"Well?"

"Well, he isn't in his bedroom. And, what's more, his bed hasn't been
slept in last night. Farnaby's off, sir--nobody knows where."

Old Ronald dropped heavily into the nearest chair. This second mystery,
following on the mystery of the anonymous letter, staggered him. But
his business instincts were still in good working order. He held out
his keys to the clerk. "Get the petty cash-book," he said, "and see if
the money is all right."

The clerk received the keys under protest. _"That's_ not the right
reading of the riddle," he remarked.

"Do as I tell you!"

The clerk opened the money-drawer under the counter; counted the
pounds, shillings and pence paid by chance customers up to the closing
of the shop on the previous evening; compared the result with the petty
cash-book, and answered, "Right to a halfpenny."

Satisfied so far, old Ronald condescended to approach the speculative
side of the subject, with the assistance of his subordinate. "If what
you said just now means anything," he resumed, "it means that you
suspect the reason why Farnaby has left my service. Let's hear it."

"You know that I never liked John Farnaby," the clerk began. "An active
young fellow and a clever young fellow, I grant you. But a bad servant
for all that. False, Mr. Ronald--false to the marrow of his bones."