“Well, then, I shall bolt, as you call it,” cried Singh. “I won’t face him. I can’t face him.”
“Why?”
“Because I am too proud I suppose, and the Colonel isn’t my master.”
“I say, Singhy, get off the stilts, old chap, and be a man over it. You know what the dad always used to say to both of us: ‘A fellow who has done wrong and owns up like a man is half-forgiven at once.’”
“Oh yes, I recollect. But do help me now, I am in such trouble.”
“You are in no worse trouble than I am.”
“Oh yes, I am. You are not to blame, for you did tell me to be careful; and though I didn’t like it at the time, I can see now how right you were.”
“Yes; but I wasn’t half right enough. I ought to have made you tell the Doctor what you’d got in the box, and then he’d have insisted upon its being kept in a safer place.”
“But I wouldn’t have given it up,” cried Singh angrily.
“Oh yes, you would,” continued Glyn; “and I feel now that I ought to have gone straight to the Doctor and told about your going to see Professor Barclay.”