Mr. Dryce was in a brown study, sitting looking at the fire, and sipping
a glass of hot negus, when Mrs. Harris knocked at the door.

"Excuse me, sir, but have you missed your keys?"

"Hang the keys!" said Mr. Dryce absently. "I beg your pardon, Mrs.
Harris; sit down a moment. I was thinking what I could buy our little
fellow for a present."

"But these keys, sir? I took them out of the bosom of baby's frock when
I undressed him. How he got them I can't tell."

Mr. Dryce took the keys in his hand and looked at them mechanically;
then he started and singled out one particular key, held it nearer the
light, at the same time comparing it with one of a bunch which he took
from his own pocket. He had turned stern and pale.

"I want you to come downstairs with me, Mrs. Harris," he said: "these
are the keys Mr. Jaggers has lost, and I'm afraid I shall want a
policeman."

First the door of the great iron safe let into the wall. Mr. Dryce knew
that it was a cunningly-made lock, and thought that no key but his would
open it. It opened easily with Jaggers's key, however; and from the
lower drawer was missing all the property which in those days were often
kept in such places--bills, gold, and notes to the value of four
thousand five hundred pounds.

With feverish haste the old man unlocked the desk and the brass-bound
box within it. The latter contained all the missing property, evidently
placed there for immediate removal. In the desk were found bills,
letters, and correspondence, a glance at which disclosed a long system
of fraud and peculation. Above all, amongst the loose papers were the
letters that Robert sent to his father, and those which had been written
by himself in repentance of the harsh parting which he had brought about
with his lost son.

While they were both looking with mute astonishment at these evidences
of Jaggers's villany, there came a low knocking at the door, and two men
entered, one of them a broad, brown-bearded man in a half seafaring
dress, the other a policeman.

"A clerk of yours, named Jaggers," said the latter. "I want to know
whether he has robbed you, or if you have reason to suspect him. This
party has given him in custody on another charge."

There was a loud scream, and Mrs. Harris fell into the arms of the
stranger, who had taken her aside to whisper to her.

"She is my wife," said he to Mr. Dryce. "I am the person to whom you
wrote, and I have brought the remittance with me from