It was shortly after luncheon that he sought the room in which the dignified O.C. of the household of Paulings was wont to repose from his labours: and never more thoroughly than after luncheon.
Midday sleep is unknown to the young, at least after they are very, very young. Those of young Ethelbert's age have no use for it and cannot understand what a boon it may be to others. Foolishly, therefore, did young Ethelbert knock at the door of the holy of holies, thereby suddenly awakening the sacred being within, who jerked into a startled gasp. He pulled a handkerchief from his face, thought for a moment that the house was on fire, expected to see an angry master perhaps; was on his feet with labouring breath, purple, expectant; when there entered the Boy.
A fine and hearty curse greeted the youth and almost blasted him from the room, but what he had to say was of such moment that he just stood his ground.
"Oh, sir!" he said, "I thought I'd come and tell you..."
"Come and tell me what? You young devil!" roared Mr. Whaley with a lack of dignity which I should have thought impossible had I not myself once spied upon him in his more relaxed moments, when he thought that none could observe. "I've a mind to have you larroped! Damned if I don't larrop you myself!" He made a vicious dash at the Boy, who was only spurred by such terror to the arresting cry of.
"Ho, sir! The Hemerald....!"
"The Emerald ..." gulped Mr. Whaley in a very changed tone. And then, almost meekly: "Well, what about the Emerald, young Bert? What about it?" The fierceness had gone out of him altogether; he sat down. "Anyone been saying who took it?" For conscience that makes cowards of us all makes us most cowardly when we are innocent—especially in a trade with perquisites.
Ethelbert recovered some little of his composure, and there came into his eyes a look of simple cunning.
"There's some," he said, nodding mysteriously, "what might speak if they chose."
"Oh! Is there?" said Mr. Whaley. "Well then, speak, you little rat!"