And he said:
"I know: that's where the justice comes in. He stole my glazier's diamond. Now I'm going to steal his glasses."
"Shall you ever give them back?" I asked.
And he said:
"I may, or I may not. The first thing is to get them."
"He takes them off to stretch his eyes sometimes," I reminded Tudor.
"Yes, and for tea," said Tudor. "If he goes in to Mrs. Dunston's room for a hasty cup of tea, he generally leaves the glasses in the study on his desk till he comes back to work."
Well, Tudor got them. In a week from the day he decided to take them, he had an opportunity. Every day that week he had contrived to be around when tea-time came on, and once Dr. Dunston found him hanging about the passage, and told him to be gone. But he was crowned with success, and that same night in the playground, by the light of my electric torch, Tudor showed me the solemn sight of the double-eyeglasses of the Doctor actually in his hand!
Well, he was fearfully excited about it, and concealed the glasses for a few hours in his playbox. Then, fearing there might be a hue and cry, and everything stirred to its foundations, he took the glasses out just before supper, and concealed them in a crevice on the top of the playground wall, only known to me and him.
That night he did not sleep for hours, and more did I. I pictured the Doctor's terrible anger at having to stop reading the news of the War, and Tudor told me next morning that he had put the Doctor out of action for all school purposes, as well as private reading, and we might hope for at least three days without him, as it would take fully that time to manufacture such glasses as he wore.