THE instant Isabel was out of hearing, Old Sharon slapped Moodyon the shoulder to rouse his attention. "I've got her out of theway," he said, "now listen to me. My business with the youngangel is done--I may go back to London."

Moody looked at him with astonishment.

"Lord! how little you know of thieves!" exclaimed Old Sharon."Why, man alive, I have tried her with two plain tests! If youwanted a proof of her innocence, there it was, as plain as thenose in your face. Did you hear me ask her how she came to sealthe letter--just when her mind was running on something else?"

"I heard you," said Moody.

"Did you see how she started and stared at me?"

"I di d."

"Well, I can tell you this--if she _had_ stolen the money shewould neither have started nor stared. She would have had heranswer ready beforehand in her own mind, in case of accidents.There's only one thing in my experience that you can never dowith a thief, when a thief happens to be a woman--you can nevertake her by surprise. Put that remark by in your mind; one dayyou may find a use for remembering it. Did you see her blush, andlook quite hurt in her feelings, pretty dear, when I asked abouther sweetheart? Do you think a thief, in her place, would haveshown such a face as that? Not she! The thief would have beenrelieved. The thief would have said to herself, 'All right! themore the old fool talks about sweethearts the further he is fromtracing the robbery to Me!' Yes! yes! the ground's cleared now,Master Moody. I've reckoned up the servants; I've questioned MissIsabel; I've made my inquiries in all the other quarters that maybe useful to us--and what's the result? The advice I gave, whenyou and the lawyer first came to me--I hate that fellow!--remainsas sound and good advice as ever. I have got the thief in mymind," said Old Sharon, closing his cunning eyes and then openingthem again, "as plain as I've got you in my eye at this minute.No more of that now," he went on, looking round sharply at thepath that led to the farmhouse. "I've something particular to sayto you--and there's barely time to say it before that nice girlcomes back. Look here! Do you happen to be acquainted withMr.-Honorable-Hardyman's valet?"

Moody's eyes rested on Old Sharon with a searching and doubtfullook.

"Mr. Hardyman's valet?" he repeated. "I wasn't prepared to hearMr. Hardyman's name."

Old Sharon looked at Moody, in his turn, with a flash of sardonictriumph.

"Oho!" he said. "Has my good boy learned his lesson? Do you seethe thief through my spectacles, already?"

"I began to see him," Moody answered, "when you gave us theguinea opinion at your lodgings."

"Will you whisper his name?" asked Old Sharon.

"Not yet. I distrust my own judgment. I wait till time provesthat you are right."

Old Sharon knitted his shaggy brows and shook his head. "If youhad only a little more dash and go in you," he said, "you wouldbe a clever fellow. As it is--!" He finished the sentence bysnapping his fingers with a grin of contempt. "Let's get tobusiness. Are you going back by the next train along with me? orare you going to stop with the young lady?"

"I will follow you by a later train," Moody answered.

"Then I must give you my instructions at once," Sharon continued."You get better acquainted with Hardyman's valet. Lend him moneyif he wants it--stick at nothing to make a bosom friend of him. Ican't do that part of it; my appearance would be against me._You_ are the man--you are respectable from the top of your hatto the tips of your boots; nobody would suspect You. Don't makeobjections! Can you fix the valet? Or can't you?"

"I can try," said Moody. "And what then?"

Old Sharon put his gross lips disagreeably close to Moody's ear.

"Your friend the valet can tell you who his master's bankersare," he said; "and he can supply you with a specimen of hismaster's handwriting."

Moody drew back, as suddenly as if his vagabond companion had puta knife to his throat. "You old villain!" he said. "Are youtempting me to forgery?"

"You infernal fool!" retorted Old Sharon. "_Will_ you hold thatlong tongue of yours, and hear what I have to say. You go toHardyman's bankers, with a note in Hardyman's handwriting(exactly imitated by me) to this effect:--'Mr. H. presents hiscompliments to Messrs. So-and-So, and is not quite certainwhether a payment of five hundred pounds has been made within thelast week to his account. He will be much obliged if Messrs.So-and-So will inform him by a line in reply, whether there issuch an entry to his credit in their books, and by whom thepayment has been made.' You wait for the bankers' answer, andbring it to me. It's just possible that the name you're afraid towhisper may appear in the letter. If it does, we've caught ourman. Is _that_ forgery, Mr. Muddlehead Moody? I'll tell youwhat--if I had lived to be your age, and knew no more of theworld than you do, I'd go and hang myself. Steady! here's ourcharming friend with the milk. Remember your instructions, anddon't lose heart if my notion of the payment to the bankers comesto nothing. I know what to do next, in that case--and, what'smore, I'll take all the risk and trouble on my own shoulders. Oh,Lord! I'm afraid I shall be obliged to drink the milk, now it'scome!"

With this apprehension in his mind, he advanced to relieve Isabelof the jug that she carried.

"Here's a treat!" he burst out, with an affectation of joy, whichwas completely belied by the expression of his dirty face."Here's a kind and dear young lady, to help an old man to a drinkwith her own pretty hands." He paused, and looked at the milkvery much as he might have looked at a dose of physic. "Willanyone take a drink first?" he asked, offering the jug piteouslyto Isabel and Moody. "You see, I'm not wed to genuine milk; I'mused to chalk and water. I don't know what effect theunadulterated cow might have on my poor old inside." He tastedthe milk with the greatest caution. "Upon my soul, this is toorich for me! The unadulterated cow is a deal too strong to bedrunk alone. If you'll allow me I'll qualify it with a drop ofgin. Here, Puggy, Puggy!" He set the milk down before the dog;and, taking a flask out of his pocket, emptied it at a draught."That's something like!" he said, smacking his lips with an airof infinite relief. "So sorry, Miss, to have given you all yourtrouble for nothing; it's my ignorance that's to blame, not me. Icouldn't know I was unworthy of genuine milk till I tried--couldl? And do you know," he proceeded, with his eyes directed slylyon the way back to the station, "I begin to think I'm not worthyof the fresh air, either. A kind of longing seems to come over mefor the London stink. I'm home-sick already for the soot of myhappy childhood and my own dear native mud. The air here is toothin for me, and the sky's too clean; and--oh, Lord!--when you'rewed to the roar of the traffic--the 'busses and the cabs and whatnot--the silence in these parts is downright awful. I'll wish yougood evening, miss; and get back to London."

Isabel turned to Moody with disappointment plainly expressed inher face and manner.

"Is that all he has to say?" she asked. "You told me he couldhelp us. You led me to suppose he could find the guilty person."

Sharon heard her. "I could name the guilty person," he answered,"as easily, miss, as I could name you."

"Why don't you do it then?" Isabel inquired, not very patiently

"Because the time's not ripe for it yet, miss--that's one reason.Because, if I mentioned the thief's name, as things are now, you,Miss Isabel, would think me mad; and you would tell Mr. Moody Ihad cheated him out of his money--that's another reason. Thematter's in train, if you will only wait a little longer."

"So you say," Isabel rejoined. "If you really could name thethief, I believe you would do it now."

She turned away with a frown on her pretty face. Old Sharonfollowed her. Even his coarse sensibilities appeared to feel theirresistible ascendancy of beauty and youth.

"I say!" he began, "we must part friends, you know--or I shallbreak my heart over it. They have got milk at the farmhouse. Doyou think they have got pen, ink, and paper too?"

Isabel answered, without turning to look at him, "Of course theyhave!"

"And a bit of sealing-wax?"

"I daresay!"

Old Sharon laid his dirty claws on her shoulder and forced her toface him as the best means of shaking them off.

"Come along!" he said. "I am going to pacify you with someinformation in writing."

"Why should you write it?" Isabel asked suspiciously.

"Because I mean to make my own conditions, my dear, before I letyou into the secret."

In ten minutes more they were all three in the farmhouse parlor.Nobody but the farmer's wife was at home. The good woman trembledfrom head to foot at the sight of Old Sharon. In all her harmlesslife she had never yet seen humanity under the aspect in which itwas now presented to her. "Mercy preserve us, Miss!" shewhispered to Isabel, "how come you to be in such company as_that?_" Instructed by Isabel, she produced the necessarymaterials for writing and sealing--and, that done, she shrankaway to the door. "Please to excuse me, miss," she said with alast horrified look at her venerable visitor; "I really can'tstand the sight of such a blot of dirt as that in my nice cleanparlor." With those words she disappeared, and was seen no more.

Perfectly indifferent to his reception, Old Sharon wrote,inclosed what he had written in an envelope; and sealed it (inthe absence of anything better fitted for his purpose) with themouthpiece of his pipe.

"Now, miss," he said, "you give me your word of honor"--hestopped and looked round at Moody with a grin--"and you give meyours, that you won't either of you break the seal on thisenvelope till the expiration of one week from the present day.There are the conditions, Miss Isabel, on which I'll give youyour information. If you stop to dispute with me, the candle'salight, and I'll burn it!"

It was useless to contend with him. Isabel and Moody gave him thepromise that he required. He handed the sealed envelope to Isabelwith a low bow. "When the week's out," he said, "you will own I'ma cleverer fellow than you think me now. Wish you good evening,Miss. Come along, Puggy! Farewell to the horrid clean country,and back again to the nice London stink!"

He nodded to Moody--he leered at Isabel--he chuckled tohimself--he left the farmhouse.