By the end of the second hour his uneasiness had increased to
consternation. The house was as silent as a tomb, the sitting-room was
still in a state of chaos, and a healthy appetite would persist in
putting ominous and inconvenient questions as to dinner. Whistling a
cheerful air he went downstairs again and put his head in at the kitchen.
Selina sat in the same attitude, and when he coughed made no response.

"What about dinner?" he said, at last, in a voice which strove to be
unconcerned.

"Go away," said Selina, thickly. "I don't want no dinner."

The captain started. "But I do," he said, feelingly.

"You'd better get it yourself, then," replied Miss Vickers, without
turning her head. "I might steal a potato or something."

"Don't talk nonsense," said the other, nervously.

"I'm not a thief," continued Miss Vickers. "I work as hard as anybody in
Binchester, and nobody can ever say that I took the value of a farthing
from them. If I'm poor I'm honest."

"Everybody knows that," said the captain, with fervour.

"You said you didn't want the paper," said Selina, turning at last and
regarding him fiercely. "I heard you with my own ears, else I wouldn't
have taken it. And if they had come back you'd have had your share. You
didn't want the treasure yourself and you didn't want other people to
have it. And it wasn't yours, because I heard you say so."