“He says not,” Dave answered.
“Then who—”
“Belle, dear, do you mind letting me think this little puzzle out in silence?” begged Dave.
For a long time he sat silent. At last he told Belle what had happened below.
“But why should Mr. Katura strike you?” asked Belle, her eyes flashing.
“That is what I cannot understand,” Dave rejoined, in a hurt tone. “I have looked upon Katura as a fine little fellow, and I imagine him to be the soul of honor.”
“Does he doubt your word, then, about the manner in which the medallion came into our possession?” Belle quizzed.
“He had better not,” her young husband retorted. “I would not be patient under an insinuation that my word is doubted. Belle, I cannot explain any single part of the matter.”
So the pair talked it over for a long time, but no point in the tangle became a whit clearer.
Late in the afternoon there came a knock at the door.