"I--I don't want to be rude, but a--a more outrageous series of statements I never heard. I told you distinctly that it wasn't mine." "You did nothing of the sort. Of course I took it for granted that such a disreputable article, which evidently belonged to a woman, was not your property. But as I had no wish to pry into your private affairs I was careful not to inquire how such a curiosity found its way upon your shelves." "Agatha, your--your insinuations----" "I insinuate nothing. I only want to know what this fuss is about. As I wish to dress for dinner, perhaps you'll tell me in a couple of words." "Agatha, where's that bag?" "How should I know?" "Haven't you got it?" "Got it? Do you suppose I have a museum in which I preserve rubbish of the kind?" "But--what have you done with it?" "You might as well ask me what I've done with last year's gloves." "Agatha--think! More hinges upon this than you have any conception. What did you do with that bag?" "Since you are so insistent--and I must say, Philip, that your conduct is most peculiar--I will think, or I'll try to. I believe I gave the bag to Jane. Or else to Mrs. Pettigrew's little girl. Or to my needle-woman--to carry home some embroidery she was mending for me; I am most particular about embroidery, especially when its good. Or to the curate's wife, for a jumble sale. Or I might have given it to someone else. Or I might have lost it. Or done something else with it." "Did you look inside?" "Of course I did. I must have done. Though I don't remember doing anything of the kind." "Was there anything in it?" "Do you mean when you gave it me? If there was I never saw it. Am I going to be accused of felony?" "Agatha, I believe you have ruined me." "Ruined you! Philip, what nonsense are you talking? I insist upon your telling me what you mean. What has that wretched old bag, which would have certainly been dear at twopence, to do with either you or me?" "I will endeavour to explain. I believe that I stood towards that bag in what the law regards as a fiduciary relation. I was responsible for its safety. Its loss will fall on me." "The loss of a twopenny-halfpenny bag?" "It is not a question of the bag, but of its contents." "What were its contents?" "It contained a will." "A will?--a real will? Do you mean to say that you gave me that bag without breathing a word about there being a will inside?" "I didn't know myself until to-day." By degrees the tale was told. Mrs. Tranmer's amazement grew and grew. She seemed to have forgotten all about its being time to dress for dinner. "And you are a juryman?" "I am." "And you actually have the bag on which the whole case turns?" "I wish I had." "But was the will inside?" "I never saw it." "Nor I. It was quite an ordinary bag, and if it had been we must have seen it. A will isn't written on a scrappy piece of paper which could have been overlooked. Philip, the will wasn't in the bag. That young woman's an impostor."