Distant steps along the lane!  She sprang to her feet, ran into the back kitchen, tied on her apron, hastily filled an earthenware bowl with water from the pump, and carrying it back to the front kitchen began to wash up the tea-things, making a busy household clatter as she slid them into the bowl.

A confused sound of feet approached the house, and there was a knock.

‘Come in,’ said Bessie.

Three figures appeared, the huge form of Saunders the smith in front, John and Mary Anne Waller behind.

Saunders took off his cap politely.  The sight of his bald head, his double chin, his mouth with its queer twitch, which made him seem as though perpetually about to laugh, if he had not perpetually thought better of it, filled Bessie with angry excitement.  She barely nodded to him, in reply to his greeting.

‘May we come in, Mrs. Costrell?’ Saunders inquired, in his most deliberate voice.

‘If yer want to,’ said Bessie, shortly, taking out a cup and drying it.

Saunders drew in the other two and shut the door.

‘Sit down, John.  Sit down, Mrs. Waller.’

John did as he was told.  Dishevelled and hopeless misery spoke in his stained face, his straggling hair, his shirt burst open at the neck and showing his wrinkled throat.  But he fixed his eyes passionately on Saunders, thirsting for every word.

‘Well, Mrs. Costrell,’ said Saunders, settling himself comfortably, ’you’ll be free to confess, won’t yer, this is an oogly business—­a very oogly business?  Now, will yer let us ask yer a question or two?’

‘I dessay,’ said Bessie, polishing her cup.

’Well, then—­to begin reg’lar, Mrs. Costrell—­yo agree, don’t yer, as Muster Bolderfield put his money in your upstairs cupboard?’

‘I agree as he put his box there,’ said Bessie sharply.

John broke into inarticulate and abusive clamour.

Bessie turned upon him.

’’Ow did any of us know what yer’d got in your box?  Did yer ever show it to me, or Mary Anne there, or any livin soul in Clinton?  Did yer?’

She waited, hawk-like, for the answer.  ‘Did yer, John?’ repeated Saunders, judicially.  John groaned, rocking himself to and fro.  ’Noa.  I niver did—­I niver did,’ he said.  ’Nobbut to Eliza—­an she’s gone—­ she’s gone!’ ’Keep your ‘ead, John,’ said Saunders, putting out a calming hand.  ‘Let’s get to the bottom o’ this, quiet an reg’lar.  An yer didn’t tell any one ’ow much yer ‘ad?’ ’Nobbut Eliza—­nobbut Eliza!’ said the old man again.

‘Yer didn’t tell me, I know,’ said Saunders, blandly.

John seemed to shrink together under the smith’s glance.  If only he had not been a jealous fool, and had left it with Saunders!

Saunders, however, refrained for the present from drawing this self-evident moral.  He sat twirling his cap between his knees, and his shrewd eye travelled round the kitchen, coming back finally to Bessie, who was washing and drying diligently.  As he watched her cool movements Saunders felt the presence of an enemy worthy of his steel, and his emulation rose.