John fell upon it with a cry.

'Aye, Saunders, it's mine. Look ye 'ere, Isaac, it's a king's 'ead. It's
Willum--not Victory. I saved that un up when I wor a lad at Mason's, an
look yer, there's my mark in the corner--every arf-crown I ever 'ad I
marked like that.'

He held it under Isaac's staring eyes, pointing to the little scratched
cross in the corner.

''Ere's another, John--two on 'em,' said Saunders, pulling out a second
and a third.

John, in a passion of hope, identified them both.

'Then,' said Saunders, slapping the table solemnly, 'theer's nobbut one
more thing to say--an sorry I am to say it. Them coins, Isaac'--he
pointed a slow finger at Bessie, whose white, fierce face moved
involuntarily--'them 'arf-crowns wor paid across the bar lasst night, or
the night afore, at Dawson's, by _yor wife_, as is now stannin there, an
she'll deny it if she can!'

For an instant the whole group preserved their positions--the breath
suspended on their lips.

Then Isaac strode up to his wife, and gripped her by the arms.

'Did yer do it?' he asked her.