“That means he’d like me to go too,” thought Tom, and in a minute or two he followed, and caught sight of Pete at the end of the lane watching him, with his dog at his heels, but only to turn off and walk away.
“Does that mean mischief?” thought Tom, as he went into the mill, and he shook his head as he felt that Pete was a hopeless case.
To his surprise, on entering the laboratory, where Uncle Richard was seated before the bureau with the great letter before him, he was saluted with—
“I see there’s your protégé Pete Warboys banging about again. He is always watching this place, or waiting for you to go and play with him.”
“You mean fight with him, uncle,” said Tom dryly.
“Well, that does seem more in your way. Mr Maxted says you’re winning him over, but I doubt it.”
“Yes, uncle, so do I,” said Tom, smiling.
“I feel in doubt,” continued Uncle Richard, “whether I ought not to have tried to prove whether it was really he who helped to break in here. But there: I only want to be left in peace, and a month’s imprisonment would do him harm, and bring out matters I want forgotten. Ever seen these before?”
He drew some legal-looking documents from the big envelope and held them out.
“The other papers that were stolen from that drawer, uncle?”