"Out—in—the grounds, sir."
In stumbling, Hibbert's hand had been jerked from his breast, and Mr. Weevil caught sight of the letter.
"What's that—a letter?"
Hibbert did not answer. It was useless denying it.
"Step this way."
Mr. Weevil's tone had now become quite stern. He led the way into one of the class-rooms; then closed the door.
"Now have the goodness to hand me that letter," he said, gazing at Hibbert through half-closed eyes.
Hibbert dared not refuse; so he handed him the letter.
Mr. Weevil's eyes opened to their fullest extent when he saw the address on it:
W. Moncrief, Esq.,
Redmead,
Oakville (Kent).