“Well, the fact is,” said Max, smiling maliciously, but rubbing his hands and trying to look smooth the while, “these gentlemen and I—”
“Let’s see,” said Dick coolly; for he felt now that he was well backed up. “But, stop a moment. John, my lad, fetch a policeman.”
“By all means,” said Max eagerly. “Get one, my boy.” The lad, who had been staring with open eyes, unfastened the door, to find one close at hand, beating his gloves together, probably attracted by the scent of something going on.
“Here’s one outside, sir,” cried the boy eagerly.
“That’s right,” said Dick. “Here, you Number something, come in. You’re to see fair over this, my man.”
He nodded to Tom and Hopper, who were both singularly silent, and then turned to Max, as the front door was closed; and Mrs Shingle stood half in the dining-room, a wondering spectator of the proceedings.
“Now, Mr Max, if you please,” said Dick quietly, “proceed. You say these gentlemen—who I know again: they’ve been watching me, I suppose, to make up a case, ever since that little brotherly quarrel of ours; and now, I suppose, they’ve found it all out.”
“You shall hear what they’ve found out directly,” said Max, rubbing his hands.
“My secret, I suppose,” said Dick, laughing. “Well, I don’t mind that.”
“It will be a lesson to a disobedient son, too,” said Max, turning and darting a withering look at Tom. “One who fortunately happens to be here.”