"But, my dear boy, why didn't you go and tell some one at once what you'd done, and where they will find the cup?"
"That's just it," groaned the "Weasel." "I don't know where the cup is—it's gone! I made an excuse and went and looked in the locker, but it wasn't there; and I know Herbert has searched every corner of the pavilion. It must have been stolen; and oh, aunt, it's all my fault! What shall I do?"
Aunt Polly could be firm if she liked, and her answer was prompt and decisive.
"Go at once and tell Mr. Conway exactly what you've told me," she said. "And say you are sorry you were too much of a coward to do so before. If a theft has been committed, every hour you leave it makes it less likely the cup will ever be recovered."
Standing together in the house-master's study were Mr. Conway, Mr. Morgan, and Southby, the last named a strong, pleasant-looking boy, who it was difficult to believe could be guilty of any mean or underhanded action.
"Come, Southby," said Mr. Conway; "don't be foolish. This is a serious matter, and it becomes all the more serious from your refusal to give us the explanation we demand. What brought you into our house yard the other evening?"
"I can't say, sir."
"Why not?"
"Because it would be acting unfairly to some one else."