“Will you come and look, sir?” said Mr Rebble.
“No,” said the Doctor sternly. “Is there a rabbit-skin there, as this boy described?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take it out.”
Mr Rebble obeyed, and once more I met Mercer’s eyes gazing at me wildly, and, as I interpreted the look, imploring me not to speak.
The miserable stuffed distortion was brought out, and I felt half disposed to laugh at it, as I thought of my school-fellow’s queer ideas for a group in natural history. But that was only a flying thought, succeeded by a mental pang that was most keen, as the rabbit was laid on the floor, and, acting on the Doctor’s instructions, Mr Rebble went down on one knee, held the stuffed animal with one hand, and began to draw out the tow with the other.
A great patch came out, and Mr Rebble pressed it together and then opened it out, and I fancied I heard the Doctor sigh with satisfaction at nothing being found.
“It’s further in, sir,” cried Dicksee eagerly.
“Ah! you seem to know a great deal about it, Dicksee,” said the Doctor.
“Yes, sir; I saw him put it in.”