“Oh no,” said the boy contemptuously, and raising his head he walked up to the Doctor and held out his hand. “Don’t say any more about it, sir, please,” he added rather proudly. “I don’t mind losing the belt a bit.”
“Oh, but,” cried the Doctor, catching at and pressing the boy’s hand warmly, “this is very brave and noble of you, my boy. Still I must put aside all false shame and accept the punishment that may fall upon me from the want of confidence that people may feel in the future.—Colonel Severn, this must go into the hands of the police. Such a man as this must be run down; it is a duty, and before he imposes upon others as he has imposed upon me.”
“No, no, no, my dear sir! No, no,” cried the Colonel. “The swindling scoundrel has had his punishment before this, so let him go.”
“I beg your pardon,” said the Doctor; “he cannot have had his punishment; and such a man as this should not be allowed to be at large.”
“There, there, sir,” cried the Colonel, laughing pleasantly, and greatly to the annoyance of the Doctor that he should treat the loss of his ward’s valuable belt in so light a way. “I find that I must make a confession. That belt really was not intrinsically worth more than a ten-pound note. It cost me about twenty; but I very much doubt whether the scoundrel would be able to sell it for a tithe of the amount.”
“Guardian,” cried Singh, “what are you saying?”
“Something in very plain English, my boy. Let’s see, how old are you now?”
“Sixteen, sir.”
“Well, it’s about two years since you began to attack me about letting you have that part of the Dour regalia, and I wanted to satisfy you and do my duty in the trust my good old friend your father placed in me.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” cried the boy, flushing.