“Stuff and nonsense!”
“His story may be true,” put in Jackson mildly.
“My advice is to follow up the brook and see if you cannot track the thief,” went on the young auctioneer. “And do not lose any time in doing it.”
“And what will become of you?” sneered the store-keeper.
“I will go with you, if you wish.”
“That’s a good idea,” said the constable. “Come, let us start without delay. If we can’t find anybody we can take the boy to the lock-up, anyway.”
Isaac Marvelling grumbled, but at last consented, and soon all three were down under the bridge. Here it was pitch-dark, and the feeble rays of the lantern only lit up a circle that was less than three yards in diameter.
In hopes of clearing himself, more than for the purpose of aiding Isaac Marvelling in the recovery of the goods, Matt set to work with a will.
“Here is another spoon,” he said presently, and he handed over a silver-plated affair, which at the most was not worth fifteen cents, wholesale.