"What about dinner?" he said, at last, in a voice which strove to be unconcerned.
"Go away," said Selina, thickly. "I don't want no dinner."
The captain started. "But I do," he said, feelingly.
"You'd better get it yourself, then," replied Miss Vickers, without turning her head. "I might steal a potato or something."
"Don't talk nonsense," said the other, nervously.
"I'm not a thief," continued Miss Vickers. "I work as hard as anybody in Binchester, and nobody can ever say that I took the value of a farthing from them. If I'm poor I'm honest."
"Everybody knows that," said the captain, with fervour.
"You said you didn't want the paper," said Selina, turning at last and regarding him fiercely. "I heard you with my own ears, else I wouldn't have taken it. And if they had come back you'd have had your share. You didn't want the treasure yourself and you didn't want other people to have it. And it wasn't yours, because I heard you say so."
"Very well, say no more about it," said the captain. "If anybody asks you can say that I knew you had it. Now go and put that back in the bureau."
He tossed the key on to the table, and Miss Vickers, after a moment's hesitation, turned with a gratified smile and took it up. The next hour he spent in his bedroom, the rapid evolutions of Miss Vickers as she passed from the saucepans to the sitting room and from the sitting-room back to the saucepans requiring plenty of sea room.