th to me that
you are the messenger of glad tidings, whose feet are beautiful upon
the mountains."

"Beautiful!" said Toogood. "By George, I should think they are
beautiful! Don't you hear me tell you that we have found out all
about the cheque, and that you're as right as a trivet?" They were
still on the little causeway leading from the school up to the road,
and Henry Grantly was waiting for them at the small wicket-gate. "Mr
Crawley," said the major, "I congratulate you with all my heart. I
could not but accompany my friend, Mr. Toogood, when he brought you
this good news."

"I do not even yet altogether comprehend what has been told to me,"
said Crawley, now standing out on the road between the other two men.
"I am doubtless dull,--very dull. May I beg some clearer word of
explanation before I ask you to go with me to my wife?"

"The cheque was given to you by my aunt Eleanor."

"Your aunt Eleanor!" said Crawley, now altogether in the clouds. Who
was the major's aunt Eleanor? Though he had, no doubt, at different
times heard all the circumstances of the connexion, he had never
realised the fact that his daughter's lover was the nephew of his old
friend Arabin.

"Yes; by my aunt, Mrs. Arabin."

"She put it into the envelope with the notes," said
Toogood,--"slipped it in without saying a word to any one. I never
heard of a woman doing such a mad thing in my life before. If she had
died, or if we hadn't caught her, where should we all have been? Not
but what I think I should have run Dan Stringer to ground too, and
worked it out of him."

"Then, after all it was given to me by the dean?" said Crawley,
drawing himself up.

"It was in the envelope, but the dean did not know it," said the
major.

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Crawley. "I was sure of it. I knew it. Weak as
my mind may be,--and at times it is very weak,--I was certain that I
could not have erred in such a matter. The more I struggled with my
memory the more fixed with me became the fact,--which I had forgotten
but for a moment,--that the document had formed a part of that small
packet handed to me by the dean. But look you, sirs,--bear with me
yet for a moment. I said that it was so, and the dean denied it."

"The dean did not know it, man," said Toogood, almost in a passion.

"Bear with me yet awhile. So far have I been from misdoubting
the dean,--whom I have long known to be in all things a true and
honest gentleman,--that I postponed the elabora