For some time past Mr. Broad had had a vague suspicion that he was being robbed—not on a large scale, and not regularly; but now and again he fancied a piece of silver or a few coppers disappeared.
The incident which converted his suspicion into certainty was this. On the previous night he had left the shop with a friend. Before going, he placed a florin, the price of an article just sold, in the till. On his return the florin was gone, and, according to Jim's own words, no customer had entered the shop.
It was very perplexing, but Mr. Broad did not like to tax the boy with theft, and rather foolishly made no further remark. It was just possible, he told himself, that he only intended to put the florin in the till, but had really slipped it into his pocket. One thing he knew—that after going out he had changed a florin in the town.
However, the subject worried him a good deal, especially as, on sober reflection, he felt convinced that the coin had been left in the shop.
"I hate to do it," he muttered, "but it will be better even for the boy's own sake. A sharp fright may do him good and teach him a useful lesson. If he isn't found out now he is pretty certain to go from bad to worse. It's an awful pity, too. He's a smart lad, and ought to do well; but I shall never feel able to trust him again, and I shan't feel justified in recommending him to any one else."
The shopkeeper kept his suspicions to himself, saying nothing even to his wife. He had watched Jim closely, however, while affecting to be busy in another part of the shop. Nothing resulted from this amateur detective work, but Mr. Broad noticed that several times during the evening Jim cast glances toward the door.
This certainly seemed rather odd, but it was no proof of guilt; and the stationer concluded his best plan was to lay a trap for Jim, and then go off the premises, leaving him a clear field.
The opportunity came the next day when most of the shops closed early. Mr. Broad was compelled to keep open because of the evening papers; but as soon as they were dispatched, the gas was lowered, and there was nothing to do beyond waiting for the errand-boy's return. As a rule the master did this himself, and Jim had an hour or two off.
On this particular evening, however, Mr. Broad said, "Hartland, I am going out, so you must stay till I return."
"Very good, sir," replied Jim, who really thought it was very bad, for he had promised to meet Curly Peters at the bottom of the street.