“Time to go over and see if it is all right,” he said, as he finished dressing, “and then come back and call uncle.”
Going down-stairs, he took the keys of the mill from where they hung by the front door, went out into the garden, unlocked the gate, and went across to the mill, where, on peering through the window, he could see the glass lying just as it had been left.
“That’s all right,” said Tom; and he walked round by the back of the tower to see how the flowers and shrubs looked, when, to his startled surprise, he found footprints made by a heavy, clumsy pair of boots on the border beneath the wall.
Their meaning was plain enough. Some one had walked along there, and got out of the yard over the wall, while, upon a little further search, he found the spot where whoever it was had entered the yard by jumping down, the prints of two heels being deeply-marked in the newly-dug earth.
“That must have been Pete,” said Tom, flushing; and he looked over the wall, half expecting to see the slouching figure of the lad.
But there was no one within sight, and he looked round the yard in search of the visitor’s object. There was nothing but the old millstones stealable, and they stood here and there where they had been leaned against tower and wall; and at ten minutes to five, after noting that the sun was shining brightly, Sam went back to his uncle and called him, and at half-past five they went together to the mill-yard, where the footprints were pointed out.
“Have to keep the door carefully locked, Tom,” said Uncle Richard. “Hah! capital! the sun will be shining right through that window in a few minutes.”
They entered the workshop, where a bench was drawn opposite to the last window, and about twelve feet away. To this, with Tom’s help, the partly-polished speculum was borne.
“Not very bright for a reflector, Tom,” said Uncle Richard. “What am I to do to make it brighter?”
“Go on polishing, uncle.”