is her's, and her uncle, the old curio man in New Cross Street, with whom she lives, is determined to steal it."
"Quite. That's her story, as far as one can get at it. But I put it to you, isn't it far more likely—prima facie at any rate—that the girl is trying to steal it from the old dealer?"
"I believe the poor thing is speaking the truth," said Woman in the person of Miss Laura Babraham.
"You mean, my dear," said her logical parent, with a sad little smile, "that you hope she is speaking the truth. With all my heart I hope so, too, even if it proves this old man—Gedge you say his name is—to be a terrible scoundrel. One of them certainly is not playing straight—but prima facie, as I say—if we call in the police, it is almost certain that it is this wretched girl who will find herself in prison."
"There I don't agree, papa," said Woman staunchly. "The poor thing says that William the assistant gave her the picture; and in all the dealings I have had with William in the course of the past year, he has been honesty itself."
Her father shook his head gently. "All very well, but Master William is the part of the story I like least. Is it probable, in the first place, that a young man who almost certainly has no money of his own, would be able to get possession of such a thing; and, again, assuming him to be clever enough to do so, is he going to be such a fool as to give it away to this girl? Let us look all the facts in the face. To my mind, the more one thinks of it the more inevitable the plain solution is."
"I'm absolutely convinced that William, at any rate, is honest."
