"Look here, boy," he said. "Look here. I've got to ask you something. Did you open a window in this room, or leave it open, or find it open, yesterday, Saturday morning—eh? Were you here before anybody else—eh? You understand what I mean. Did you open a window, or any window, or find one open—eh?"
The boy Ethelbert, standing as stiff as a poker and on the verge of tears, gave tongue.
"I ain't done nuthin'!" he said. "Don't yer say I took that em'ral'! I never did! I never set eyes on it. Don't you say that. It ain't true. I knows no more about it than the child unborn, what's in the Good Book."
The Head of the House was annoyed.
"Who's saying you did, you little fool? All I want to know is, whether the window was open?"
"I never touched it!" complained the youth more loudly still, and stiffer than ever, but with tears already gathering in his eyes. "I never did! So 'elp me Gawd! I couldn't tell it from a chunk o' cheese. I don't know what it looks like. I wish I may die. I wish I may drop down dead 'ere an' now!"
Collop, the policeman, took charge.
"Look 'ere, me lad," he said in the fine bullying voice of his noble trade, "none o' that! Did yer leave the window open, or 'ave yer seen it open?"
"Oo're you?" perked Ethelbert, stunned to boldness by terror, though still at attention. "Mr. de Bones 'e's my master; not you!" Then turning to that master, he continued, "I tell you, sir, straight honest from the shoulder, I'm a British lad, I am, so help me Gawd as made me own sweet self and little apples, I swear I never seen the thing."
"Look here, child," said Mr. de Bohun in a final sort of fashion, "was there a window open or was there not?"