"Yes. Who paid it in to you? Hi, man! surely you don't think for a moment I accuse you of having stolen the coin collection—or having guilty knowledge of the theft?"
"Oh, Mr. Massey! what are you saying?" cried the storekeeper's wife.
"The coins?" whispered Hopewell. "Is that one of them?"
"Jefers-pelters!" ejaculated Walky, "Here's a purty mess."
"Who gave it to you?" again demanded Mr. Massey.
"Why, it would be hard to say offhand," the storekeeper had sufficient wit to reply.
"Oh, but Hopewell!" implored the druggist. "Don't ye see what I am after? Stir yourself, man! Perhaps we are right on the trail of the thief—this is maybe a clue," and he cast another glance at Nelson as though he feared the schoolmaster might try to slip out of the store if he did not watch him.
Nelson came forward to the counter. At first he had grown very red; now he was quite pale and the look of scorn and indignation he cast upon the druggist might have withered that person at a time of less excitement.
"I ran 'way up here the minute my wife gave me that gold piece,
Hopewell," Massey continued. "Don't you remember how you came by it?"
"He means, Mr. Drugg," broke in Nelson, "that he suspects you got it from me. Now tell him, if you please: Have I passed a gold piece over your counter since the robbery—that piece, or any other?"