Lackington remained deep in thought, and looked at the boy steadily for a minute or two.
“Now, sir; may I go?” he asked eagerly.
Lackington paid no attention, and he repeated his question. The agent still did not seem to hear him, but turned to Sir Francis, who was still at his letters.
“That is all, sir, for the present,” he said. “May the boy be kept here till Monday?”
The lad broke out into wailing; but Lackington turned on him a face so savage that his whimpers died away into horror-stricken silence.
“As you will,” said Sir Francis, pausing for a moment in his writing, and striking the bell again; and, on the servant’s appearance, gave orders that John Belton should be taken again to the steward’s parlour until further directions were received. The boy went sobbing out and down the passage again under the servant’s charge, and the door closed.
“And the mother?” asked Walsingham abruptly, pausing with pen upraised.
“With your permission, sir, I will tell her that her boy is in trouble, and that if his master sends to inquire for him, she is to say he is sick upstairs.”
“And you will report to me on Monday?”
“Yes, sir; by then I shall hope to have taken the crew.”