Her involuntary cry startled the men above.

‘All right, Mrs. Costrell,’ said Saunders, briskly—­’all right.  We’ll be down directly.’

She came back into the kitchen, a mist before her eyes, and fell heavily on a chair by the fire.  Mary Anne approached her, only to be pushed back.  The widow stood listening, in an agony.

It took Saunders a minute or two to complete his case.  Then he slowly descended the stairs, carrying the box, his great weight making the house shake.  He entered the kitchen first, John behind him.  But at the same moment that they appeared, the outer door opened, and Isaac Costrell, preceded by a gust of snow, stood on the threshold.

‘Why, John!’ he cried, in amazement—­’an Saunders!’

He looked at them, then at Mary Anne, then at his wife.

There was an instant’s dead silence.

Then the tottering John came forward.

’An I’m glad yer come, Isaac, that I am—­thankful!  Now yer can tell me what yer wife’s done with my money.  D’yer mind that box?  It wor you an I carried it across that night as Watson come out on us.  An yo’ll bear me witness as we locked it up, an yo saw me tie the two keys roun my neck—­ yo did, Isaac.  An now, Isaac’—­the hoarse voice began to tremble—­’now there’s two—­suverins—­left, and one ‘arf-crown—­out o’ seventy-one pound fower an sixpence—­seventy-one pound, Isaac!  Yo’ll get it out on ‘er, Isaac, yer will, won’t yer?’

He looked up, imploring.

Isaac, after the first violent start, stood absolutely motionless, Saunders observing him.  As one of the main props of Church Establishment in the village, Saunders had no great opinion of Isaac Costrell, who stood for the dissidence of dissent.  The two men had never been friends, and Saunders in this affair had perhaps exercised the quasi-judicial functions the village had long by common consent allowed him, with more readiness than usual.

As soon as John ceased speaking, Isaac walked up to Saunders.

‘Let me see that box,’ he said peremptorily, ‘put it down.’

Saunders, who had rested the box on the back of a chair, placed it gently on the table, assisted by Isaac.  A few feet away stood Bessie, saying nothing, her hand holding the duster on her hip, her eyes following her husband.

He looked carefully at the two sovereigns lying on the bit of old cloth which covered the bottom of the box, and the one half-crown that Timothy had forgotten; he took up the bit of cloth and shook it, he felt along the edge of the box, he examined the wrenched lock.  Then he stood for an instant, his hand on the box, his eyes staring straight before him in a kind of dream.

Saunders grew impatient.  He pushed John aside, and came to the table, leaning his hands upon it, so as to command Isaac’s face.