ends quitted the
place and went to their respective homes.

"Very odd and absolutely unaccountable," observed Mr Blurt, as he sat
next morning perusing the letters above referred to, "here's the same
thing occurred again. Brownlow writes that he sent a cheque a week ago,
and no one has heard of it. That rascal who made off with the cash
could not have stolen it, because he never stole cheques,--for fear, no
doubt, of being caught,--and this was only for a small amount. Then,
here is a cheque come all right from Thomson. Why should one appear and
the other disappear?"

"Could the rats have made away with it?" suggested Aspel, who had told
his patron of the previous night's incident.

"Rats might destroy letters, but they could not eat them--at least, not
during the few hours of the night that they lie on the floor. No; the
thing is a mystery. I cannot help thinking that the Post-Office is to
blame. I shall make inquiries. I am determined to get to the bottom of
it."

So it ever is with mankind. People make mistakes, or are guilty of
carelessness, and straightway they lay the blame--not only without but
against reason--on broader shoulders than their own. That wonderful and
almost perfect British Post-Office delivers quickly, safely, and in good
condition above fourteen hundred millions of letters etcetera in the
year, but some half-dozen letters, addressed to Messrs. Blurt and
Company, have gone a-missing,--therefore the Post-Office is to blame!

Full of this idea Mr Enoch Blurt put on his hat with an irascible fling
and went off to the City. Arrived at St. Martin's-le-Grand he made for
the principal entrance. At any other time he would have, been struck
with the grandeur of the buildings. He would have paused and admired
the handsome colonnade of the old office and the fine front of the new
buildings opposite, but Mr Blurt could see nothing except missing
letters. Architecture appealed to him in vain. Perhaps his state of
irritability was increased by a vague suspicion that all Government
officials were trained and almost bound to throw obstacles in the way of
free inquiry.

"I want," said he, planting himself defiantly in front of an official
who encountered him in the passage, "to see the--the--Secretary, the--
the--Postmaster-General, the chief of the Post-Office, whoever he may
be. There is my card."

"Certainly, sir, will you step this way?"

The official spoke with such civility, and led