In accordance with his arrangement with Mr. Walker, Mr. Toogood went over to Barchester early in the morning and put himself up at "The Dragon of Wantly." He now knew the following facts: that Mr. Soames, when he lost his cheque, had had with him one of the servants from that inn,—that the man who had been with Mr. Soames had gone to New Zealand,—that the cheque had found its way into the hands of Mrs. Arabin, and that Mrs. Arabin was the owner of the inn in question. So much he believed to be within his knowledge, and if his knowledge should prove to be correct, his work would be done as far as Mr. Crawley was concerned. If Mr. Crawley had not stolen the cheque, and if that could be proved, it would be a question of no great moment to Mr. Toogood who had stolen it. But he was a sportsman in his own line who liked to account for his own fox. As he was down at Barchester, he thought that he might as well learn how the cheque had got into Mrs. Arabin's hands. No doubt that for her own personal possession of it she would be able to account on her return. Probably such account would be given in her first letter home. But it might be well that he should be prepared with any small circumstantial details which he might be able to pick up at the inn.

He reached Barchester before breakfast, and in ordering his tea and toast, reminded the old waiter with the dirty towel of his former acquaintance with him. "I remember you, sir," said the old waiter. "I remember you very well. You was asking questions about the cheque which Mr. Soames lost afore Christmas." Mr. Toogood certainly had asked one question on the subject. He had inquired whether a certain man who had gone to New Zealand had been the post-boy who accompanied Mr. Soames when the cheque was lost; and the waiter had professed¹ to know nothing about Mr. Soames or the cheque. He now perceived at once that the gist² of the question had remained on the old man's mind, and that he was recognized as being in some way connected with the lost money.

"Did I? Ah, yes; I think I did. And I think you told me that he was the man?"

"No, sir; I never told you that."

"Then you told me that he wasn't."

"Nor I didn't tell you that neither," said the waiter angrily.

"Then what the devil did you tell me?" To this further question the waiter sulkily declined to give any answer, and soon afterwards left the room. Toogood, as soon as he had done his breakfast, rang the bell, and the same man appeared. "Will you tell Mr. Stringer that I should be glad to see him if he's disengaged," said Mr. Toogood. "I know he's bad with the gout, and therefore if he'll allow me, I'll go to him instead of his coming to me." Mr. Stringer was the landlord of the inn. The waiter hesitated a moment, and then declared that to the best of his belief his master was not down. He would go and see. Toogood, however, would not wait for that; but rising quickly and passing the waiter, crossed the hall from the coffee-room, and entered what was called the bar. The bar was a small room connected with the hall by a large open window, at which orders for rooms were given and cash was paid, and glasses of beer were consumed,—and a good deal of miscellaneous conversation was carried on. The barmaid was here at the window, and there was also, in a corner of the room, a man at a desk with a red nose. Toogood knew that the man at the desk with the red nose was Mr. Stringer's clerk. So much he had learned in his former

分享到：