"You have scared them half out of their wits," replied the ferryman, trying to smile.
"It isn't likely we can find out anything here," said the constable.
"If he has got the money, he has hid it round the house somewhere."
Adopting this suggestion, the officers, followed by Mr. Randall, left the cottage to examine the vicinity. The constable was a shrewd man, and for a country locality, quite distinguished as a thief-taker. The shower early in the afternoon had left the ground in condition to receive the tracks of every individual who had been near the ferry.
The sharp officer examined all the marks in the earth, and finally followed the footsteps of John Wilford, through a corn-field, above the cottage.
Mrs. Wilford and Lawry wept as though their hearts would break, while the ferryman, trembling with apprehension, paced the kitchen.
"What are you crying for?" said he impatiently.
"Oh, John!" sobbed his wife.
"Nothing has been proved."
"Yes, there has. You told me you had given the money to Mr. Randall."
"You told me you would restore it to the owner, when I gave you the pocketbook," added Lawry.