at no inquiry should be made.

"I beg your pardon," returned Mr. Judkin, "but we have nothing to do
with you in this matter, which is one between your uncle and ourselves.
If he should take this opinion, and will either come here himself or let
me see him in his sick-room----"

"Quite impossible," cried Morris.

"Well, then, you see," said Mr. Judkin, "how my hands are tied. The
whole affair must go at once into the hands of the police."

Morris mechanically folded the cheque and restored it to his
pocket-book.

"Good-morning," said he, and scrambled somehow out of the bank.

"I don't know what they suspect," he reflected; "I can't make them out,
their whole behaviour is thoroughly unbusiness-like. But it doesn't
matter; all's up with everything. The money has been paid; the police
are on the scent; in two hours that idiot Pitman will be nabbed--and the
whole story of the dead body in the evening papers."

If he could have heard what passed in the bank after his departure he
would have been less alarmed, perhaps more mortified.

"That was a curious affair, Mr. Bell," said Mr. Judkin.

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Bell, "but I think we have given him a fright."

"O, we shall hear no more of Mr. Morris Finsbury," returned the other;
"it was a first attempt, and the house have dealt with us so long that I
was anxious to deal gently. But I suppose, Mr. Bell, there can be no
mistake about yesterday? It was old Mr. Finsbury himself?"

"There could be no possible doubt of that," said Mr. Bell with a
chuckle. "He explained to me the principles of banking."

"Well, well," said Mr. Judkin. "The next time he calls ask him to step
into my room. It is only proper he should be warned."

CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH WILLIAM DENT PITMAN TAKES LEGAL ADVICE

Norfolk Street, King's Road--jocularly known among Mr. Pitman's lodgers
as "Norfolk Island"--is neither a long, a handsome, nor a pleasing
thoroughfare. Dirty, undersized maids-of-all-work issue from it in
pursuit of beer, or linger on its sidewalk listening to the voice of
love. The cat's-meat man passes twice a day. An occasional organ-grinder
wanders in and wanders out again, disgusted. In holiday-time the street
is the arena of the young bloods of the neighbourhood, and the
house-holders have an opportunity of studying the manly art of
self-defence. And yet Norfolk Street has one claim to be respectable,
for it contains not a single shop--unless you count the public-hou