“Have you any suspicions, Miss Sprague?” asked Luke, considerably amused at the portentous solemnity of the visitor.

“I may and I may not, Luke,” answered Melinda, with the air of one who knew a great deal more than she chose to tell; “but it isn’t proper for me to speak at present.”

Just then Miss Sprague saw some one passing who, she thought, had not heard of the robbery, and, hastily excusing herself, she left the house.

“What do you think, Luke?” asked his mother, after the spinster had gone.  “Do you think the box we have was taken from the bank?”

“No, I don’t, mother.  I did think it possible at first, but it seems very foolish for the thief, if he was one, to leave the box in the same village, in the charge of a boy.  It would have been more natural and sensible for him to open it, take out the bonds, and throw it away or leave it in the woods.”

“There is something in that,” said Mrs. Larkin, thoughtfully.  “There is certainly a mystery about our box, but I can’t think it was stolen from the bank.”

Meanwhile, Miss Sprague had formed an important resolve.  The more she thought of it, the more she believed the missing box was the one of which she had caught a glimpse of in Mrs. Larkin’s trunk.  True, Luke and the widow had not betrayed that confusion and embarrassment which might have been anticipated when the theft was announced, but she had noticed the look exchanged between them, and she was sure it meant something.  Above all, her curiosity was aroused to learn how it happened that a woman as poor as the Widow Larkin should have a tin box in her trunk, the contents of which might be presumed to be valuable.

“I don’t like to get Luke and his mother into trouble,” Melinda said to herself, “but I think it my duty to tell all I know.  At any rate, they will have to tell how the box came into their possession, and what it contains.  I’ll go to the bank and speak to Squire Duncan.”

Prince Duncan had called an extra meeting of the directors to consider the loss which had been discovered, and they were now seated in the bank parlor.  There were three of them present, all of whom resided in Groveton—­Mr. Manning, the hotelkeeper; Mr. Bailey, a storekeeper, and Mr. Beane, the Groveton lawyer.

Miss Sprague entered the bank and went up to the little window presided over by the paying-teller.

“Is Squire Duncan in the bank?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Sprague.”

“I would like to speak with him.”

“That is impossible.  He is presiding at a directors’ meeting.”

“Still, I would like to see him,” persisted Melinda.

“You will have to wait,” said the paying-teller, coldly.  He had no particular respect or regard for Miss Sprague, being quite familiar with her general reputation as a gossip and busybody.

“I think he would like to see me,” said Melinda, nodding her head with mysterious significance.  “There has been a robbery at the bank, hasn’t there?”