'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 someone 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 passionate 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 attitude 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.