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. "n.o.bbut 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?"

"n.o.bbut Eliza--n.o.bbut 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. "Just mek yourselves scarce, all the lot o' yer! I don't know nothin' about his money, an' I'll not have yer _insultin'_ me in me own place! Get out o' my kitchen, if _yo'_ please!"

Saunders b.u.t.toned his coat.

"Sartinly, Mrs. Costrell, sartinly," he said, with emphasis. "Come along, John. Yer must get Watson and put it in 'is hands. 'Ee's the law, is Watson. Maybe as Mrs. Costrell 'ull listen to _'im_."

Mary Anne ran to Bessie in despair.

"Oh, Bessie, Bessie, my dear--don't let 'em get Watson; let 'em look into 't theirselves--it'll be better for yer, my dear, it _will_."

Bessie looked from one to the other, panting. Then she turned back to the table.

"_I_ don' care what they do," she said, with sullen pa.s.sion. "I'm not stannin' in any one's way, I tell yer. The more they finds out the better I'm pleased."

The look of incipient laughter on Saunders's countenance became more p.r.o.nounced--that is to say, the left-hand corner of his mouth twitched a little higher. But it was rare for him to complete the act, and he was not in the least minded to do so now. He beckoned to John, and John, trembling, took off his keys and gave them to him, pointing to that which belonged to the treasure cupboard.

Saunders slipped it into the lock before him. It moved with ease, backwards and forwards.

"H'm! that's strange," he said, taking out the key and turning it over thoughtfully in his hand. "Yer didn't think as there were _another_ key in this 'ouse that would open your cupboard, did yer, Bolderfield?"

The old man sank weeping on a chair. He was too broken, too exhausted, to revile Bessie any more.

"Yo' tell her, Muster Saunders," he said, "to gie it me back! I'll not ast for all on it, but some on it, Muster Saunders--some on it. She _can't_ 'a spent it. She must 'a got it somewhere. Yo' speak to her, Muster Saunders. It's a crule thing to rob an old man like me--an' her own mother's brother. Yo' speak to 'er--an' yo', too, Mary Anne."

He looked piteously from one to the other. But his misery only seemed to goad Bessie to fresh fury. She turned upon him, arms akimbo.

"Oh! an' of course it must be _me_ as robs yer! It couldn't be n.o.body else, could it? There isn't tramps, an' thieves, an' rogues--'undreds of 'em--going about o' nights? Nary one, I believe yer! There isn't another thief in Clinton Magna, n.o.bbut Bessie Costrell, is ther? But yer'll not blackguard me for nothin', I can tell yer. Now will yer jest oblige me by takin' yourselves off? I shall 'ave to clean up after yer"--she pointed scornfully to the marks of their muddy boots on the floor--"an' it's gettin' late."

"One moment, Mrs. Costrell," said Saunders, gently rubbing his hands.

"With your leave, John and I 'ull just inspeck the cupboard _hup_stairs before leavin'--an' then we'll clear out double quick. But we'll 'ave one try if we can't 'it on somethin' as 'ull show 'ow the thief got in--with your leave, of _coorse_."

Bessie hesitated; then she threw some spoons she held into the water beside her with a violent gesture.

"Go where yer wants," she said, and returned to her washing.

Saunders began to climb the narrow stairs, with John behind him. But the smith's small eyes had a puzzled look.

"There's _somethin'_ rum," he said to himself. "'Ow _did_ she spend it all? 'As she been carryin' on with some one be'ind Isaac's back, or is Isaac in it too? It's one or t'other."

Meanwhile, Bessie, left behind, was consumed by a pa.s.sionate effort of memory. _What_ had she done with the key the night before, after she had locked the cupboard? Her brain was blurred. The blow--the fall--seemed to have confused even the remembrance of the scene with Timothy. How was it, for instance, that she had put the box back in the wrong place? She put her hand to her head, trying in an anguish to recollect the exact details.

The little widow sat, meanwhile, a few yards away, her thin hands clasped on her lap in her usual att.i.tude of humble entreaty; her soft, grey eyes, brimmed with tears, were fixed on Bessie. Bessie did not know that she was there--that she existed.

The door had closed after the two men. Bessie could hear vague movements, but nothing more. Presently she could bear it no longer.

She went to the door and opened it.

She was just in time. By the light of the bit of candle that John held, she saw Saunders sitting on the stair, the shadow of his huge frame thrown black on the white wall; she saw him stoop suddenly, as a bird pounces; she heard an exclamation--then a sound of metal.

Her involuntary cry startled the men above.