Nick valiantly. "The police of this town are a fine set
of men."

"How did they find it?" she asked eagerly.

Nick looked grave.

"Well, it seems there's--er--a kind of secret concerned," he explained.
"The thing required is that we don't ask questions. And perhaps you'll
agree, for what you want is the bag."

Desperately obliterating all expression from his face, and hoping that his
eyes were not anxious, Nick took from his pocket a gold bag whose
diamonds, alternating with sapphires, sparkled as the sunshine struck
them.

Angela accepted it delightedly, with but a superficial glance at the bag
itself. "Why, there's something inside!" she exclaimed.

"Only money," he hurried to break the news. "Not the purse, nor the
check-book. I'm mighty sorry, but they're both gone. The police did their
best. May get them later."

Angela opened the bag. "Five hundred dollars," she said counting rapidly.
"Now, isn't that odd? I didn't think I had quite so much! How queer the
_money_ should have come back without the purse it was in, and especially
the check-book. One would think that would be of little value to a thief."

"There's no accounting for a thief's ways," said Nick solemnly. "And I
guess a lady can't always remember to a dollar or two what money she had."

"No-o," Angela admitted. "But--it looks different, somehow." She glanced
again at the outside of the bag, and Nick's heart jumped. "The _bag_ looks
different, too," she said. "Newer, and----"

"As a matter of fact I took the liberty of having it cleaned up before it
came back to your hands."

"But the stones----"

"The worst of it is they had to be put back in again," said Nick. "That
gives a different look."

"The thief had taken out the stones?"

"Somebody had, anyhow--some of them."

"And I'm not to ask questions! It's the most mysterious thing I ever
heard."

"I expect it's one of those cases where 'the least said soonest mended,'"
Nick remarked.

"But do _you_ know who took the bag, and what happened?"

"No more than you do. I--just had to make the best of a bad business. I
hope you don't think I did wrong?"

"No, indeed. That would be ungrateful. Only--it's very strange. I suppose
this _must_ be my bag, but----"

"You can take your oath of that, anyhow. And it's your money."

"More than I thought I had. And the bag looks prettier. It's as if I'd
cast my bread on the waters and it had returned--buttered. One good thing
is, I can pay you. F