it
the rustle of banknotes was heard, and the chink of sovereigns, and
through the meshes of the purse could be seen the white of valuable
paper and the tawny orange discs for which mankind is so ready to commit
all sorts of sin. Thomas Chadwick could not forbear to open the
contrivance, and having opened it he could not forbear to count its
contents. There were, in that purse, seven five-pound notes, fifteen
sovereigns, and half a sovereign, and the purse itself was probably
worth twelve or fifteen pounds as mere gold.

"There's some that would leave their heads behind 'em if they could!"
observed Paul Ford.

Thomas Chadwick glowered at him, as if to warn him that in the presence
of Thomas Chadwick noble dames could not be insulted with impunity.

"Didn't I say she was a lady?" said Chadwick, holding up the purse as
proof. "It's lucky it's _me_ as has laid hands on it!" he added, plainly
implying that the other occupants of the car were thieves whenever they
had the chance.

"Well," said Paul Ford, "no doubt you'll get your reward all right!"

"It's not--" Chadwick began; but at that moment the driver stopped the
car with a jerk, in obedience to a waving umbrella. The conductor, who
had not yet got what would have been his sea-legs if he had been captain
of an Atlantic liner, lurched forward, and then went out on to the
platform to greet a new fare, and his sentence was never finished.

III

That day happened to be the day of Thomas Chadwick's afternoon off; at
least, of what the tram company called an afternoon off. That is to say,
instead of ceasing work at eleven-thirty p.m. he finished at six-thirty
p.m. In the ordinary way the company housed its last Moorthorne car at
eleven-thirty (Moorthorne not being a very nocturnal village), and gave
the conductors the rest of the evening to spend exactly as they liked;
but once a week, in turn, it generously allowed them a complete
afternoon beginning at six-thirty.

Now on this afternoon, instead of going home for tea, Thomas Chadwick,
having delivered over his insignia and takings to the inspector in
Bursley market-place, rushed away towards a car bound for Hillport. A
policeman called out to him:

"Hi! Chadwick!"

"What's up?" asked Chadwick, unwillingly stopping.

"Mrs Clayton Vernon's been to the station an hour ago or hardly, about a
purse as she says she thinks she must have left in your car. I was just
coming across to tell your inspector."

"Tel