“Just after you did, sir. The bell was going for college.”
“And pray what time did you come in again?”
“Well, sir, you saw me come in. It was getting on for five o’clock.”
“Do you mean to say you had not been in at all, between those hours!”
“It was Knivett’s fault,” grumbled Roland. “He kept me.”
Mr. Galloway sat drumming on his desk, apparently gazing at Roland; in reality thinking. To hear that Mr. Roland Yorke had taken French leave for nearly a whole afternoon, just on the especial afternoon that he ought not to have taken it—Jenkins being away—did not surprise him in the least; it was very much in the line of the Yorkes to do so. To scold or punish Roland for it, would have been productive of little good, since he was sure to do it again the very next time the temptation offered itself. Failing temptation, he would remain at his post steadily enough. No; it was not Roland’s escapade that Mr. Galloway was considering; but the very narrow radius that the affair of the letter appeared to be drawing itself into. If Roland was absent, he could not have had half the town in, to chatter; and if Arthur Channing asserted that none had been in, Mr. Galloway could give credence to Arthur. But then—how had the money disappeared? Who had taken it?
“Channing!” he called out, loudly and sharply.
Arthur, who was preparing to attend the cathedral, for the bell had rung out, hastened in.
“How came you not to tell me when we were speaking of Roland Yorke’s absence, that he remained away all the afternoon?” questioned Mr. Galloway.
Arthur was silent. He glanced once at Roland.