"I can answer for that being perfectly true," said Charlie, "for I went with my brother to the post-office this afternoon and asked, and found that Elgood had had three money-orders changed there. And now, Elgood, can you trust me with your purse?"

"Of course I can, Charlie," said Elgood, readily producing it, and almost forgetting that the others were present.

"Ah, well, now you see _I'm_ going to rifle it. Ah! what have we here?

why, here's a whole sovereign, and eight shillings; that looks suspicious, doesn't it?" said Charlie archly.

"No," said Elgood, laughing; "you went with me yourself when I bought my desk for eighteen shillings, and the rest--"

"All right," said Charlie. "Look, you fellows: Elgood and I put down this morning the other things he's bought, and they come to fourteen shillings. I know they're right, for I didn't like Elgood to be wrongly suspected, so Walter want with me to the shops; indeed it was chiefly spent at Coles's"--at which remark they all laughed, for Coles's was the favourite "tuck shop" of the boys. "Well, now, 1 pound, 8 shillings plus 18 shillings plus 14 shillings makes 3 pounds, the sum which Elgood received from home. Is that plain?"

"As plain as a pike-staff," said Bliss; "and you're a little brick, Evson; and it's a chouse if any one suspects Elgood any more."

Wilton suggested something about Elgood being Whalley's f.a.g.

"Shame, Raven," said Kenrick; "why, what a suspicious fellow you must be; there's no ground whatever to suspect Elgood now."

"I only want the fellow found out for the honour of the house," said Wilton, with a sheepish look at this third rebuff.

"Oh, I forgot about that for the moment," said Charlie; "Whalley, please, you know the time, don't you, when the money was taken from your desk?"

"Yes; it must have been between four and six, for I saw it safe at four, and it was gone when I came back after tea."

"Then all right," said Charlie joyfully, "for at that very time, all of it, Elgood was in my brother's study with me, learning some lessons.

Now then, is Elgood clear?"

"As clear as noonday," shouted several of them, patting the poor child on the head.

"And really, Charlie, we're all very much obliged to you," said Whalley, "for setting this matter straight. But now, as it _isn't_ Elgood, who _is_ the thief? We must all set ourselves to discover."

"And we _shall_ discover," said Bliss; "he's probably here now. Who is it?" he asked, glancing round. "Well, whoever it is, I don't envy him his sensations at this minute."

The meeting broke up, and Kenrick accompanied Whalley to his study to concert further measures.

"Have you any suspicion at all about it, Whalley?"

"Not the least. Have you? No. Well, then, what shall we do?"

"Why the thief isn't likely to visit _your_ study again, Whalley; very likely he'll come to mine. Suppose we put a little marked money in the secret drawer. It's rather a joke to call it the _secret_ drawer, for there's no secret about it; anyhow, it's an open secret."

"Very good; and then?"

"Why, you know the money generally goes at one particular time on half-holidays. I'm afraid the rogue, whoever he is, has got a taste for it by this time, and will come to money like a fly to a jam-pot. Now, outside my room, a few yards off, is the shoe-cupboard; what if you and I, and a few others, agree to shut ourselves up there in turns, now and then, on half-holidays between roll-call and tea-time?"

"I see," said Whalley; "well, it's horribly unpleasant, but I'll take my turn first. Isn't the door usually locked, though?"

"Yes, but so much the better; we can easily get it left open, and the thief won't suspect an ambuscade. He _must_ be found out, for the sake of all the boys who are innocent and to wipe out the blot against the house."

"All right; I'll ensconce myself there to-morrow. I say, Ken, isn't young Evson a capital fellow? how well he managed to clear Elgood, didn't he? I declare he taught us all a lesson."

"Yes," said Kenrick; "he's his brother all over; just what Walter was when he came."

"What, _you_ say that?" said Whalley, smiling and arching his eyebrows.

"Indeed I do," said Kenrick, with some sadness; "I haven't always thought so, the more's the pity;" and he left the room with a sigh.

After his turn for incarceration in the shoe-cupboard, Bliss complained loudly that it wasn't large enough to accommodate him, and that it cramped his long arms and legs, to say nothing of the unpleasant vicinity of spiders and earwigs. But the others, laughing at him, told him that, if the experiment was to be of any use whatever, they must persevere in it, and Bliss allowed himself to be made a victim. For a time nothing happened, but they had not to wait very long.

One day, Kenrick had been mounting guard for about half an hour, and was getting very tired, when a light and hasty step pa.s.sed along the pa.s.sage, and into his room. The boy found the study empty, and proceeded noiselessly to open Kenrick's desk, and examine the contents.

At length he pulled open the secret drawer; it opened with a little click, and _there_ lay before him two half-sovereigns and some silver.

He was a wary fellow, for he scrutinised these all over most carefully to see if they were marked, and finding no mark of any kind on them--for it almost required a microscope to see the tiny scratch between the w.w.

on the smooth edge of the neck--he took out his purse, and was proceeding to drop them into it, when _a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder_, and Kenrick and Wilton--the detected thief--stood face to face. The purse dropped on the floor.

For a moment they stood silent, staring at each other, and drawing quick breaths. Wilton stood there pale as death, and looked up at Kenrick trembling, and with a frightened stare. It was too awful to be so suddenly surprised; to have had an unknown eye-witness standing by him all the while that, fancying himself unseen, he was in the very act of committing that secret deed of sin; to be arrested, detected, exposed, as the boy whose hidden misdoings had been, for so long, a source of discomfort, anxiety, and shame.

"_You_, Wilton--_you, you, you_, the disturber of the house, _you_, who have so long been treated by me as a friend, and allowed at all times to use my study; _you_, the foremost to throw the suspicion on others!" He stopped, breathless, for his indignation was rushing in too deep and strong a torrent to find vent in words.

"O Kenrick, don't tell of me."

"Don't _tell_ of you! Good heavens! is that all you can find to say?

Not one word of sorrow--not one word of shame. Abandoned, heartless, graceless fellow!"

"I was driven to it, Kenrick, indeed I was. I owed money to Dan, and to--to other places, and they threatened to tell of me if I didn't pay.

Then Harpour and those fellows quite cleared me out at cards; I believe they did it by cheating. O, don't tell of me."

"I cannot screen a thief," was the freezing reply; and the change from flame to ice showed into what commotion his feelings had been thrown.

"Well, then, if it comes to that," said Wilton, turning sullen, "_I'll_ tell of _you_. It'll all come out; remember it was you who first took me to Dan's, and that's not the only thing I could tell of you. O Kenrick, don't tell, or it will get us all into trouble."

"This, then, is the creature whom I have suffered to call me friend!"

said Kenrick; "for whom I have given up some of the best friends in the school! And this is your grat.i.tude! Why, you worm, Wilton, what do you take me for? Do you think that fear of _your_ disclosures will make me hush up twenty thefts? You enlist the whole strength of my conscience against you, lest I should seem to screen you for my own sake. Faugh!

your very touch sickens me!--go!"

"O Kenrick, don't be so angry; I didn't mean to say it; I didn't know what I was saying; I am driven into a corner by shame and misery. I know I have been a mean dog; but even if you tell of me, don't crush me so with your anger, for indeed, indeed, I _have_ been grateful, and have loved you, Kenrick. But oh, don't tell, I implore, I entreat you, Ken.

How little I thought that I should have to speak to you like this!"

But Kenrick could only say--"_You_ the thief; _you_, the _last_ fellow of all I should have suspected; _you_ whom I have called friend, O heavens! Yes, I know that I've done you harm by bad example, I know that I've much to answer for but at any rate I never taught you to be a thief."

"But one thing comes of another, Ken; it all came of my being so much with those brutes, and going to Dan's; it all came of that. I shouldn't have thought myself that I could do it or do half the bad things I _have_ done, two months ago. It all came of that; and you used to go with those fellows, Ken, and you went with me to Dan's;" and the boy wrung his hands, and wept, and flung himself on his knees. "I must tell all, if you tell of _me_."

"Say that again," said Kenrick, spurning him scornfully away, "say it once again, and I go straight to Dr Lane. Poor worm, you don't understand me, you don't seem to have the capability of a high thought in you. I tell you that nothing you can say of me shall shake my purpose. I am going now."

But before he could get his straw hat Wilton had clasped him by the knees, and in a voice of agony was beseeching him to relent.

"It's all true, Kenrick; I am base, I know it; I have quenched all honour in me. I won't say that again, but do, for G.o.d's sake, forgive me this once, and not tell of me. O Kenrick, have _you_ never had to say forgive? Do, do, pity me, as you hope to be forgiven; don't ruin me, and give me a bad name; I am so young, so young, and have fallen into bad hands from the first."

He still knelt on the floor, exhausted with the violence of his pa.s.sion, hanging his head upon his breast, sobbing as if his heart would break.

It was sad to see him, a mere child still, who might have been so different, long a little reprobate, and now a convicted thief. His face bathed in tears, his voice choked with sobs, the memory of the past, consciousness that much which he said was only too true, touched Kenrick with compa.s.sion; the tears rolled down his own face fast, and he felt that, though personal fear could not influence him, pity would perhaps force him to relent, and wring from him in his weakness a reluctant promise not to disclose Wilton's discovered guilt.