The Adventures of Don Lavington | Page 8

George Manville Fenn
looked. Call your wife. Perhaps she may have found
them when sweeping."
"Not she, sir," said Jem. "If she had she'd ha' told me. 'Sides, how could
they ha' got on the floor?"
"That remains to be proved, Wimble," said Uncle Josiah, drily. "Call
your wife."
Jem went to the door, rubbing his ear, and as it happened, seeing his
wife outside the cottage, telegraphed to her to come by working one
arm about furiously.
Little Mrs Wimble came up in a hurry, looking scared.
"Take off that there dirty apron," whispered Jem, making a dash at the
offending garment, and snatching back his hand bleeding from the
scratch of the pin by which it was fastened.
"Look at that," he began.
"Then you shouldn't--"
"Silence!" said Uncle Josiah. "Mrs Wimble, did you sweep up this
room to-day?"
"That I did, sir, and dusted too, and if there's any dust, it must be an--"
"Hush! Don't talk so. Listen to me. Did you find any money on the
floor?"

"Sakes alive, sir, no."
"You are quite sure?"
"Oh yes, sir, quite sure. Have you dropped anything?"
"Yes! No! That will do."
Mrs Wimble stared.
"Don't you hear?" whispered Jem. "Be off!"
The little woman gave him an angry look, and then hurried from the
office, looking put out and hurt.
"This money must be found," said Uncle Josiah sternly, as soon as they
were alone. "You are sure that you have seen no more, Lindon?"
"Quite, uncle. I'm sorry I forgot about the guinea I found."
"Yes!" said Uncle Josiah, giving him a quick searching look. "You are
quite certain, Wimble?"
"Me, sir? Oh, yes; I'm moral sartain."
"I should be sorry to suspect any one, and behave unjustly, but I must
have this matter cleared up. Michael Bannock is away, and I cannot
conceive his being absent without money, unless he is ill. Wimble, go
and see."
"Yes, sir," said the yard-man, with alacrity; and he went off shaking his
head, as if all this was a puzzle beyond his capacity to comprehend.
"You had better go to your desk, Lindon," said Uncle Josiah, coldly.
Don started, and mounted his stool, but he could not write. His brain
was confused; and from time to time he glanced at the stern-looking old
merchant, and tried to grasp his thoughts. "Surely uncle can't suspect
me--surely he can't suspect me!" he found himself saying again, and the

trouble seemed to increase till he felt as if he must speak out and say
how sorry he was that he had picked up the money and forgotten all
about it, when Jem returned.
"He arn't ill, sir," said the man eagerly, "I found him close by, at the
Little Half Moon, in the back street."
"Drinking?"
"Yes, sir, and treating a lot of his mates. He wanted me to have some,
and when I wouldn't, he said I should, and emptied half a glass over me.
See here."
He held up one of his broad skirts which was liberally splashed.
Uncle Josiah frowned, and took a turn or two up and down the office.
Then he stopped before Jem.
"Go round to Smithers the constable. You know: the man who came
when the rum was broached."
"Yes, sir, I know."
"Ask Smithers to bring Michael Bannock round here. I must clear this
matter up."
"Yes, sir," said Jem; and he hurried out, while Don drew a long breath.
"Uncle does not suspect me," he said to himself. "The scoundrel! He
must have taken advantage of your back being turned to come in here.
You did not notice anything, Lindon?"
"No, uncle, and I hardly think he could have been left alone."
"But the money is missing; some of it was dropped; this man is always
penniless; he has not drawn his wages, and yet he is half tipsy and
treating his companions. I hope I am not suspecting him wrongfully,
but it looks bad, Lindon, it looks bad."

The old merchant sat down and began to write. So did Don, who felt
better now, and the time glided on till there were the sounds of feet
heard in the yard, and directly after Mike, looking very red-eyed and
flushed, entered the office, half pushed in by Jem Wimble and a
hard-faced ugly man, who had a peculiar chip out of, or dent in, his
nose.
"Morn', master," said Mike, boisterously. "Couldn't yer get on without
yer best man i' th' yard?"
"Silence, sir!" cried Uncle Josiah, turning round, and glaring
magisterially at the culprit.
"Take yer hat off, can't yer?" cried Jem, knocking it off for him, and
then picking it up and handing it.
"Give man time, Jem Wimble," said Mike, with a grimace. "Want to
pay me what you owes me, master?"
"Hold your tongue,
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