The old man went forth grumbling imprecations on himself if he answered any more questions.
'Well,' asked Mehalah of De Witt, when the shepherd was gone, 'what do you think has become of the money?'
'I suppose he was robbed at one of the taverns. I see no other possible way of accounting for the loss. The bag was not touched on the table from the moment Abraham set it down till you opened it.'
'No. My mother was here all the time. There was no one else in the room but Elijah Rebow.'
'He is out of the question,' said De Witt.
'Besides, my mother never left her seat whilst he was here. Did you, mother?'
The old woman shook her head.
'What are we to do?' she asked; 'we have no money now for the rent; and that must be paid next Thursday.'
'Have you none at all?'
'None but a trifle which we need for purchases against the winter. There was more in the bag than was needed for the rent, and how we shall struggle through the winter without it, heaven alone can tell.'