"That will do, my lad," he said. "Now you, Courtenay, and you, Philip."
They came forward half-puzzled, but I saw clearly enough Sir Francis'
reasons, Ike's remark about the fresh digging having given me the clue.
"That will do," said Sir Francis; and as the boys passed me to go back
to their places I heard Philip utter a sigh of relief.
"What time did you hear these people climb over the wall, Grant?" said
Sir Francis.
"I can't tell exactly, Sir Francis," I replied. "I think it must have
been about eight o'clock."
"What time is it now, Courtenay?" said Sir Francis. The lad clapped his
hand to his pocket, but his watch was not there.
"I've left it in the bed-room," he said hastily; and he turned to leave
the library, but stopped as if turned to stone as he heard Sir Francis
thunder out: "You left it hanging on the Easter Beurre pear-tree, sir, when you
climbed down with your brother--on one of the short spurs, before you
both left your foot-marks all over the newly-dug bed. Courtenay
Dalton--Philip Dalton, if you were my own sons I should feel that a
terrible stain had fallen upon my name."
The boys stood staring at him, looking yellow, and almost ghastly.
"And as if that proof were not enough, Courtenay, Dalton; when you fell
and broke that currant bush--"
"It was Phil who fell," cried the boy with a vicious snarl.
"The truth for the first time," said Sir Francis. Then bitterly: "And I
thought you were both gentlemen! Leave the room."
"It was Phil who proposed it all, papa," cried Courtenay appealingly.
"Ah, you sneak!" cried Philip. "I didn't, sir. I was as bad as he was,
I suppose, and I thought it good fun, but I shouldn't have told all
those lies if he hadn't made me. There, they were all lies! Now you
can punish me if you like."
"Leave the room!" said Sir Francis again; and he stood pointing to the
door as the brothers went out, looking miserably crestfallen.
Then the door closed, and the silence was broken by a sharp cry, a
scuffle, the sound of blows, and a fall, accompanied by the smashing of
some vessel on the stone floor.
Sir Francis strode out into the hall, and there was a hubbub of voices,
and I heard Philip cry passionately: "Yes; I did hit him. He began on me, and I'll do it again--a coward!"
Then there was a low murmur for a few minutes, and Sir Francis came back
into the library and stood by the table, with the light shining on his
great silver moustache; and I thought what a fine, handsome, fierce old
fellow he looked as he stood frowning there for quite a minute without
speaking. Then, turning to Mr Solomon, he said quickly: "I beg your pardon, Brownsmith. I was excited and irritable to-night,
and said what I am sorry for now."