Frank followed John into the library, and Mrs. Bradley entered also.

"Frank Fowler," the enemy began, "do you remember my showing you two
evenings since a pocketbook, also some sleeve-buttons of Venetian
mosaic, expensively mounted in gold?"

"Certainly, sir."

"That pocketbook contained a considerable sum of money," pursued his
questioner.

"I don't know anything about that."

"You probably supposed so."

"Will you tell me what you mean, Mr. Wade?" demanded Frank, impatiently.
"I have answered your questions, but I can't understand why you ask
them."

"Perhaps you may suspect," said Wade, sarcastically.

"It looks as if you had lost them and suspected me of taking them."

"So it appears."

"You are entirely mistaken, Mr. Wade. I am not a thief. I never stole
anything in my life."

"It is very easy to say that," sneered John Wade. "You and Mrs. Bradley
were the only persons present when I showed the articles, and I suppose