Before there was time for any reply, the master's servant entered, and said the Rev. Mr. Prattleton was waiting to speak to the master immediately. Mr. Wilberforce, leaving the study door open, went into the opposite room. Mr. Prattleton, who stood there, came forward eagerly.
"Wilberforce, a thought has struck me, and I came in to suggest it. When the boy passed the night in the church, did he get playing with the register?"
"He would not do it; Arkell would not," spoke the master, in the first flush of thought.
"Not mischievously; but he may have got fingering anything he could lay his hands upon—and it is the most natural thing he would do, to while away the long hours. A spark may have fallen on the leaf, and——"
"How could he get a light?—or find the key of the safe?" interrupted Mr. Wilberforce.
"Schoolboys can ferret out anything, and he may have found its hiding-place. As to a light, half the boys keep matches in their pockets."
Mr. Wilberforce mused upon the suggestion till it grew into a probability. He called in Arkell, and shut the door.
"Now," said he, confronting him, "will you speak the truth to me, or will you not?"
"I have hitherto spoken the truth to you, sir," answered Arkell, in a tone of pain.
"Well; I believe you have: it would be bad for you now, if you had not. It is about that register, you know," added Mr. Wilberforce, speaking slowly, and staring at him.