"That is splendid of you, Hugh!" she cried, her black eyes sparkling
with genuine admiration. "I love a boy who has faith in his fellows,
and thinks the best of them, no matter how circumstantial evidence may
seem to blacken their characters. And my son, if only you can find an
explanation of this puzzle that will exonerate your young companion, I
shall be very happy indeed. A great load will have been removed from
my poor old heart. I would rather lose the entire twelve spoons than
learn that Owen Dugdale were guilty."

"Then you will not say a word of this to any one," he continued,
"particularly Chief Wambold, who everybody knows has a great itching to
shine as a wonderful sleuth, but makes himself only ridiculous whenever
he tries to unearth any uncommon happening?"

"I gladly give you my promise to keep silent, Hugh," she assured him,
holding out her withered hand, resplendant with lovely gems, diamonds,
rubies and pearls, for like most French women, the Madame was more than
commonly fond of jewelry. "And from what you say, as well as your
mentioning the boy's name before I spoke it, I assume that you know
Owen Dugdale?"

"I have latterly become greatly interested in him, ma'am, and we have
been much together," he told her simply. "Since I pride myself on
being something of a reader of human nature, I feel almost certain that
there must be a great mistake somewhere; and that when the truth is
discovered, you and I will laugh, and say it was ridiculous for us to
even think Owen could have taken the spoons!"

The old lady's eyes glistened as she heard these brave words. Standing
up for a friend was one of Hugh Morgan's leading traits; and yet, if