“Burr junior,” he said in his most magisterial tones, and then he stopped short, coughed again, blew his nose, and was silent.
“Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said at last. “This has been a great trouble to me—I feel moved—I have painfully hurt the feelings of a dear, sweet lady, to whom I humbly apologise, and I—I make no favourites here, but I have wrongfully suspected—but on very strong evidence, gentlemen,” he said, with an appealing look round; “and you agreed with me, Mr Rebble—Mr Hasnip?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” they murmured.
“Wrongfully suspected a boy to whom my wife and I were warmly attached. Burr junior—I—er—Frank, my boy, come here!”
I went up to him, flushed now and trembling.
“Shake hands, my boy,” said the old man, “and thank God with me that the truth has at last prevailed. But tell me, Burr, we do not know all yet. You have been very reticent. You denied the charge stoutly, but your manner always impressed us with the belief that you knew more. Now let us clear up this sad business once for all. You will speak out now, will you not?”
“Yes, sir,” I said huskily, and my cheeks burned with shame as I glanced at Mercer, who was now making horrible grimaces at me to indicate his joy.
“Then there was something?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and I glanced at my mother, whose face was now pale with fresh alarm. “Dicksee did see me find the watch there and hide it again.”
“Yes; go on.”