iet and not interrupt uncle. Here's my uncle been in the police
twenty-five years, and you won't let him put a word in edgeways.'

"My way o' looking at it," said the ex-policeman, slowly, "is different
to that o' the law; my idea is, an' always has been, that everybody is
guilty until they've proved their innocence."

"It's a wonderful thing to me," said Mr. Negget in a low voice to his
pipe, "as they should come to a house with a retired policeman living in
it. Looks to me like somebody that ain't got much respect for the
police."

The ex-policeman got up from the table, and taking a seat on the settle
opposite the speaker, slowly filled a long clay and took a spill from the
fireplace. His pipe lit, he turned to his niece, and slowly bade her go
over the account of her loss once more.

"I missed it this morning," said Mrs. Negget, rapidly, "at ten minutes
past twelve o'clock by the clock, and half-past five by my watch which
wants looking to. I'd just put the batch of bread into the oven, and
gone upstairs and opened the box that stands on my drawers to get a
lozenge, and I missed the brooch."

"Do you keep it in that box?" asked the ex-policeman, slowly.

"Always," replied his niece. "I at once came down stairs and told Emma
that the brooch had been stolen. I said that I named no names, and
didn't wish to think bad of anybody, and that if I found the brooch back
in the box when I went up stairs again, I should forgive whoever took
it."

"And what did Emma say?" inquired Mr. Bodfish.

"Emma said a lot o' things," replied Mrs. Negget, angrily. "I'm sure by
the lot she had to say you'd ha' thought she was the missis and me the
servant. I gave her a month's notice at once, and she went straight up
stairs and sat on her box and cried."

"Sat on her box?" repeated the ex-constable, impressively. "Oh!"

"That's what I thought," said his niece, "but it wasn't, because I got
her off at last and searched it through and through. I never saw
anything like her clothes in all my life. There was hardly a button or a
tape on; and as for her stockings--"

"She don't get much time," said Mr. Negget, slowly.

"That's right; I thought you'd speak up for her," cried his wife,
shrilly.

"Look here--" began Mr. Negget, laying his pipe on the seat by his side
and rising slowly.

"Keep to the case in hand," said the ex-constable, waving him back to his
seat again. "Now, Lizzie."

"I searched her box through