"Not she. I told Mrs. Knox so: but she scoffed at me."
"That Miss Carey is innocent as the day, that she is an upright, gentle, Christian girl, I will stake my life upon," said Dr. Knox. "How the note can have gone is another matter."
"Are you at all interested in finding it out?" questioned Mr. Shuttleworth.
"Certainly I am. Every one ought to be, I think."
The surgeon took his cigar from his mouth. "I'll tell you my opinion, if you care to know it," he said. "The note was burnt."
"Well, it is the most likely solution of the matter that I can come to. Either burnt, or else was blown away."
"But why do you say this?" questioned Dr. Knox.
"It was a particularly windy day. The glass-doors of the room were left open while the house ran about in a fright, attending to the child, young Dick. A flimsy bit of bank-paper, lying on the table, would get blown about like a feather in a gale. Whether it got into the fire, caught by the current of the chimney, or whether it sailed out-of-doors and disappeared in the air, is a question I can't undertake to solve. Rely upon it, Knox, it was one of the two: and I should bet upon the fire."
It was just the clue Dr. Knox had been wishing for. But he did not think the whole fault lay with the wind: he had another idea.
Lefford had a shock in the morning. Bertie Tamlyn was dead. The news came to Dr. Knox in a note from Mr. Tamlyn, which was delivered whilst he was dressing. "You will stay for the funeral, Arnold," were the concluding words. And as Dr. Knox wanted to be at home a little longer on his own account, he wrote to London to say that business was temporarily detaining him. He then went to see what he could do for Mr. Tamlyn, and got back to Rose Villa for dinner.
Watching for an opportunity--which did not occur until late in the afternoon--Dr. Knox startled the servants by walking into the kitchen, and sitting down. Mrs. Knox had gone off in the pony-chaise; the children were out with the new governess. The kitchen and the servants were alike smartened-up for the rest of the day. Eliza, the cook, was making a new pudding-cloth; Sally was ironing.
"I wish to ask you both a few questions," said Dr. Knox, taking out his note-book and pencil. "It is not possible that Miss Carey can be allowed to lie under the disgraceful accusation that was brought against her, and I am about to try and discover what became of the bank-note. Mrs. Knox was not in the house at the time, and therefore cannot give me the details."