The lock was burst.
"No, no, no," cried Trina, "it's not true; it's not true." She dropped on her knees before the trunk, and tossed back the lid, and plunged her hands down into the corner underneath her wedding dress, where she always kept the savings.

The brass match-safe and the chamois-skin bag were there.

They were empty.
Trina flung herself full length upon the floor, burying her face in her arms, rolling her head from side to side.

Her voice rose to a wail.
"No, no, no, it's not true; it's not true; it's not true.

Oh, he couldn't have done it.