“What do you mean, sir?” said Morris sternly. “I mean, sir, that knowing how good and generous he is, and ready to do anything charitable, still I do not think that he ought to be imposed upon and induced again and again to lend money to a stranger.”
Morris stared at him wildly.
“And above all, sir, there is that belt of his, which it has always been understood between us should be kept perfectly private on account of its value. It ought not to have been taken to Professor Barclay’s lodgings.”
“Mr Severn—” began Morris, and then he stopped, unable for a few moments to utter a word. Then, in quite an agitated tone, he exclaimed: “Singh has told you of all this?”
“Of course, sir. We never keep anything from each other, though I didn’t know he was going to take it till afterwards; and I feel quite sure that the Doctor will be very angry when he knows.”
“When he knows!” cried Morris. “Mr Severn, you are never going to tell him this?”
“What do you think, sir? Singh is in my charge—by my father’s orders.”
“But, Mr Severn,” cried Morris, “I—I am very sorry that I had occasion to speak so angrily to you; but I—I felt it my duty, and—yes, under the circumstances, I must confess that it was a mistake on my part to take your schoolfellow there. And those emerald clasps—yes, I see perfectly clearly now that it ought not to have been done. I should never have dreamt of such a thing had not the Professor, who has been a most unfortunate man, felt so deeply interested in the inscription.”
“Yes, sir; I know all about that,” said Glyn coldly; “and Singh told me that this Professor Barclay wanted the belt left with him.”
“Yes,” cried Morris; “but it was not done, and I strongly commended Singh for his firmness in refusing.”