In two days
he had received an answer, informing him that the horse-dealer had been
called to England by the illness of a relative, and that he had hitherto
failed to send any address to which his letters could be forwarded.
Hearing this, and having exhausted his funds, Sharon had returned to
London. It now rested with Moody to decide whether the course of the
inquiry should follow the horse-dealer next. Here was the cash account,
showing how the money had been spent. And there was Sharon, with his
pipe in his mouth and his dog on his lap, waiting for orders.

Moody wisely took time to consider before he committed himself to a
decision. In the meanwhile, he ventured to recommend a new course of
proceeding which Sharon's report had suggested to his mind.

"It seems to me," he said, "that we have taken the roundabout way of
getting to our end in view, when the straight road lay before us. If Mr.
Hardyman has passed the stolen note, you know, as well as I do, that he
has passed it innocently. Instead of wasting time and money in trying to
trace a stranger, why not tell Mr. Hardyman what has happened, and ask
him to give us the number of the note? You can't think of everything, I
know; but it does seem strange that this idea didn't occur to you before
you went to France."

"Mr. Moody," said Old Sharon, "I shall have to cut your acquaintance.
You are a man without faith; I don't like you. As if I hadn't thought of
Hardyman weeks since!" he exclaimed contemptuously. "Are you really soft
enough to suppose that a gentleman in his position would talk about
his money affairs to me? You know mighty little of him if you do. A
fortnight since I sent one of my men (most respectably dressed) to hang
about his farm, and see what information he could pick up. My man became
painfully acquainted with the toe of a boot. It was thick, sir; and it
was Hardyman's."

"I will run the risk of the boot," Moody replied, in his quiet way.

"And put the question to Hardyman?"

"Yes."

"Very good," said Sharon. "If you get your answer from his tongue,
instead of his boot, the case is cleared up--unless I have made a
complete mess of it. Look here, Moody! If you want to do me a good turn,
tell the lawyer that the guinea-opinion was the right one. Let him know
that _he_ was the fool, not you, when he buttoned up his pockets and
refused to trust me. And, I say," pursued Old Sharon, relapsing into his
customary impudence, "you're in love, you kno