“Now!” said Sir James, gazing fiercely at Bob; “you know, I suppose, why you are here.”
“No! I don’t,” whimpered Bob. “And y’ain’t no business to stop me. I want to go home.”
“Silence, sir!” roared Sir James again. “You do not know? Well, then, I will tell you. You are before me, sir, charged with stealing a boat.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Bob, in a tone of wondering innocence.
“And I perhaps ought to explain,” said Sir James, looking hard at Dr Grayson, and speaking apologetically, “that in an ordinary way, as the boat was my property, I should feel called upon to leave the bench; but as this is only a preliminary examination, I shall carry it on myself. Now, sir,” he continued, fixing Bob’s shifty eyes, “what have you to say, sir, for stealing my boat?”
“Stealing your boat!” cried Bob volubly; “me steal your boat, sir? I wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Why, you lying young dog!”
“No, sir, I ain’t, sir,” protested Bob, as Dexter slowly raised his head and gazed at him. “It wasn’t me, sir. It was him, sir. That boy, sir. I begged him not to, sir; but he would do it.”
“Oh, it was Dexter Grayson, was it?” said Sir James, glancing at the doctor, who was gnawing his lip and beating the carpet with his toe.
“Yes, sir; it was him, sir. I was t’other side o’ the river one day, sir,” rattled off Bob, “and he shouts to me, sir, ‘Hi!’ he says, just like that, sir, and when I went to him, sir, he says, ‘Let’s steal the old cock’s boat and go down the river for a game.’”