"Then just listen to me for a moment. When we're at dinner, you've got to go to that room and put those things back—all of them, mind you—just where you found them. Do you understand?"
Spike's jaw had fallen.
"Put dem back, Mr. Chames!" he faltered.
"Every single one of them."
"Mr. Chames!" said Spike plaintively.
"You'll bear it in mind? Directly dinner has begun, every one of those things goes back where it belongs. See?"
"Very well, Mr. Chames."
The dejection in his voice would have moved the sternest to pity. Gloom had enveloped Spike's spirit. The sunlight had gone out of his life.
CHAPTER XIV.
Spennie Blunt, meanwhile, was not feeling happy. Out of his life, too, had the sunshine gone. His assets amounted to one pound seven and fourpence and he owed twenty pounds. He had succeeded, after dinner, in borrowing five pounds from Jimmy, who was in the mood when he would have lent five pounds to anybody who asked for it, but beyond that he had had no successes in the course of a borrowing tour among the inmates of the abbey.