“Well, but isn't there any other receptacle into which he may have placed it? Think now. Don't stand staring there, but hustle about and find it.”
“Captain Redfern, I'm doing my best to think, but my head's not strong, and I've been terribly shook, sir. There are the drawers of his private table; it's the only place I can think of.”
The drawers of the desk were opened one by one, and their contents overhauled. Memoranda, important letters that required his personal attention, stationery, and other matters of a similar nature, were there, but no will.
“I'm quite lost, sir,” said Johnny. “It's the most extraordinary thing! He would never have distroyed it without telling me.”
“Come along, you boy,” said Captain Redfern to the office lad. “You can go,” he added to Pounce. “I keep you on at your salary another week, during which time you will be always here in case you're wanted. At the end of the week you go. Take this as notice to quit. Stop; seal up the inner room;” and sealed up the inner room was.
Captain Redfern and the boy got into the hansom, and drove off to Russell Square. Old Johnny Pounce, completely staggered by what had occurred, locked the outer door, and trudged back through the cold slush to Great Queen Street.
His wife and son were still sitting up, talking over the event of the evening, when Johnny entered. The mother had evidently been recapitulating the chances of Johnny Pounce having been comfortably provided for;
