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Driver and her friend appeared in the front room, and the farmer, with a keen glance at the door of the larder which had just closed, took a chair while his hostess drew a glass of beer from the barrel in the kitchen. Mr. Negget drank gratefully and praised the brew. From beer the conversation turned naturally to the police, and from the police to the listening Mr.
"Strictly speaking, it ain't quite a legal thing to do, o course, but many o' the finest pieces of detective work have been done by breaking the law. If she's a kleptomaniac, it's very likely lying about somewhere in the house." He eyed Mr. Negget closely, as though half expecting another outburst, but none being forthcoming, sat back in his chair again and smoked in silence, while Mrs.
His pipe lit, he turned to his niece, and slowly bade her go over the account of her loss once more. "I missed it this morning," said Mrs. Negget, rapidly, "at ten minutes past twelve o'clock by the clock, and half-past five by my watch which wants looking to.
Bodfish hung about in the neighbourhood of the widow's cottage, but in vain, and it would be hard to say whether he or Mr. Negget, who had been discreetly shadowing him, felt the disappointment most. On the day following, however, the ex-constable from a distant hedge saw a friend of the widow's enter the cottage, and a little later both ladies emerged and walked up the road.
"Strictly speaking, it ain't quite a legal thing to do, o course, but many o' the finest pieces of detective work have been done by breaking the law. If she's a kleptomaniac, it's very likely lying about somewhere in the house." He eyed Mr. Negget closely, as though half expecting another outburst, but none being forthcoming, sat back in his chair again and smoked in silence, while Mrs.
"What do you think of that?" he demanded, triumphantly. "Somebody's been up there," said his niece. "It isn't Emma, because she hasn't been outside the house all day; and it can't be George, because he promised me faithful he'd never go up there in his dirty boots." Mr. Negget coughed, and approaching the stairs, gazed with the eye of a stranger at the relics as Mr.
He gave his right leg a congratulatory slap as he thought of it, and knocking the ashes from his pipe, went slowly up to bed. He was so amiable next morning that Mr. Bodfish, who was trying to explain to Mrs. Negget the difference between theft and kleptomania, spoke before him freely.
Negget had promptly vetoed. "I can't help thinking that Mrs. Pottle knows something about it," said Mrs. Negget, with an indignant glance at her husband. "Mrs. Pottle," said the farmer, rising slowly and taking a seat on the oak settle built in the fireplace, "has been away from the village for near a fortnit." "I didn't say she took it," snapped his wife.
Negget, and with brazen effrontery not only met his wife's eye without quailing, but actually glanced down at her boots. Mr. Bodfish came back to his chair and ruminated. Then he looked up and spoke. "It was missed this morning at ten minutes past twelve," he said, slowly; "it was there last night. At eleven o'clock you came in and found Mrs. Driver sitting in that chair."
Negget had promptly vetoed. "I can't help thinking that Mrs. Pottle knows something about it," said Mrs. Negget, with an indignant glance at her husband. "Mrs. Pottle," said the farmer, rising slowly and taking a seat on the oak settle built in the fireplace, "has been away from the village for near a fortnit." "I didn't say she took it," snapped his wife.
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