Mr Rebble thrust in his hand again, and my spirits sank lower as he drew out another tuft of tow, compressed it, and then, frowning heavily, began to tear it open.
“There is nothing there, then, Mr Rebble?” cried the Doctor eagerly.
“I am sorry to say, sir, there is,” said the usher, as he laid open the tow till it was like a nest, with the little silver watch lying glistening in the middle; and the Doctor drew a long breath, his forehead now full of deeply-cut lines.
“Burr major,” said the Doctor huskily. “Have the goodness to look at that watch. Is it yours?”
My school-fellow stepped to the Doctor’s side and looked.
“Yes, sir,” he said eagerly. “That’s the watch I lost.”
“How do you know, sir?”
“My father had my initials cut in the little round spot on the case, sir. There they are.”
The Doctor took the watch, glanced at the letters, and laid it down.
“Yes,” he said sadly, “that is quite right.—Mercer!” Tom started as if he had received a blow, and looked wildly from one to the other.