"The person intrusted by me with the care of my pupils abandoning his post, and my pupils looking out of the window!" exclaimed Dr. Tappenden, in the tone of a man who says—"The glory of England has departed! You wouldn't, perhaps, believe it; but it has!"
"We didn't know what to do, sir, and so we thought we'd better not do it," continued the bewildered Smithers. "And we thought as you was coming back to-day, we'd better leave it till you did come back—and please, sir, will you take any new-laid eggs?"
"Eggs!" said the Doctor; "new-laid eggs! Go away, Smithers. There must be some steps taken immediately. That young man was my right hand, and I would have trusted him with untold gold; or," he added, "with my cheque-book."
As he uttered the words "cheque-book," he, as it were instinctively, laid his hand upon the pocket which contained that precious volume; but as he did so, he remembered that he had used the last leaf but one when writing a cheque for a mid-summer butcher's bill, and that he had a fresh book in his desk untouched. This desk was always kept in the study, and the Doctor gave an involuntary glance in the direction in which it stood.
It was a very handsome piece of furniture, ponderous, like the Doctor himself; a magnificent construction of shining walnut-wood and dark green morocco, with a recess for the Doctor's knees, and on either side of this recess two rows of drawers, with brass handles and Bramah locks. The centre drawer on the left hand side contained an inner and secret drawer, and towards the lock of this drawer the Doctor looked, for this contained his new cheque-book. The walnut-wood round the lock of this centre drawer seemed a little chipped; the Doctor thought he might as well get up and look at it; and a nearer examination showed the brass handle to be slightly twisted, as if a powerful hand had wrenched it out of shape. The Doctor, taking hold of the handle to pull it straight, drew the drawer out, and scattered its contents upon the floor; also the contents of the inner drawer, and amongst them the cheque-book, half-a-dozen leaves of which had been torn out.
"So," said the Doctor, "this man, whom I trusted, has broken open my desk, and finding no money, he has taken blank cheques, in the hope of being able to forge my name. To think that I did not know this man!"
To think that you did not, Doctor; to think, too, that you do not even now, perhaps, know half this man may have been capable of.
But it was time for action, not reflection; so the Doctor hurried to the railway station, and telegraphed to his bankers
