“I heard you,” said Moody.

“Did you see how she started and stared at me?”

“I did.”

“Well, I can tell you this—­if she had stolen the money she would neither have started nor stared.  She would have had her answer ready beforehand in her own mind, in case of accidents.  There’s only one thing in my experience that you can never do with a thief, when a thief happens to be a woman—­you can never take her by surprise.  Put that remark by in your mind; one day you may find a use for remembering it.  Did you see her blush, and look quite hurt in her feelings, pretty dear, when I asked about her sweetheart?  Do you think a thief, in her place, would have shown such a face as that?  Not she!  The thief would have been relieved.  The thief would have said to herself, ’All right! the more the old fool talks about sweethearts the further he is from tracing the robbery to Me!’ Yes! yes! the ground’s cleared now, Master Moody.  I’ve reckoned up the servants; I’ve questioned Miss Isabel; I’ve made my inquiries in all the other quarters that may be useful to us—­and what’s the result?  The advice I gave, when you and the lawyer first came to me—­I hate that fellow!—­remains as sound and good advice as ever.  I have got the thief in my mind,” said Old Sharon, closing his cunning eyes and then opening them again, “as plain as I’ve got you in my eye at this minute.  No more of that now,” he went on, looking round sharply at the path that led to the farmhouse.  “I’ve something particular to say to you—­and there’s barely time to say it before that nice girl comes back.  Look here!  Do you happen to be acquainted with Mr.-Honorable-Hardyman’s valet?”

Moody’s eyes rested on Old Sharon with a searching and doubtful look.

“Mr. Hardyman’s valet?” he repeated.  “I wasn’t prepared to hear Mr. Hardyman’s name.”

Old Sharon looked at Moody, in his turn, with a flash of sardonic triumph.

“Oho!” he said.  “Has my good boy learned his lesson?  Do you see the thief through my spectacles, already?”

“I began to see him,” Moody answered, “when you gave us the guinea opinion at your lodgings.”

“Will you whisper his name?” asked Old Sharon.

“Not yet.  I distrust my own judgment.  I wait till time proves that you are right.”

Old Sharon knitted his shaggy brows and shook his head.  “If you had only a little more dash and go in you,” he said, “you would be a clever fellow.  As it is—!” He finished the sentence by snapping his fingers with a grin of contempt.  “Let’s get to business.  Are you going back by the next train along with me? or are you going to stop with the young lady?”

“I will follow you by a later train,” Moody answered.

“Then I must give you my instructions at once,” Sharon continued.  “You get better acquainted with Hardyman’s valet.  Lend him money if he wants it—­stick at nothing to make a bosom friend of him.  I can’t do that part of it; my appearance would be against me. You are the man—­you are respectable from the top of your hat to the tips of your boots; nobody would suspect You.  Don’t make objections!  Can you fix the valet?  Or can’t you?”