"I suppose I am," Paul admitted. "And so you think——?"
"I think that your son, who doubtless knew of your intention, was hurt at being excluded from the festivities and, in a fit of mad wilful folly, resolved to be present at them in spite of you."
"My dear Doctor," cried Paul, who saw the conveniences of this theory, "that must be it, of course—that explains it all!"
"So grave an act of insubordination," said the Doctor, "an act of double disobedience—to your authority and mine—deserves the fullest punishment. You agree with me, I trust?"
The memory of his wrongs overcame Mr. Bultitude for the moment: "Nothing can be too bad for the little scoundrel!" he said, between his teeth.
"He shall have it, sir, I swear to you; he shall be made to repent this as long as he lives. This insult to me (and of course to you also) shall be amply atoned for. If you will have the goodness to deliver him over to my hands, I will carry him back at once to Market Rodwell, and to-morrow, sir, to-morrow, I will endeavour to awaken his conscience in a way he will remember!"
The Doctor was more angry than an impartial lover of justice might perhaps approve of, but then it must be remembered that he had seen himself completely outwitted and his authority set at nought in a very humiliating fashion.
However, his excessive wrath cooled Paul's own resentment instead of inflaming it; it made him reflect that, after all, it was he who had the best right to be angry.
"Well," he said, rather coldly, "we must find him first, and then consider what shall be done to him. If you will allow me I will ring and——"