SHARON'S news was not of an encouraging character. He had metwith serious difficulties, and had spent the last farthing ofMoody's money in attempting to overcome them.

One discovery of importance he had certainly made. A horsewithdrawn from the sale was the only horse that had met withHardyman's approval. He had secured the animal at the highreserved price of twelve thousand francs--being four hundred andeighty pounds in English money; and he had paid with an Englishbank-note. The seller (a French horse-dealer resident inBrussels) had returned to Belgium immediately on completing thenegotiations. Sharon had ascertained his address, and had writtento him at Brussels, inclosing the number of the lost banknote. Intwo days he had received an answer, informing him that thehorse-dealer had been called to England by the illness of arelative, and that he had hitherto failed to send any address towhich his letters could be forwarded. Hearing this, and havingexhausted his funds, Sharon had returned to London. It now restedwith Moody to decide whether the course of the inquiry shouldfollow the horse-dealer next. Here was the cash account, showinghow the money had been spent. And there was Sharon, with his pipein his mouth and his dog on his lap, waiting for orders.

Moody wisely took time to consider before he committed himself toa decision. In the meanwhile, he ventured to recommend a newcourse of proceeding which Sharon's report had suggested to hismind.

"It seems to me," he said, "that we have taken the roundabout wayof getting to our end in view, when the straight road lay beforeus. If Mr. Hardyman has passed the stolen note, you know, as wellas I do, that he has passed it innocently. Instead of wastingtime and money in trying to trace a stranger, why not tell Mr.Hardyman what has happened, and ask him to give us the number ofthe note? You can't think of everything, I know; but it does seemstrange that this idea didn't occur to you before you went toFrance."

"Mr. Moody," said Old Sharon, "I shall have to cut youracquaintance. You are a man without faith; I don't like you. Asif I hadn't thought of Hardyman weeks since!" he exclaimedcontemptuously. "Are you really soft enough to suppose that agentleman in his position would talk about his money affairs tome? You know mighty little of him if you do. A fortnight since Isent one of my men (most respectably dressed) to hang about hisfarm, and see what information he could pick up. My man becamepainfully acquainted with the toe of a boot. It was thick, sir;and it was Hardyman's."

"I will run the risk of the boot," Moody replied, in his quietway.

"And put the question to Hardyman?"

"Yes."

"Very good," said Sharon. "If you get your answer from histongue, instead of his boot, the case is cleared up--unless Ihave made a complete mess of it. Look here, Moody! If you want todo me a good turn, tell the lawyer that the guinea-opinion wasthe right one. Let him know that _he_ was the fool, not you, whenhe buttoned up his pockets and refused to trust me. And, I say,"pursued Old Sharon, relapsing into his customary impudence,"you're in love, you know, with that nice girl. I like hermyself. When you marry her invite me to the wedding. I'll make asacrifice; I'll brush my hair and wash my face in honor of theoccasion."

Returning to his lodgings, Moody found two letters waiting on thetable. One of them bore the South Morden postmark. He opened thatletter first.

It was written by Miss Pink. The first lines contained an urgententreaty to keep the circumstances connected with the loss of thefive hundred pounds the strictest secret from everyone ingeneral, and from Hardyman in particular. The reasons assignedfor making the strange request were next expressed in theseterms: "My niece Isabel is, I am happy to inform you, engaged tobe married to Mr. Hardyman. If the slightest hint reached him ofher having been associated, no matter how cruelly and unjustly,with a suspicion of theft, the marriage would be broken off, andthe result to herself and to everybody connected with her, wouldbe disgrace for the rest of our lives."

On the blank space at the foot of the page a few words were addedin Isabel's writing: "Whatever changes there may be in my life,your place in my heart is one that no other person can fill: itis the place of my dearest friend. Pray write and d tell me thatyou are not distressed and not angry. My one anxiety is that youshould remember what I have always told you about the state of myown feelings. My one wish is that you will still let me love youand value you, as I might have loved and valued a brother."

The letter dropped from Moody's hand. Not a word--not even asigh--passed his lips. In tearless silence he submitted to thepang that wrung him. In tearless silence he contemplated thewreck of his life.