"There's such a row at our place!" suddenly announced Cyril Dare, at the Pomeranian Knoll dinner-table, one Monday evening.

"What about?" asked Mr. Dare.

"Some money's missing. At least, a cheque; which amounts to the same thing."

"Not quite the same," dissented Mr. Dare. "Unless it has been cashed."

"I mean the same as regards noise," continued Cyril. "There's as much fuss being made over it as if it had been fourteen pounds' weight of solid gold. It was a cheque of Dunns'; and the master put it into his desk, or says he did so. When he came to look for it, it was gone."

"Who took it?" inquired Mr. Dare.

"Who's to know? That's what we want to find out."

"What was the amount?"

"Fourteen pounds, I say. A paltry sum. Ashley makes a boast, and says it's not the amount that bothers him, but the feeling that we must have some one false near us."

"Don't speak so slightingly of money," rebuked Mr. Dare. "Fourteen pounds are not so easily picked up that it should be pleasant to lose them."

"I'm sure I don't want to speak slightingly of money," returned Cyril, rebelliously. "You keep me too short, sir, for me not to know the full value of it. But fourteen pounds cannot be much of a loss to Mr. Ashley."

"If I keep you short, you have forced me to it by your extravagances—you and the rest of you," responded Mr. Dare, in short, emphatic tones.

An unpleasant pause ensued. When the father of a family intimates that his income is diminishing, it is not a welcome announcement. The young Dares had been obliged to hear it often lately. Adelaide broke the silence.

"How was the cheque taken?"

"It was a cheque brought by Dunns' people on Saturday night, in exchange for money, and the master placed it in his open desk in the counting-house," explained Cyril. "He went into Lynn's room to watch the packing, and was away an hour. When he returned, the cheque was gone."

"Who was in the counting-house?"

"Not a soul except Halliburton. He was there all the time."

"And no one else went in?" cried Mr. Dare.

"No one," replied Cyril, sending up his plate for more meat.

"Why, then, it would look as if Halliburton took it?" exclaimed Mr. Dare.

Cyril raised his eyebrows. "No one would venture to suggest as much in the hearing of the manufactory. It appears to be impressed with the opinion that Halliburton, like kings, can do no wrong."

"Mr. Ashley is so?"

"Mr. Ashley, and downwards."

"But, Cyril, if the facts are as you state, Halliburton must have been the one to take it," objected Mr. Dare. "Possibly the cheque may have been only mislaid?"

"The counting-house underwent a thorough search this morning, and every corner of the master's desk was turned out, but nothing came of it. Halliburton appears to be in a world of surprise as to where it can have gone; but he does not seem to glance at the fact that suspicion may attach to him."

"Of course Mr. Ashley intends to investigate it officially?" said Mr. Dare.

"He does not say," replied Cyril. "He had the two packers before him this morning separately, inquiring if they saw any one pass through the room to the counting-house on Saturday night. He also questioned me. We had none of us seen anything of the sort."

"Where were you at the time, Cyril?" eagerly questioned Mr. Dare.

Knowing what we know, it may seem a pointed question. It was not, however, so spoken. Mr. Dare would probably have suspected the whole manufactory before casting suspicion upon his son. The thought that really crossed his mind was, that if his son had happened to be in the way and had seen the thief, whoever he might be, steal into the counting-house, so that through him he might be discovered, it would have been a feather in Cyril's cap in the sight of Mr. Ashley. And to find favour with Mr. Ashley Mr. Dare considered ought to be the ruling aim of Cyril's life.

"I was away from it all, as it happened," said Cyril, in reply to the question. "Old Lynn nailed me on Saturday to help to pay the men. While the cheque was disappearing, I was at the delightful employment of counting coppers."

"Did one of the packers get in?"

"Impossible. They were under Mr. Ashley's eye the whole time."

"Look here, Cyril," interrupted Mrs. Dare, the first word she had spoken: "is it sure that that yea-and-nay Simon of a Quaker has not helped himself to it?"

Cyril burst into a laugh. "He is not a Simon in the manufactory, I can tell you, ma'am. He is too much of a martinet."

"Will Mr. Ashley be at the manufactory this evening, Cyril?" questioned Mr. Dare.

"You may as well ask me whether the moon will shine," was the response of Cyril. "Mr. Ashley comes sometimes in an evening; but we never know whether he will or not, beforehand."

"Because he may be glad of legal assistance," remarked Mr. Dare, who rarely failed to turn an eye to business.

You may remember the party that formerly sat round Mr. Dare's dinner-table on that day, some years ago, when Herbert was pleased to fancy that he fared badly, not appreciating the excellences of lamb. Two of that party were now absent from it—Julia Dare and Miss Benyon. Julia had married, and had left England with her husband; and Miss Benyon had been discarded for a more fashionable governess.

This fashionable governess now sat at the table. She was called Mademoiselle Varsini. You must not mistake her for a French woman; she was an Italian. She had been a great deal in France, and spoke the language as a native—indeed, it was more easy to her now than her childhood's tongue; and French was the language she was required to converse in with her pupils, Rosa and Minny Dare. English also she spoke fluently, but with a foreign accent.

She was peculiar looking. Her complexion was of pale olive, and her eyes were light blue. It is not often that light blue eyes are seen in conjunction with so dark a skin. Strange eyes they were—eyes that glistened as if they were made of glass; they had at times a hard, glazed appearance. Her black hair was drawn from her face and twisted into innumerable rolls at the back of her head. It was smooth and beautiful, as if a silken rope had been coiled there. Her lips were thin and compressed in a remarkable degree, which may have been supposed to indicate firmness of character. Tall, and full across the bust for her years, her figure would have been called a fine one. She wore a closely-fitting dress of some soft, dark material, with small embroidered cuffs and collar.

What were her years? She said twenty-five: but she might be taken for either older or younger. It is difficult to guess with certainty the age of an Italian woman. As a rule they look much older than English women; and, when they do begin to show age, they show it rapidly. Mr. Dare had never approved of the engagement of this foreign governess. Mrs. Dare had picked her up from an advertisement, and had persisted in engaging her, in spite of the written references being in French and that she could only read one word in ten of them. Mr. Dare's scruples were solely pecuniary. The salary was to be fifty pounds a year; exactly double the amount paid to Miss Benyon; and he had great expenses on him now. "What did the girls want with a fashionable foreign governess?" he asked. But he made no impression upon Mrs. Dare. The lady was engaged, and arrived in Helstonleigh: and Mr. Dare had declared, from that hour to this, that he could not make her out. He professed to be a great reader of the human face, and of human character.

"Has there been any attempt made to cash the cheque?" resumed Mr. Dare to Cyril.

"Ashley said nothing about that," replied Cyril. "It was lost after banking hours on Saturday night; therefore he would be sure to stop it at the bank before Monday morning. It is Ashley's loss; Dunns, of course, have nothing to do with it."

"It would be no difficult matter to change it in the town," remarked Anthony Dare. "Anyone would cash a cheque of Dunns': it is as good as a banknote."

Cyril lifted his shoulders. "The fellow had better not be caught at it, though."

"What would be the punishment in Angleterre for such a crime?" spoke up the governess.

"Transportation for a longer or a shorter period," replied Mr. Dare.

"What you would phrase aux galÈres mademoiselle," struck in Herbert.

"Ah, Ça!" responded mademoiselle.

As they called her "mademoiselle" we must do the same. There had been a discussion as to what she was to be called when she first came. Miss Varsini was not grand enough. Signora Varsini was not deemed familiar enough for daily use. Therefore "mademoiselle" was decided upon. It appeared to be all one to mademoiselle herself. She had been accustomed, she said, to be called mademoiselle in France.

Mr. Dare hurried over his dinner and his wine, and rose. He was going to find out Mr. Ashley. He was in hopes some professional business might arise to him in the investigation of the loss spoken of by Cyril. He was not a particularly covetous man, and had never been considered grasping, especially in business; but circumstances were rendering him so now. His general expenses were enormous—his sons contrived that their own expenses should be enormous; and Mr. Dare sometimes did not know which way to turn to meet them. Anthony drained him—it was Mr. Dare's own expression; Herbert drained him; Cyril wanted to drain him; George was working on for it. Small odds and ends arising in a lawyer's practice, that years ago Mr. Dare would scarcely have cared to trouble himself to undertake, were eagerly sought for by him now. He must work to live. It was not that his practice was a bad one; it was an excellent practice; but, do as Mr. Dare would, his expenses outran it.

He bent his steps to the manufactory. Had Mr. Ashley not been there, Mr. Dare would have gone on to his house. But Mr. Ashley was there. They were shut into the private room, and Mr. Ashley gave the particulars of the loss, more in detail than Cyril had given them.

"There is only one opinion to be formed," observed Mr. Dare. "Young Halliburton was the thief. The cheque could not go of itself; and no one else appears to have been near it."

In urging the case against William, Mr. Dare was influenced by no covert motive. He drew his inferences from the circumstances related to him, and spoke in accordance with them. The resentment he had once felt against the Halliburtons for coming to Helstonleigh (though the resentment was on Mrs. Dare's part rather than on his) had long since died away. They did not cross his path or he theirs; they did not presume upon the relationship; had not, so far as Mr. Dare knew, made it known abroad; therefore they were quite welcome to be in Helstonleigh for Mr. Dare. To do Mr. Dare justice, he was rather kindly disposed towards his fellow-creatures, unless self-interest carried him the other way. Cyril often amused himself at home by abusing William Halliburton: they were tolerable friends and companions when together, but Cyril could not overcome his feeling of dislike; a feeling to which jealousy was now added, for William found more favour with Mr. Ashley than he did. Cyril gave vent to his anger in explosions at home, and William was not spared in them: but Mr. Dare had learnt what his son's prejudices were worth.

"It must have been Halliburton," repeated Mr. Dare.

"No," replied Mr. Ashley. "There are four persons, of all those who were in my manufactory on Saturday night, for whom I will answer as confidently as I would for myself. James Meeking and George Dance are two. I believe them both to be honest as the day; and if additional confirmation that it was not they were necessary, neither of them stirred from beneath my own eye during the possible time of the loss. The other two are Samuel Lynn and William Halliburton. Samuel Lynn is above suspicion; and I have watched William grow up from boyhood—always upright, truthful and honourable; but more truthful, more honourable, year by year, as the years have passed."

"I dare say he is," acquiesced Mr. Dare. "Indeed, I like his look myself. There's something unusually frank about it. Of course you will have it officially investigated? I came down to offer you my services in the matter."

"You are very good," was the reply of Mr. Ashley. "Before entering farther into the affair, I must be fully convinced that the cheque's disappearance was not caused by myself. I——"

"By yourself?" interrupted Mr. Dare, in surprise.

"I do not think it was, mind; but there is a chance of it. I remember tearing up a paper or two after I received the cheque, and putting the pieces, as I believe, into the waste-paper basket. But I won't answer for it that I did not put them into the fire instead, as I passed it on my way to Mr. Lynn's room to call over the parcels bill."

"But you would not tear up the cheque?" cried Mr. Dare.

"Certainly not, intentionally. If I did it through carelessness, all I can say is, I have been very careless. No; I shall not stir in this matter for a day or two."

"But why wait?" asked Mr. Dare.

"If the cheque was stolen, it was probably changed somewhere in the town that same night; and this will soon be known. I shall wait."

Mr. Dare could not bring Mr. Ashley to a more business-like frame of mind. He left the manufactory, and went straight to the police-station, there to hold an interview with Mr. Sergeant Delves, a popular officer, with whom Mr. Dare had had dealings before. He stated the case to him, and desired Mr. Delves to ferret out what he could.

"Privately, you know, Delves," said he, winking at the sergeant, whom he held by the shoulder. "There's no doubt, in my opinion, that the cheque was changed that same night—probably at a public-house. Go to work sub ros—you understand; and any information you may obtain bring quietly to me. Don't take it to Mr. Ashley."

"I understand," replied Sergeant Delves, a portly man with a padded breast and a red face, who, in his official costume, always looked as if he were choking. "I'll see to it."

And he did so; and very effectively.