"Tom will have to make out some official papers," he said, "but I want you to understand this fully, that there among those fragments lies the end of this whole affair."
Cousin Jasper was about to speak, but Tom Brighton broke in ahead of him.
"It has turned out better than we could have hoped, Anthony," he began, "so that we can all agree to let bygones be bygones."
Anthony Crawford turned very slowly and looked, with those penetrating gray eyes, at Oliver.
"We owe a great deal to these children here," he said, "and as for one of them——"
Convinced that something was about to be said of him, Oliver got up quickly, pretending that it was merely because he had finished his breakfast and wished to be excused, hurried across the room, and slipped out through one of the long windows that opened on the terrace. He could still hear Anthony Crawford's voice, however, in the room behind him saying:
"It was these children who found the leak in the dike; it was Oliver who thought of going to look for it. It was Oliver who saw through me, saw that I had not a shred of honor or honesty behind my claim and told me what I was."
The boy moved farther away from the window so that he could not hear and stood, his hands clenched on the terrace rail, looking out over the garden, across the pools of color and stretches of green lawn, over the wall and down the white road that led away the length of the valley. No matter what words they might speak of him they could never make him forget how he had walked away down that road, meaning to leave all this vaguely understood trouble behind him. Only a chance meeting, the Beeman's friendly smile, the interest of a story that had caught him for a moment, and all would have been changed. No, there should be no words of praise for him.
The voices were louder behind him, for the three men were passing through the library, and Cousin Jasper was speaking just within.
"We still have to talk over this matter of rebuilding the dike," he said. "We must have your advice in that, Anthony."