He resumed his quick pace and strode along, calling back a good night to Mr. Hurde. The latter gazed after him in undisguised astonishment.
“Make no stir! let the thing go on quietly!” he articulated to himself. “Who’d say such a thing but easy George Godolphin! Not look up Layton? It’s well for you, Mr. George, that you have men of business about you! He’d let himself be robbed under his very nose, and never look out to see who did it. However will things go on, if the worst happens to his brother?”
It seemed that they were all saying the same—how would things go on, if the worst happened to Thomas Godolphin?
For once in his life of service the old clerk chose to ignore the wish—the command if you will—of Mr. George Godolphin. He did not let Layton alone. Quite the contrary. No sooner did Layton enter the Bank on the following morning, than Mr. Hurde dropped upon him. He had been watching for his entrance the last ten minutes; for Mr. Layton arrived late, the result possibly of the past night’s extensive scene of revelry. He had settled himself in his place behind the counter, when the chief clerk’s voice arrested him.
“I want you, Mr. Layton.”
Now, the fact was, Mr. Hurde, having slept upon the matter, arose perplexed by sundry doubts. The circumstances against Layton appeared by no means so conclusive to his mind as they had done the previous night. Therefore he deemed it good policy to speak to that suspected gentleman in a temperate spirit, and see whether he could fish anything out, rather than accuse him point-blank of having been the delinquent.
“This is a nasty business,” began he, when Layton reached him, in answer to his call.
“What is?” asked Layton.
“What is?” repeated Mr. Hurde, believing that the loss must have affected every one connected with the establishment as it was affecting him, and doubting whether the indifferent answer was not a negative proof of guilt. “What should it be, but this loss that has been spoken of in the Bank?”
“Oh, that,” returned Layton. “I dare say they will be found.”