"Let me think!" said the old lady, slowly. "Harold knew where I kept my money, for I opened the drawer in his presence the other day, and he saw me take a bill from the pocketbook. I did not think him capable of robbing me."
"Perhaps he did not," said Luke. "It may be explained in some other way."
"Can you think of any other way?" asked the old lady.
"Suppose a servant had taken the money, and left the pocketbook somewhere where Harold found it——"
"Even in that case, why should he put it in your pocket?"
"He does not like me. He might wish to throw suspicion upon me."
"That would be very mean."
"I think it would, but still he might not be a thief."
"I would sooner excuse a thief. It is certainly disreputable to steal, but it is not necessarily mean or contemptible. Trying to throw suspicion on an innocent person would be both."
Luke remained silent, for nothing occurred to him to say. He did not wish to add to Mrs. Merton's resentment against Harold.