“News?” said North, turning sharply.
“No; of course you could not, being ill in bed, where you’d better go again. Burglary, my boy. We’re getting on.”
“Burglary?”
“Yes: sacrilegious burglary, sir. One of those King’s Hampton rascals—one of May’s lambs—broke into the vestry last night.”
It was on North’s lips to say furiously, “There, speak out, man! If you know all about this, say so at once;” but the words seemed to halt there, and he only gazed wonderingly as Salis talked on in his easy, good-tempered way.
“Moredock came up to tell me this morning.”
“Moredock?”
“Yes; we were to have had the vestry meeting, you know.”
“Of course: I said I was too ill to come,” said North hoarsely.
“So you are. Well, the old fellow went up to dust and put the place straight, and he found that some one had broken in by the window, and had evidently been interrupted, for my gown was torn down and thrown on the floor, and they had carried off my new surplice.”