As the summons, however, was urgent, he came the shortest way, and, looking in through the window which let in some borrowed light from the back of the shop to the warehouse behind, he saw Mr. Furze, penknife in hand, at the till. Wondering what he could be doing, Jim watched him for a moment. As soon as Mr. Furze's back was turned he went to the till, took out a sovereign which was in it, closely examined it, discovered a distinct though faint cross at the back of his Majesty George the Third's head, pondered a moment, and then put the coin back again. He looked very abstruse, rubbed his chin, and finally smiled after his fashion. Tom's shop coat and waistcoat were hung up just inside the counting-house. Jim went to them and turned the waistcoat pockets inside out. To put the sovereign in an empty pocket would be dangerous. Tom would discover it as soon as he returned, and would probably inform Mr. Furze at once. A similar test for the future would then be impossible. Jim thought of a better plan, and it was strange that so slow a brain was so quick to conceive it. Along one particular line, however, that brain, otherwise so dull, was even rapid in its movements. It was Mr. Furze's practice to pay wages at half-past five on Saturday afternoon, and he paid them himself. He generally went to his tea at six on that day, Tom waiting till he returned. On the following Saturday at half-past six Jim came into the shop. "I met Eaton's man a minute ago as I wur goin' 'ome. He wanted to see the guvnor particklar, he said." This was partly true, but the "particklar" was not true. "I told him the guvnor warn't in, but you was there. He said he was goin' to the Bell, but he'd call again if he had time. You'd better go and see wot it is." Tom took off his black apron and his shop coat and waistcoat, put them up in the usual place, and went out, leaving Jim in charge. Jim instantly went to the till. There were several sovereigns in it, for it had been a busy day. He turned them over, and again recognised the indubitable cross. With a swift promptitude utterly beyond his ordinary self, he again went to Tom's waistcoat--Tom always put gold in his waistcoat pocket--took out a sovereign of the thirty shillings there, put it in his own pocket, and replaced it by the marked sovereign. Just before the shop closed, the cash was taken to Mr. Furze. He tied it carefully in a bag, carried it home, turned it over, and the sovereign was absent. Meanwhile Orkid Jim had begun to reflect that the chain of evidence was not complete. He knew Tom's habits perfectly, and one of them was to buy his Sunday's dinner on Saturday night. He generally went to a small butcher near his own house. Jim followed him, having previously exchanged his own sovereign for twenty shillings in silver. As soon as Tom had left the butcher's shop Jim walked in. He was well known.