"They swear that no one could get to it," replied Jim. "The till is, of course, in the master's desk, and Alison was close to it--she scarcely left that part of the shop--at any rate, only to move a foot or two away, before the customer arrived whom she was to serve. She served her customer, and went to ask Mr. Shaw for change. He told her that the key was in the till, and that she might help herself. She took the change out and then locked the till. Alison is anxious enough to be cleared, you may be quite sure, but she can't see herself how it was possible that anyone else could have got to the till from the moment the five-pound note was put into it until she herself took change out and then locked it."

"Yes, of course," said Sampson, "so she thinks. Now, one of three things is plain. You'll forgive me if I speak right out quite plainly, my boy?"

"Of course," answered Hardy, with a faint smile. "You were always famous for telling your mind when you liked, Sampson."

"And for keeping it back when I liked," retorted Sampson. "I wouldn't be much of a detective if I didn't do that--still, this is my view of the case in a nutsh.e.l.l. One of three things must have happened--that is, granted that Mr. Shaw did put the five-pound note into the till."

"Why, of course he did," said Jim, in surprise.

"We must grant 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 pa.s.s," 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 apprentice first, and then I rose step by step. I have been with Shaw a matter of six years."

"And how long has Louisa Clay been there?"

"I can't exactly remember, but I should say a year and a half."

Sampson now rose to his feet.

"There we are," he said. "You are a good-looking chap, Jim; you are taller than us London fellows, and you've got a pleasing way with you; you were civil to Louisa before Alison came. Come now, the truth."

"Well, she talked to me now and then," answered the young fellow, coloring again.

"Ah, I guess she did, and you talked to her; in fact, you kept company with her, or as good."

"No, that I didn't."

"Well, she thought you did, or hoped you would; so it all comes to the same. Then Alison arrived, and you gave Louisa up. Isn't that so?"

"I never thought about Louisa one way or the other, I a.s.sure you, Sampson. Ally and I were friends from the first. I hadn't known her a fortnight before I loved her more than all the rest of the world. I have been courting her ever since. I never gave a thought to another woman."

"Bless me! what an innocent young giant you are; but another woman gave you a thought, my hearty, and of course she was jealous of Miss Reed, and if she didn't want the money for reasons of her own, she was very glad to put a spoke in her wheel."

"Oh, come now, it isn't right to charge a girl like that," said Hardy.

"Right or wrong, I believe I've hit the nail on the head. Anyhow, that's the track for us to work. Where does this girl Clay live?"

"With her father and mother in Sh.o.r.editch. He's a p.a.w.nbroker, and by no means badly off."

"You seem to have gone to their house."

"A few times on Sunday evenings. Louisa asked me."

"Have you gone lately?"

"Not to say very lately."

"Well, what do you say to you and me strolling round there this evening?"

"This evening!" cried Jim. "Oh, come now," he added, "I haven't the heart; that I haven't."

"You have no s.p.u.n.k in you. I thought you wanted to clear your girl."

"Oh, if you put it in that way, Sampson, of course I'll do anything; but I can't see your meaning. I do want, G.o.d knows, to clear Alison, but I don't wish to drag another girl into it."

"You shan't; that will be my business. After all, I see I must take this thing up; you are not the fellow for it. The detective line, Jim, means walking on eggs without breaking 'em. You'd smash every egg in the farmyard. The detective line means guile; it means a dash of the knowing at every step. You are as innocent as a babe, and you haven't the guile of an unfledged chicken. You leave this matter with me. I begin to think I'd like to see Miss Clay. I admire that handsome, dashing sort of girl--yes, that I do. All I want you to do, Jim, is to introduce me to the young lady. If her father is a p.a.w.nbroker he must have a bit of money to give her, and a gel with a fat purse is just my style. You come along to the Clays and give me a footing in the house, and that's all I ask."

Jim hesitated.