rest. Some one else tuk it, an I stood by an saw 'im. When I tried to
stop 'im--look 'ere.'

She raised her hand, nodding, and pointing to the wound on her brow.

Isaac leant heavily on the table. A horrible suspicion swept through
him. Had she wronged him in a yet blacker way? He bent over her,
breathing fast--ready to strike.

'Who was it?'

She laughed. 'Well, it wor _Timothy_ then--yur precious--beautiful son--
Timothy!'

He fell back.

'Yo're lyin,' he cried; 'yer want to throw it off on some one. How cud
Timothy 'ave 'ad anythin to do with John's money? Timothy's not been
near the place this three months.'

'Not till lasst night,' she said, mocking him; 'I'll grant yer--not till
lasst night. But it _do_ 'appen, as lasst night Timothy took forty-one
pound o' John Borroful's money out o' that box, an got off--clean. I'm
sorry if yer don't like it--but I can't 'elp that; yo listen 'ere.'

And lifting a quivering finger she told her tale at last, all the
beginning of it confused and almost unintelligible, but the scene with
Timothy vivid, swift, convincing--a direct impression from the ugly
immediate fact.