“So I heard,” said Mr. Galloway. “You and the bishop were both in the same boat. I cannot, for my part, get at the mystery of that locking-up business.”
“The bishop as good as said so, sir—that we had both been in it. I was trying to express my acknowledgments to his lordship for his condescension, apologizing for my plain bedroom, and the dark stairs, and all that, and saying, as well as I knew how, that the like of me was not worthy of a visit from him, when he laughed, in his affable way, and said, ‘We were both caught in the same trap, Jenkins. Had I been the one to receive personal injury, I make no doubt that you would have come the next day to inquire after me.’ What a great thing it is, to be blessed with a benevolent heart, like the Bishop of Helstonleigh’s!”
Arthur Channing came in and interrupted the conversation. He was settling to his occupation, when Mr. Galloway drew his attention; in an abrupt and angry manner, as it struck Arthur.
“Channing, you told me, yesterday, that you posted that letter for Ventnor on Friday.”
“So I did, sir.”
“It has been robbed.”
“Robbed!” returned Arthur, in surprise, scarcely realizing immediately the meaning of the word.
“You know that it contained money—a twenty-pound note. You saw me put it in.”
“Yes—I—know—that,” hesitated Arthur.
“What are you stammering at?”