"Yes."
"A likely story! He stole 'em—that's what he did."
"I don't believe it."
"I do," leered the sheriff.
"Prove it then," challenged Marcia, with sudden spirit, a spot of crimson burning on either cheek.
"Prove it?" Elisha was taken aback. "Wal, I can't at the moment do that. I can't prove it. But even if I can't, I can make out a good enough case against him to arrest him on suspicion. That's what I mean to do—that's what I come for an' what I'll do 'fore I leave this house."
Marcia swept across the floor.
Once again she was poised, back against the door leading to the stairs.
"Mr. Heath is sick."
"I guess he ain't so sick but what I can go up an' cross-examine him."