They came forward half-puzzled, but I saw clearly enough Sir Francis’ reasons, Ike’s remark about the fresh digging having given me the clue.
“That will do,” said Sir Francis; and as the boys passed me to go back to their places I heard Philip utter a sigh of relief.
“What time did you hear these people climb over the wall, Grant?” said Sir Francis.
“I can’t tell exactly, Sir Francis,” I replied. “I think it must have been about eight o’clock.”
“What time is it now, Courtenay?” said Sir Francis. The lad clapped his hand to his pocket, but his watch was not there.
“I’ve left it in the bed-room,” he said hastily; and he turned to leave the library, but stopped as if turned to stone as he heard Sir Francis thunder out:
“You left it hanging on the Easter Beurré pear-tree, sir, when you climbed down with your brother—on one of the short spurs, before you both left your foot-marks all over the newly-dug bed. Courtenay Dalton—Philip Dalton, if you were my own sons I should feel that a terrible stain had fallen upon my name.”
The boys stood staring at him, looking yellow, and almost ghastly.
“And as if that proof were not enough, Courtenay, Dalton; when you fell and broke that currant bush—”
“It was Phil who fell,” cried the boy with a vicious snarl.