Vainly the good woman pointed out the sin of coveteousness; vainly she would stand at the cottage door awaiting the child’s return, and begin arguing the point with her the moment she came in sight:  the receipts diminished daily until the average was less than tenpence—­a sum upon which no born gentlewoman would deign to exist.  So it became a matter of some importance to know where Feodora kept her banking account.  Madame Yonsmit thought at first she would follow her and see; but although the good lady was as vigorous and sprightly as ever, carrying a crutch more for ornament than use, she abandoned this plan because it did not seem suitable to the dignity of a decayed gentlewoman.  She employed a detective.

The foregoing particulars I have from Madame Yonsmit herself; for those immediately subjoining I am indebted to the detective, a skilful officer named Bowstr.

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No sooner had the scraggy old hag communicated her suspicions than the officer knew exactly what to do.  He first distributed hand-bills all over the country, stating that a certain person suspected of concealing money had better look sharp.  He then went to the Home Secretary, and by not seeking to understate the real difficulties of the case, induced that functionary to offer a reward of a thousand pounds for the arrest of the malefactor.  Next he proceeded to a distant town, and took into custody a clergyman who resembled Feodora in respect of wearing shoes.  After these formal preliminaries he took up the case with some zeal.  He was not at all actuated by a desire to obtain the reward, but by pure love of justice.  The thought of securing the girl’s private hoard for himself never for a moment entered his head.

He began to make frequent calls at the widow’s cottage when Feodora was at home, when, by apparently careless conversation, he would endeavour to draw her out; but he was commonly frustrated by her old beast of a mother, who, when the girl’s answers did not suit, would beat her unmercifully.  So he took to meeting Feodora on the highway, and giving her coppers carefully marked.  For months he kept this up with wonderful self-sacrifice—­the girl being a mere uninteresting angel.  He met her daily in the roads and forest.  His patience never wearied, his vigilance never flagged.  Her most careless glances were conscientiously noted, her lightest words treasured up in his memory.  Meanwhile (the clergyman having been unjustly acquitted) he arrested everybody he could get his hands on.  Matters went on in this way until it was time for the grand coup.

The succeeding-particulars I have from the lips of Feodora herself.

When that horrid Bowstr first came to the house Feodora thought he was rather impudent, but said, little about it to her mother—­not desiring to have her back broken.  She merely avoided him as much as she dared, he was so frightfully ugly.  But she managed to endure him until he took to waylaying her on the highway, hanging about her all day, interfering with the customers, and walking home with her at night.  Then her dislike deepened into disgust; and but for apprehensions not wholly unconnected with a certain crutch, she would have sent him about his business in short order.  More than a thousand million times she told him to be off and leave her alone, but men are such fools—­particularly this one.