"So it was a telegraph boy who brought the message?" he said, thoughtfully, after the explanation.
"Yes."
"Let me see the message."
Rupert examined it, but the handwriting was not one that he was familiar with.
"Give it to me, mother. I'll find out the office it came from, and perhaps in that way I can get some light on the mystery."
"I don't see what object anyone could have in playing such a cruel trick on me," said the widow. "Thank heaven, it isn't true."
Rupert took the note and went to the nearest messenger office.
"Was any messenger boy sent from here this afternoon to Elizabeth Street?"
The superintendent looked over the books.
"Yes," he answered.
"Can you tell who left the message?"
"It was a stout woman, of medium height."
"What did she wear?"
"She had on a faded shawl. I don't remember what kind of a hat she wore."
But a light had already dawned on Rupert.
"It was Mrs. Marlow!" he said to himself.
CHAPTER VI.
RUPERT AS A DETECTIVE
The next question that suggested itself to Rupert was, "What object could Mrs. Marlow have in sending off his mother on a wild goose chase?" The answer occurred immediately. "The purse."
He hurried home, and fairly ran up stairs.
"Mother," he cried, entering out of breath, "where did you put the purse I gave you?"
"In the bureau drawer."
"Will you look and see if it is there now?"
Wondering at his earnestness, Mrs. Rollins opened the bureau drawer.
"It is gone!" she said, with a startled look.
"I think I know where it has gone," said Rupert, his suspicions now become certainties.
"Where?"
"Mrs. Marlow can probably tell you."
"Do you mean that she has taken it, Rupert?" said his mother.
"I have found out that Mrs. Marlow sent the messenger giving you the false report of my accident. You can guess her motive."
"It hardly seems credible."
"I think there can be no doubt of it."
"What shall we do?"
"I will try to get some further evidence. You remember that Grace woke up and saw her in the room."
"You did not see her go near the bureau, Grace?" asked Mrs. Rollins.
"No, she was just leaving the room when I woke up."
"Wait here a minute, mother."
Rupert darted down stairs and made his way to the grocery store which he judged Mrs. Marlow would be likely to visit.
"What can I do for you, Rupert?" asked the grocer, pleasantly.
"Has Mrs. Marlow been here to-day?"
"Yes," laughed the grocer. "The old lady seems to be in funds. What do you think, Rupert? She changed a ten-dollar gold piece here."
"I thought so," said Rupert. "That gold piece was stolen from my mother."
"You don't tell me so!" ejaculated the grocer, opening wide his eyes in astonishment.
"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."
"There is no need of making up any more stories, Mrs. Marlow. The purse contained eleven dollars and a half, including the gold piece. You spent a dollar at the grocery store. I want the balance."
"Sure you're very cruel to a poor widow, Rupert Rollins," said Mrs. Marlow, bursting into tears, which she could command when occasion required. "I never was called a thafe before."
As she spoke she drew out her handkerchief, but, unfortunately, there was something entangled with it, and the purse was twitched out and fell on the floor.
Rupert sprang forward and secured it, though Mrs. Marlow