“And cupidity,” chimed in Madame Yvonett. “Collectors are said to be not too scrupulous; if they can buy it cheaply from the thief they will not be likely to notify thee, the real owner.”
“Of course, there’s that danger,” admitted Tom, rising. “I’m afraid I must be going, Cousin Yvonett; you’ve been awfully good to listen to me.”
“I am always interested in anything that concerns thee, Thomas, and thy news today is startling. Shall I mention the matter to Marjorie?”
Tom pondered for a moment before answering. “I don’t believe I would; she is thrown a good deal with the Calhoun-Coopers, and knowledge of Joe’s dishonesty might embarrass her in her relations with them.”
“Had thee not better question her about the disappearance of the coin? She may be able to throw some light on the mystery.”
Again Tom shook his head. “If any of the others had seen Joe steal the coin, they would have denounced him then and there, or dropped me a hint later, and Marjorie particularly would have been sure to have done so.”
“That is true, Marjorie has thy interests very much to heart; she has not forgotten how good thee has been to me financially.”
“Don’t you ever speak of that again,” protested Tom warmly. “I’d do everything for you if I could.”
“Thee is like thy father in generosity,” Madame Yvonett patted his shoulder lovingly. “Be cautious in thy actions, Thomas; better lose a coin than wrongfully accuse another. I advise thee to go carefully over the floor of the dining-room and parlor, the coin may have rolled and slipped into a tiny crevice, or down the register.”
Tom frowned in disbelief. “There are no registers, the house is heated by steam; however, I’ll look again over the furniture and floors. I’m not going to the dinner the Calhoun-Coopers are giving next week. I can’t eat their food, believing Joe a thief. Good-bye, I’ll be in again soon.”