“You stole this?” asked he softly.
“No, sir, I found it.”
“Now, look a-here, Jim Farren, I ain’t got no confidence in what you say. You stole the last thing you brought to me, and I had to give it up to the detective.”
“I didn’t steal that nuther,” sulkily replied the boy.
“Nevertheless, I was out five dollars, and unless you can prove that you got this all right, then you will have to take it elsewhere, and give me back that five dollars.”
“Like fun I will,” replied the boy, and he slouched out.
In the meantime the woman was listening to the spirited conversation between the two other men. She could hear Tom stand up firmly for the girl called “Annie.”
When she saw the pawnbroker go back to Benson and resume his conversation with him, she went up to Tom:
“I heard you a-speaking to the young gentleman about finding a girl by the name of Annie. I know one a-living near me in the next room, and her father is rich. He sent her from home because she married against his will, and she has one little girl named Helen.”
“Helen,” muttered Tom thoughtfully, looking at the woman as if he were trying to bring something into his mind; “Helen, that was the name of her mother. Will you take me to this girl, that I may see her?”