"It's a fact. How did she account for having so much money?" "She said it was given her by a cousin of her late husband--a very rich man." "That was a fiction of Mrs. Marlow's." "It's too bad, Rupert. What do you want me to do? I can't give you the gold piece, for I gave Mrs. Marlow the change, about nine dollars. I can't afford to lose so much." "You can help me to get back that money. When I call upon you, you can testify that she paid it to you." "So I will, Rupert. I didn't think the woman was such a mean thief." Five minutes later Rupert knocked at Mrs. Marlow's door. The widow opened it herself, and when she saw her visitor she suspected his errand, but she was resolved to deny all knowledge of the money. "How do you do, Rupert?" she said. "I thought you had met with an accident?" "Did you? How came you to think so?" asked Rupert, looking her full in the face. "The boy told me--the telegraph boy." "Did he? That is strange. The note he brought my mother was sealed." "Then he must have opened it. You can't trust them boys." "How are you getting along, Mrs. Marlow? I see you have been buying some groceries," for the packages were on the table. "Yes. I got a few things that I needed," said the widow, uneasily. "Then you didn't have your leg broken, after all?" "If I did, it's well again. By the way, Mrs. Marlow, when my mother was out a purse was taken from the room." "You don't tell me!" said Mrs. Marlow, flushing. "Them thieves is so bold. I must look and see if I haven't had something taken." "I believe you came into the room while mother was gone." "So I did," answered Mrs. Marlow, with engaging frankness. "I went in to see if your dear sister wanted anything done." "You found her asleep?" "She waked up just as I entered the room. She was only having a cat nap. I told her why your mother had gone out, she seemed so alarmed like." "And then you went to the table drawer and took out the purse." "It was in the bureau drawer----" Here Mrs. Marlow stopped short, feeling that she had betrayed herself. "You are right. You have good reason to know. You went to the bureau drawer and took out the purse." "It's a lie, whoever says it," exclaimed the widow. "You're in good business, Rupert Rollins, to be comin' round accusin' a poor woman of stealin'--me that's as honest as the babe unborn." "It may be so, Mrs. Marlow, but where did you get the gold piece you paid to Mr. Graves?" "Sure, where did he hear that?" thought the widow, quite taken aback. "Where did you get it?" demanded Rupert, sternly. "Sure I got it from a cousin of my late husband, who sent it to me yesterday." "Where does he live?" "On Lexington Avenue." "What is his name?" "John Sheehan," answered Mrs. Marlow, after a pause. "At what number does he live?" "I don't just remember," answered the widow, warily. "You can tell between what streets he lives." "I think it's somewhere between Thirtieth and Fortieth Streets, but my memory isn't good."