'"Only too true. But the thief, Ralph; who can be the thief? It must be
some one well acquainted with the premises, who could gain access to
the key, and must have known the secret of the lock. It is this which
distresses me--that fills my mind with the keenest anguish." He looked
hard at the old man--not a look of suspicion, but one of intense
inquiry, as if he depended upon his answer to solve his doubts.

'Ralph trembled visibly. His voice became a broken sob. "Oh, my dear,
my honoured master, you cannot surely suspect me, your old and faithful
servant?"

'"I would as soon suspect myself!"

'The old man continued, in a deprecating tone: "You know, your
reverence, that money is no object to me. I have neither wife, nor
child, and my wants are liberally supplied by you. I shall have to
leave _you_ the money saved in your service, for the want of an
heir; and I generally give half my wages to the poor through that very
box, being more anxious to lay up for myself treasures in heaven than
upon earth."

'"Yes, yes, I know all this, my good Ralph," cried the Doctor
impatiently; "your character is above suspicion. I want you to give me
some clue by which the real culprit could be brought to justice."

'The old man cast a hasty glance at his master, as if he could do so if
he pleased, but remained silent.

'The look did not escape Doctor Leatrim's keen eye. "Speak, Ralph!