"`Very true, sir,' I said, `so I did everybody in turn; but, depend upon it, 'tain't Pellet.' Those were the very words that passed, Mr Pellet; and now you've got to prove yourself innocent, that is, if you can, sir; for, though I stuck up for you to the vicar, I must say that it looks very black against you. We wanted to find the key to the mystery, and we found it, sir, in your box, so you've got to prove yourself an honest man, and show how the key got there." "But I can't, Mr Timson," said Jared. "I've not the slightest notion." "Then it looks all the blacker against you, Mr Pellet, that's all I can say--blacker than ever--Kyshow at the very least, without so much as a dust of green to relieve it." Jared groaned. "Why, sir, not saying it was you," continued Mr Timson, excitedly, "a man must be a terrible scoundrel to go and rob the poor, even if he was poor himself, when he was situated as you are, and knew that the vicar, or somebody else not far from you at the present time, might--I do not say would, sir--might have helped him out of a difficulty if he had been in a corner." Standing hat in hand, Jared looked at the churchwarden, while for a moment the little glass-enclosed office seemed to swim round him; but only for a moment; then came a choking sensation in his throat, and a blank dreary hopelessness settled down upon him. He tried to speak, but the words would not come; he endeavoured to make up some defence, to think out some plan of action, but, blank, blank, blank--all seemed blank and hopeless, and it almost appeared to him now that he really was the thief they took him for. "Prove it, sir--prove it," resumed Timson, placing his thumb upon the edge of his desk, and pressing it down as if he had Jared beneath it, and was keeping him there until he proved his innocence. "I'm sorry, sir, very sorry, sir, and so is the vicar. Don't you go and think, Mr Pellet," he continued, in quite an indignant tone,--"don't you go and think that we wanted the poor-boxes robbed; we didn't, you know; and we didn't want to find out that it was you." Jared waved his hand deprecatingly. "Well, well, well, sir," exclaimed Timson. "Prove it, sir, prove it--as I said before, prove it," and he pressed the thumb down harder and harder. "But, man, how can I?" exclaimed Jared, desperately. "Shoo--shoo--shoo--shoo--shoo;--shoo--shoo!" ejaculated Timson. "Don't raise your voice like that, sir, or I shall be indignant too. It won't do, Mr Jared Pellet. You're in the wrong, sir--you're in the wrong." "I know, I know, Mr Timson," said Jared, imploringly; "but what can I do?" "Prove it, sir, prove it," said Timson again. "I want to see you proved innocent; and if we are wrong, there's my hand--leastwise, there it is when you've proved it;" and for fear that Jared should seize upon it, he tucked it under the tail of his coat, turned his back to the fire, and then stood looking fiercely at the dejected man before him.