"I know! There's a lot too much mystery. People don't go hiding up things when there's nothing to hide. I believe he was a downright bad man. And I believe Pattie knows it too. That's why she won't tell us about him, and why she pretends she doesn't want to read his papers. It's because she knows things will come out, and she doesn't want to have to tell." Cragg was silent. That some mystery existed, that some shade lay over Dale's past, he could not deny. But he thought of Dale's dying words—"Remember! I did not do it. In the sight of God I say that. It was not me. I didn't do it." "My dear, you are mistaken. Dale may have been unfortunate. He was not to blame, I am sure." "And I'm sure just the other way, Mr. Cragg. Some day you'll find out that I am right." Cragg remained lost in thought. Then he stood up slowly, as if disliking further argument, and made his way from the room. Mrs. Cragg watched impatiently for his going out, and she had to wait nearly half an hour. At last the coast was clear. The letters and the bunch of keys were in readiness. Mrs. Cragg hurried across the passage, entered Pattie's room, rushed to the cupboard, pulled away the cardboard boxes, fitted in the key, and turned it. She lifted the lid, and almost fell backwards in her amazement. The box was empty. Had Pattie emptied it? If so, for what reason? Mrs. Cragg sat upon her heels, staring bewilderedly. What to do next was the question. Should she restore the stolen letters to the empty box, trusting that Pattie would suppose herself to have overlooked them? Should she take them away and burn them? After considerable hesitation, Mrs. Cragg decided on the latter course as the safer of the two. She slipped the letters into her pocket, and locked—or tried to lock—the box. But the key refused to turn. Mrs. Cragg struggled, and her struggles were in vain. Again and again she strove, and the refractory key had the best of it. Time was getting on. In a few minutes Pattie and Dot might return. Mrs. Cragg waxed desperate. There was nothing for it but to leave the box unlocked. Pattie might forget, and might imagine that she had done this herself. She tried to pull out the key, meaning to decamp with all speed. But the key refused to be pulled out. It was attached to a large bunch, well known in the household as belonging to herself. Mrs. Cragg pulled, hauled, coaxed, struggled—all in vain. The key remained firmly fixed. It could neither be turned nor withdrawn. Mrs. Cragg, heated and alarmed, tried to loosen it from the bunch. The ring was of a new patent make, difficult to manage, and in her flurry she could not open it. Then the front door creaked, and Dot's little voice asked in shrill accents: "Were I a dood lickle girl, Pattie?" "Very good, Dot." "Nor I didn't fidget, nor make no noise, Pattie?" "No, darling. Dot was the best little girl that ever was. I'll take Dot again to church another Sunday."