y was changed by you on
Saturday night."

A tremendous blow steadies some men, at least for a time. Tom quietly
replied--

"Well, Mr. Furze, what then?"

"What then?" said Mrs. Furze, with a little titter; "the evidence seems
complete."

"A marked coin," continued Mr. Furze. "I may say at once that I do not
propose to prosecute, although if I were to take proceedings and to
produce the evidence of Jim and his brother with regard to Humphries, I
should obtain a conviction. But I cannot bring myself to--to--the--forget
your past services, and I wish to show no unchristian malice, even for
such a crime as yours. You are discharged, and there are a week's
wages."

"I am not sure," said Mrs. Furze, "that we are not doing wrong in the eye
of the law, and that we might not ourselves be prosecuted for conniving
at a felony."

Tom was silent for a moment, but it never entered into his head to ask
for corroboration or any details.

"I will ask you both"--he spoke with deliberation and emphasis--"do you,
both of you, believe I am a thief?"

"Really," said Mrs. Furze, "what a question to put! Two men declare
money was paid to you for which you never accounted, and a marked
sovereign, to which you had no right, was in your possession last
Saturday evening. You seem rather absurd, Mr. Catchpole."

"Mrs. Furze, I repeat my question: do you believe I am a thief?"

"We are not going to prosecute you: let that be enough for you; I decline
to say any more than it suits me to say: you have had the reasons for
dismissal; ask yourself whether they are conclusive or not, and what the
verdict of a jury would be."

"Then I tell you, Mrs. Furze, and I tell you, Mr. Furze, before the all-
knowing God, who is in this room at this moment, that I am utterly
innocent, and that somebody has wickedly lied."

"Mr. Catchpole," replied Mrs. Furze, "the introduction of the sacred name
in such a conjunction is, I may say, rather shocking, and even
blasphemous. Here is your money: you had better go."

Tom left the money and walked out of the room.

"Good-bye, Phoebe."

"Are you going to leave, Tom?"

"Discharged!"

"I knew there was some villainy going on," said Phoebe, greatly excited,
as she took Tom's hand and wrung it, "but you aren't really going for
good?"

"Yes;" and he was out in the street.

"H'm," said Mr. Furze, "it's very disagreeable. I don't quite like it."

"Don't quite like it?--why, what _would_ you have d