"Mr. Lucas gave it to me."
"And who is Mr. Lucas?"
"He's a friend of mine," said Gus; "but what do you mean about the money?"
"I mean that it's a bad florin; one that never came from the Mint. There's been a good many of them about lately. I was deceived by one once, but I shall not be again. Come, if that's all the money you've got to pay with, you'd best be off."
"I'll tell Mr. Lucas," said Gus, turning away disappointed; "I'm sure he did not know it was bad money."
"I daresay!" said the woman. "That's a likely story. Where's this Mr. Lucas that you talk about?"
"He's close by—just a little further along the road," said Gus.
The woman followed him to the door, her looks full of suspicion. It is so easy to believe the worst of those in whose appearance poverty is conspicuous. She looked up and down the road, but saw no man.
"You good-for-nothing young scamp!" she cried. "Don't come here with your false coin and your lies again. Be off with you, quick, or I'll give you to the police!"
Gus was bewildered. He had not been in the shop more than a minute, he could not understand how Lucas and his son had got so quickly out of sight.