dy
Lydiard, speaking to me of her nephew's visit to her, said, 'If I had
given him an opportunity of speaking, Felix would have borrowed money
of me; I saw it in his face.' One moment more, Isabel. I am not only
certain that Mr. Sweetsir took the five-hundred pound note out of the
open letter, I am firmly persuaded that he is the man who told Lord
Rotherfield of the circumstances under which you left Lady Lydiard's
house. Your marriage to Mr. Hardyman might have put you in a position to
detect the theft. You, not I, might, in that case, have discovered from
your husband that the stolen note was the note with which Mr. Sweetsir
paid his debt. He came here, you may depend on it, to make sure that he
had succeeded in destroying your prospects. A more depraved villain at
heart than that man never swung from a gallows!"

He checked himself at those words. The shock of the disclosure, the
passion and vehemence with which he spoke, overwhelmed Isabel. She
trembled like a frightened child.

While he was still trying to soothe and reassure her, a low whining
made itself heard at her feet. They looked down, and saw Tommie. Finding
himself noticed at last, he expressed his sense of relief by a bark.
Something dropped out of his mouth. As Moody stooped to pick it up, the
dog ran to Isabel and pushed his head against her feet, as his way was
when he expected to have the handkerchief thrown over him, preparatory
to one of those games at hide-and-seek which have been already
mentioned. Isabel put out her hand to caress him, when she was stopped
by a cry from Moody. It was _his_ turn to tremble now. His voice
faltered as he said the words, "The dog has found the pocketbook!"

He opened the book with shaking hands. A betting-book was bound up in
it, with the customary calendar. He turned to the date of the day after
the robbery.

There was the entry: "Felix Sweetsir. Paid 500 pounds. Note numbered, N
8, 70564; dated 15th May, 1875."

Moody took from his waistcoat pocket his own memorandum of the number
of the lost bank-note. "Read it Isabel," he said. "I won't trust my
memory."

She read it. The number and date of the note entered in the pocketbook
exactly corresponded with the number and date of the note that Lady
Lydiard had placed in her letter.

Moody handed the pocketbook to Isabel. "There is the proof of your
innocence," he said, "thanks to the dog! Will you write and tell Mr.
Hardyman what has happened?" he asked, with h