what yer'd got in your box? Did yer ever show
it to me, or Mary Anne there, or any livin' soul in Clinton? Did yer?"

She waited, hawk-like, for the answer.

"Did yer, John?" repeated Saunders, judicially.

John groaned, rocking himself to and fro.

"Noa. I niver did--I niver did," he said. "Nobbut to Eliza--an' she's
gone--she's gone!"

"Keep your 'ead, John," said Saunders, putting out a calming hand.
"Let's get to the bottom o' this, quiet an' _reg'lar_. An' yer didn't
tell any one 'ow much yer 'ad?"

"Nobbut Eliza--nobbut Eliza!" said the old man again.

"Yer didn't tell _me_, I know," said Saunders, blandly.

John seemed to shrink together under the smith's glance. If only he
had not been a jealous fool, and had left it with Saunders.

Saunders, however, refrained for the present from drawing his
self-evident moral. He sat twirling his cap between his knees, and his
shrewd eye travelled round the kitchen, coming back finally to Bessie,
who was washing and drying diligently. As he watched her cool
movements Saunders felt the presence of an enemy worthy of his steel,
and his emulation rose.

"I understan', Mrs. Costrell," he said, speaking with great civility,
"as the cupboard where John put his money is a cupboard _hon_ the
stairs? Not in hany room, but _hon_ the stairs? Yer'll kindly correck
me if I say anythin' wrong."

Bessie nodded.

"Aye--top o' the stairs--right-'and side," groaned John.

"An' John locked it hisself, an' tuk the key?" Saunders proceeded.

John plucked at his neck again, and, dumbly, held out the key.

"An' there worn't nothin' wrong wi' the lock when yo' opened it, John?"

"Nothin', Muster Saunders--I'll take my davy."

Saunders ruminated.

"Theer's a cupboard there," he said suddenly, raising his hand and
pointing to the cupboard beside the fireplace. "Is't anythin' like the
cupboard on th' stairs, John?"

"Aye, 'tis!" said John, startled and staring. "Aye, 'tis, Muster
Saunders!"

Saunders rose.

"Per'aps," he said slowly, "Mrs. Costrell will do us the favour ov
lettin' us hexamine that 'ere cupboard?"

He walked across to it. Bessie's hand dropped; she turned sharply,
supporting herself against the table, and watched him, her chest
heaving.

"There's no key 'ere," said Saunders, stooping to look at the lock.
"Try yours, John."

John rushed forward, but Bessie put herself in the way.

"What are yer meddlin' with my 'ouse for?" she said fiercely.