had been paid into her own hands, in the deanery breakfast-parlour,
by a man she knew very well,--not the landlord himself, but one
bearing the landlord's name, whom she believed to the landlord's
brother, or at least his cousin. The man in question was named Daniel
Stringer, and he had been employed in "The Dragon of Wantly", as a
sort of clerk or managing man, as long as she had known it. The rent
had been paid to her by Daniel Stringer quite as often as by Daniel's
brother or cousin, John Stringer, who was, in truth, the landlord of
the hotel. When questioned by John respecting the persons employed at
the inn, she said that she did believe that there had been rumours of
something wrong. The house had been in the hands of the Stringers for
many years,--before the property had been purchased by her husband's
father,--and therefore there had been an unwillingness to remove
them; but gradually, so she said, there had come upon her and her
husband a feeling that the house must be put into other hands. "But
did you say nothing about the check?" John asked. "Yes, I said a good
deal about it. I asked why a cheque of Mr. Soames's was brought to me,
instead of being taken to the bank for money; and Stringer explained
to me that they were not very fond of going to the bank, as they owed
money there, but that I could pay it into my account. Only I kept my
account at the other bank."

"You might have paid it in there?" said Johnny.

"I suppose I might, but I didn't. I gave it to poor Mr. Crawley
instead,--like a fool, as I know now that I was. And so I have
brought all this trouble on him and on her; and now I must rush home,
without waiting for the dean, as fast as the trains will carry me."

Eames offered to accompany her, and this offer was accepted. "It is
hard upon you, though," she said; "you will see nothing of Florence.
Three hours in Venice, and six in Florence, and no hours at all
anywhere else, will be a hard fate to you on your first trip to
Italy." But Johnny said "Excelsior" to himself once more, and thought
of Lily Dale, who was still in London, hoping that she might hear of
his exertions; and he felt, perhaps, also that it would be pleasant
to return with a dean's wife, and never hesitated. Nor would it do,
he thought, for him to be absent in the excitement caused by the news
of Mr. Crawley's innocence and injuries. "I don't care a bit about
that," he said. "Of course, I should like to see Florence, and, of
cou