Jem loosed his hold, and with double fists dashed at the scoundrel.
“You say Master Don’s a thief!”
“Silence, Wimble! Stand back, sir,” cried Uncle Josiah, sternly.
“But, sir—”
“Silence, man! Am I master here?”
Jem drew back muttering.
“Charge him, I say,” continued Mike, boisterously; “and if you won’t, I will. Look here, Mr Smithers, I charge this ’ere boy with going to his uncle’s desk and taking all the gold, and leaving all the silver in a little hogamee bowl.”
“You seem to know all about it, Mike,” said the constable, grimly.
“Course I do, my lad. I seed him. Caught him in the werry act, and he dropped one o’ the guineas, and it run away under the desk, and he couldn’t find it.”
“You saw all that, eh?” said the constable.