“Mrs. Ranck.”
“M—m. Was the room dark, an’ all covered over with dust, when you went in there this mornin’?”
“I——I don’t think it was,” I answered, trying to recollect. “No! I remember, now. The blind was wide open, and the room looked clean and in good order.”
“Sailors,” remarked Mr. Perkins, impressively, “never is known to keep their rooms in good order. The Cap’n been gone five months an’ more. If all was straight the dust would be thick on everything.”
“To be sure,” said I, very gravely.
“Then, Sam, it stands to reason the ol’ woman went inter the room while you was asleep, an’ took out everything she could lay her hands on. Cap’n Steele didn’t lie to you, my boy. But he made the mistake of thinkin’ the woman honest. She took advantage of the fact that the Cap’n was dead, an’ couldn’t prove nothin’. And so she robbed you.”
The suspicion had crossed my mind before, and I was not greatly surprised to hear my uncle voice it.
“Then, can’t we make her give it up?” I asked. “If she has done such a wicked thing, it seems as though we ought to accuse her of it, and make her give me all that belongs to me.”
Uncle Naboth rose slowly from the bench, settled his felt hat firmly upon his head, pulled down his checkered vest, and assumed a most determined bearing.
“You wait here,” he said, “an’ I’ll beard the she-tiger in her den, an’ see what can be done.”