"Nothing!" he answered shortly, relieved to find that it was Susan Morecombe, and not his grandfather, who had come upon him unawares.
"Nothing!" the woman repeated, her eyes resting upon the bag of shot and flask of gunpowder which Lionel still grasped. "Oh, Master Lionel, how can you tell me such a big story as that!"
"I mean I'm doing nothing wrong," he amended, flushing hotly. "I—I—the truth is, I want a little ammunition to fire off my toy cannon—it's like a real cannon, you know, but only a few inches long—and I thought grandfather would not mind if I took some?"
"Have you Sir Richard's permission to help yourself," she asked, looking at him sharply.
"Well—no!" he admitted with reluctance.
"Then you must put back that bag and flask, sir. You must, indeed! I cannot allow you to take them. Do you mean to say you helped yourself to Sir Richard's keys and searched these drawers? Oh, how could you do it? What would Sir Richard say if he knew—or your mother?"
With a sigh, for he realised all his trouble had been in vain, Lionel replaced the articles he had taken from the drawer, and shut it, turning the key in the lock. He looked sullen, and though his face was crimson, it was more with anger at having been foiled than from any sense of shame.
"Are you going to sneak on me, Susan?" he asked, thinking he had better ascertain her intentions upon that point.
The woman hesitated. She had no desire to get the boy into trouble; but at the same time she was indignant at his dishonourable conduct, and doubted his tale about the toy cannon.
"It is a serious matter to take keys belonging to another, and open locked drawers," she said gravely, "and I believe it is my duty to inform Sir Richard."