ant that," interrupted Sampson, "or we have nothing to go
upon. Granted that he put the money into the till, one of three things
happened. Miss Reed was tempted and helped herself to the five-pound
note----"

Jim sprang to his feet, he clenched his big fist, and made a step
toward Sampson, who sat, slight, small, and unprovoked, in his chair.

"Sit down, won't you?" he said.

"Only I want to strangle you and kick you out of the room," said Jim.

"Well, I beg of you to refrain. I told you that I was a blunt body. I
don't think for a moment that Miss Reed took the money. In that case,
one of my remaining two suppositions must have happened; either the
note is still in the drawer, pushed out of sight, or under some loose
change--hidden, the Lord knows where--or somebody did get to the till
without Miss Reed seeing that person. My belief, and my knowledge of
human nature, induce me to think that the third idea is the right one."

"But no one could," began Jim.

"You can't say that no one could. Lor' bless you, the artful devices
of some folks is past counting. Now tell me, what sort are the other
girls in the shop?"

"Oh, well enough--a very respectable lot."

"You don't think any of them have a spite against your young woman?"

"Well, no, I don't suppose they have--that is----"

"Ah, you hesitate--that means that one of them has. Now speak out,
Jim. All depends on your being candid."

"Oh, yes! I'll be candid enough," said Jim; "I never saw anything
wrong with the young women in the shop. Of course, except Alison, I
have not had much to do with any of them, but Ally once said to me that
a girl called Louisa Clay had, she thought, a spite agen her. I can't
imagine why, I'm sure."

"This is interesting," said Sampson. "Mark my words, Louisa Clay is at
the bottom of the business. Now tell me, what sort is she?"

"A handsome, well-mannered girl," replied Jim. "She's about twenty
years of age, I should say, with a dash of the gypsy in her, for she
has coal-black hair and flashing eyes."

"Oh, you seem to have studied her face a bit."

"Well, she is not the sort that you could pass," said Jim, coloring;
"besides, she wouldn't stand it."

"A jealous sort, would you say?"

"How can I tell?"

"Yes you can, Jim Hardy. I see the end of this trouble, blest ef I
don't. How long has Alison been in the shop?"

"Six months."

"How long have you been there?"

"Oh, several years! I was apprentic