"I don't think he had anything to do with it," interposed Mr.
Randall. "The boy helped me look for the pocketbook, and behaved very
handsomely; but I didn't like the looks of his father."

"What did your father say just before we came?" asked the sheriff.

Lawry was stupefied with grief and shame. He knew not what to say,
and he dropped his head upon the table, and sobbed like a little child.

"Things look bad, Mr. Wilford. Your wife and Lawry know more than
they are willing to tell," continued the officer.

"You have scared them half out of their wits," replied the ferryman,
trying to smile.

"It isn't likely we can find out anything here," said the constable.
"If he has got the money, he has hid it round the house somewhere."

Adopting this suggestion, the officers, followed by Mr. Randall,
left the cottage to examine the vicinity. The constable was a shrewd
man, and for a country locality, quite distinguished as a thief-
taker. The shower early in the afternoon had left the ground in
condition to receive the tracks of every individual who had been near
the ferry.

The sharp officer examined all the marks in the earth, and finally
followed the footsteps of John Wilford, through a corn-field, above
the cottage.

Mrs. Wilford and Lawry wept as though their hearts would break,