The sudden disappearance of the will struck Mrs. Oakley with dismay. It threatened her with the loss of two-thirds of her estate. But she was not a woman to bear it in silence. She possessed a fund of energy, and lost no time in seeking to determine the important question, "Who had taken it?"

She descended at once to the kitchen, where she found Hannah setting the table for supper.

"Hannah," she said, abruptly, "have you been upstairs to my chamber this afternoon?"

"No, ma'am," said Hannah.

"Think a moment," said her mistress, sternly; "have you not been up?"

"No, ma'am, I haven't. I told you so once," said Hannah, not altogether pleased with the doubt implied by the second question.

"Has any one called here since I went away?" asked Mrs. Oakley.

"No, ma'am."

"Then there has been no one in the house excepting yourself?"

"No one except Master Ben."

"Ben!" repeated Mrs. Oakley, in a changed voice. "When did Ben come home?"

"About an hour ago,—maybe an hour and a half," said Hannah.

"He is not here now."

"Isn't he, ma'am? I suppose he went out, but I didn't hear him."

"You are quite sure no one else has been in the house?" inquired her mistress.

"Certain sure, ma'am."

Mrs. Oakley went upstairs slowly. A new idea had forced its way into her mind. It must be that Ben had taken both the money and the will. That he should have taken the first didn't surprise her, for with all her love for her son, she had small confidence in his honesty. No doubt he had got into debt, and so was tempted to appropriate the bills. But why should he have taken the will? That was something she could not understand. For the money she cared little comparatively. But the loss of the will was ruin, if John or his friends found it, or, if not, she would live in perpetual fear of their discovering it.

"If I once get hold of it again," she said to herself, "I will take care that all danger from that source shall end and forever. Ben will never divulge its existence, of course. He will understand that it affects his interests too nearly."

She waited in nervous excitement for Ben's reappearance.

At length his step was heard—never more welcome than now.

Ben entered, feeling rather nervous also.

"Has mother found out?" he thought.

"Good-afternoon, mother," he said, with apparent unconcern. "Is supper most ready? I'm awful hungry."

"I want to speak to you a moment, Benjamin," said his mother. "Will you come upstairs?"

"Now for it," thought Ben.

"Can't you speak here just as well?" he said. "I'm tired."

"I would rather have you come upstairs," said Mrs. Oakley.

"Just as you say," said Ben; "but I don't see why you can't talk just as well down here."

Mrs. Oakley led the way to her own chamber. Ben followed, feeling, it must be confessed, not altogether comfortable. This feeling was not diminished when his mother closed the door carefully. She turned and confronted him.

"You have been to my bureau-drawer, Ben," she said, eying him fixedly.

"I don't know what you mean," said Ben.

"You came home about two hours ago, didn't you?"

"Yes, I came home then," said Ben, knowing that it would be of no use to deny what could be proved by Hannah's testimony.

"You came up to this chamber, found my keys on the table, and opened the upper drawer of my bureau."

"Did you see me do it?" asked Ben, feeling confident that he was accused on suspicion merely.

"No, but—"

"Doesn't Hannah pretend that she saw me?"

"No."

"Lucky for her she doesn't. If she did she'd lie," said Ben, glad to find out so much.

"Do you mean to deny that you came up here?" asked Mrs. Oakley.

"Yes, I do. It seems to me you're mighty quick in suspecting me," continued Ben, with an air of injured innocence. "But what's all the fuss about? Have you missed anything?"

"Yes," said his mother, "I have met with a serious loss. But, Benjamin, it is very important that I should clearly understand who did or did not take it. Will you assure me upon your honor that you did not take anything from my bureau?"

"Of course I will," said Ben, who felt that he was in for it, and must stick stoutly to the lie at all hazards. "But you haven't told me what you lost."

Mrs. Oakley turned pale with consternation. She had depended upon Ben's proving the real culprit, in which case she could require restitution, at any rate, of the will.

"I lost a sum of money," she said,—"a hundred and twenty dollars."

"Whew!" said Ben. "That was a loss."

"But that was not all. There was besides a—a document of importance, for which I cared more than the money."

"I've no doubt of it," thought Ben.

"What was it?" he said aloud.

"What it was is quite immaterial," said Mrs. Oakley. "It is sufficient to say that it was a document of very great importance. I care little for the money compared with that. If you took it, Ben," she said, with a sudden final appeal, "I will forgive you, and let you keep the money, if you will restore the—the document."

There was a look of entreaty in the proud woman's eyes, as she made this appeal to her son. She waited anxiously for the answer.

But the inducement was not sufficient. The one hundred and twenty dollars were already paid away, and Ben owed one hundred and eighty dollars besides. He knew that Winchester would not remit the debt. There was no chance whatever of that. So Ben determined to keep the rÔle of injured innocence which he had assumed in the beginning. His mother would not be able to find him out. It may be thought that this was inconsistent with his plan of raising money out of his mother's fears by withholding the will. But he had arranged that already. He might find the will,—perhaps in Hannah's chamber, perhaps elsewhere, he could decide that hereafter; but he resolved not to own up to the theft. In fact, after denying it stoutly, it would have been difficult to do that.

"Look here, mother," he said, "I am not a thief, and I wish you would not try to make me out one. You're ready enough to suspect me. Why don't you suspect Hannah? She was here all the time."

"I have already spoken to Hannah," said Mrs. Oakley.

"What did she say?"

"She said she had not been upstairs during my absence."

"And you believed her," said Ben, reproachfully. "Do you believe her before me?"

"Yes, I believed her," said Mrs. Oakley; "and I will tell you why. She might take the money, but she wouldn't be likely to take the paper."

"I don't know about that. She might think it was of importance. She might think you would pay her money to get it back."

Just then it flashed across Mrs. Oakley's mind that Hannah had seen the will in her hand on the day that she undertook to burn it. Why had she not thought of that before? It might be that Hannah was more artful than she gave her credit for, and, suspecting the value of the document, had taken it as well as the money.

"I will question Hannah again," she said. "Come with me, Benjamin."

They went downstairs together, and Hannah was summoned from the kitchen.

"Hannah," said Mrs. Oakley, "listen attentively to me."

"Certainly, ma'am," said Hannah, wondering what was coming.

"Something was taken from my drawer this afternoon, Hannah,—some money and something else. Do you know anything about it?"

"Sure I don't, ma'am. I told you once before."

"If you took it, and will tell me, and restore everything, I will forgive you, and let you keep ten dollars of the money besides."

"But I didn't take it, ma'am," said poor Hannah, earnestly.

"If you don't," said Mrs. Oakley, sternly, "I will send for the constable, and have you arrested at once and carried to prison."

Hannah burst into a piteous howl, and declared that she never stole so much as a pin, and called the Virgin and all the saints to witness that she was innocent.

"Give up the paper you took," said Mrs. Oakley, "and you may keep twenty dollars of the money."

But Hannah again declared that she took nothing.

"Stop a minute," said Ben; "maybe we're all wrong. When I went out of the house I saw a very suspicious-looking man coming this way."

"What was his appearance?"

"He had black hair and whiskers," said Ben, glibly, "and was meanly dressed."

"Was he coming towards the house?"

"Yes."

"Did such a person come to the house, Hannah?"

"I didn't see him; but he might have come to the wing door without me knowing it."

"I'll bet ten dollars he was the thief," said Ben.

Mrs. Oakley did not know what to say or think. Both Ben and Hannah stoutly denied the theft, and resisted the most liberal overtures to a confession. It might be the ill-looking man spoken of.

"What'll you give me if I find the paper, mother?" asked Ben. "I'll get on the track of the scamp, and get it if I can."

"I'll give fifty dollars," said his mother.

"But you offered a hundred a little while ago."

"I'll give you a hundred and twenty then."

"Promise me two hundred cash down, and I'll do my best."

"I'll give you two hundred dollars when you place the paper in my hands."

"All right," said Ben. "If I can find the man, I'll offer him a little something to begin with. It won't be of any use to him, you know."

They sat down to supper. Ben partook heartily, feeling that he had as good as got the two hundred dollars, while Mrs. Oakley was pale and nervous, and had no appetite. How differently she would have felt if she had only known that the lost will was all the while laid snugly away in Ben's coat-pocket!