"That is a great loss indeed," said Willy, to whom such a sum appeared a fortune.
"I'll come to the truth, depend upon it," cried Sir Hugh, "and the thief shall rue the day that he touched my property! I received the notes but yesterday, in a registered letter, I laid them on the table in their own green envelope—"
Tom and Willy started as if they had been shot.
"That envelope and its contents must be found, and shall be found! The thief shall be punished, though I should turn every servant out of doors!"
Willy trembled and became quite cold with the inward struggle between conscience and fear. Was he to turn that fiery gaze on himself—to draw down on his own head that torrent of passion? For a moment he lingered irresolute from the fear of wan, that bringeth a snare; then the fear of God triumphed.
"Sir," said he with a nervous voice, coming one step forwards, "I think that I know what has become of the bank-notes."
"You do, do you?" exclaimed Sir Hugh, turning suddenly round, while all present became silent as death, and every eye was fixed upon Willy. "And what has become of them, pray?"
"I burnt them, by accident, making a fire."
"Burnt them!" shouted the knight, in a voice that made the roof ring again; then striding fiercely up to the trembling boy, he repeated, "Burnt them! I'll teach you—"
"How the generous forgive," said a voice which made even Sir Hugh pause and look round, and his fierce angry eye fell beneath the gaze of a mild, gray-haired old man.