“Tracking a thief!” answered Mrs. Mercer, spitefully.
“She charges you with stealing the breast pin from my room, Paul.”
“Yes, I do; how did it get into your drawer unless you stole it? Answer me that, Mr. Paul Parton.”
“I suppose you put it there,” returned Paul, calmly.
Mrs. Mercer held up both hands in indignant protest. “Did you ever hear the likes, ma’am?” she ejaculated. “He’s a thief, and unfit to stay in your house.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Mercer,” said Paul, quite coolly, “but didn’t you arrange this little plot against me last evening in conversation with your son?”
“What do you mean?” ejaculated the housekeeper.
“I happened to be in my room, and overheard you.”
“Do you believe this impudent lie, Mrs. Granville?” the housekeeper asked, desperately.