"That's right. Ahem!"

Another cough. A pause, and Tom coloured a little more beneath the searching gaze that met his.

"Were you out last night?" came at last, to break a most embarra.s.sing silence.

"Yes, sir."

"Out late?"

"Yes, sir; quite late."

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Vicar, who looked now very hard and stern. "One moment--would you mind lending me your knife?"

"My knife!" faltered Tom, astounded at such a request; and then, in a quick, hurried way--"I'm so sorry, sir, I cannot. I was looking for it just now, but I've lost it."

"Lost it? Dear me! Was it a valuable knife?"

"Oh no, sir, only an old one, with the small blade broken."

"Would you mind describing it to me?"

"Describing it, sir? Of course not. It had a big pointed blade, and a black and white bone handle."

"And the small blade broken, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Had it any other mark by which you would know it? Knives with small blades broken are very general."

"No, sir, no other mark. Oh yes, it had. I filed a T and a B in it one day, but it was very badly done."

"Very, Thomas Blount," said the Vicar, taking something from his breast-pocket. "Is that your knife?"

"Yes," cried Tom eagerly, "that's it! Where did you find it, sir? I know; you must have taken it off that bench by mistake when uncle showed you round."

"No, Thomas Blount," said the Vicar, shaking his head, and keeping his eyes fixed upon the lad; "I found it this morning in my garden."

"You couldn't, sir," cried Tom bluntly. "How could it get there?"

The Vicar gazed at him without replying, and Tom added hastily--

"I beg your pardon, sir. I meant that it is impossible."

"The knife a.s.serts that it is possible, sir. Take it. A few pence would have bought those plums."

The hand Tom had extended dropped to his side.

"What plums, sir?" he said, feeling more and more puzzled.

"Bah! I detest pitiful prevarication, sir," cried the Vicar warmly.

"The knife was dropped by whoever it was stripped the wall of my golden drops last night. There, take your knife, sir, I have altered my intentions. I did mean to speak to your uncle."

"What about?" said Uncle Richard, who had come up unheard in the excitement. "Good-morning, Maxted. Any one's cow dead? Subscription wanted?"

"Oh no," said the Vicar. "It must out now. I suppose some one's honour has gone a little astray."

"Then we must fetch it back. Whose? Not yours, Tom?"

"I don't know, uncle," said the boy, with his forehead all wrinkled up.

"Yes, I do. Mr Maxted thinks I went to his garden last night to steal plums. Tell him I didn't, uncle, please."

"Tell him yourself, Tom."

"I can't," said Tom bluntly, and a curiously stubborn look came over his countenance. Then angrily--"Mr Maxted oughtn't to think I'd do such a thing."

The Vicar compressed his lips and wrinkled up his forehead.

"Well, I can," said Uncle Richard. "No, Maxted, he couldn't have stolen your plums, because he was out quite late stealing pears--the other way on."

"Uncle!" cried Tom, as the Vicar now looked puzzled.

"We apprehended a visit from a fruit burglar, and Tom here and my gardener were watching, but he did not come. Then he visited you instead?"

"Yes, and dropped this knife on the bed beneath the wall."

"Let me look," said Uncle Richard. "Why, that's your knife, Tom."

"Yes, uncle."

"How do you account for that? Policemen don't turn burglars."

"It seems I lost it, uncle. I haven't seen it, I think, since I had it to put a wedge under that leg of the stool."

"And when was that?"

"As far as I can remember, uncle, it was the day or the day before the speculum was broken. I fancy I left it on the window-sill or bench."

"Plain as a pike-staff, my dear Maxted," said Uncle Richard, clapping the Vicar on the shoulder. "You have had a visit from the gentleman who broke my new speculum."

"You suspected your nephew of breaking the speculum," said the Vicar.

"Oh!" cried Tom excitedly:

"Yes, but I know better now. You're wrong, my dear sir, quite wrong.

We can prove such an alibi as would satisfy the most exacting jury. Tom was with me in my room until half-past eight, and from that hour to ten I can answer for his being in the garden with my man David."

"Then I humbly beg your nephew's pardon for my unjust suspicions," cried the Vicar warmly. "Will you forgive me--Tom?"

"Of course, sir," cried the boy, seizing the extended hand. "But you are convinced now, sir?"