in the old days at Helstonleigh.
"The lawyer's wrong," thought he to himself. "He is no thiever of cheques, he isn't."
"I shall be at liberty in one minute, Mr. Hurst. Shut the door. You understand?" he added in a low tone to the detective, as they stood up together in parting. "All that I 'have said to you must be kept secret; doubly secret from my father. He must suppose you at work, investigating; whereas, in point of fact, the thing must drop. Only, if you can gain any private information, bring it to me."