“Catch me!” said John.
“Well, the police never do know anything,” assented Alexander; “and at any rate, they have despatched a man to inquire and to recover your trousers and your money, so that really your bill is now fairly clean; and I see but one lion in your path—the governor.”
“I’ll be turned out again, you’ll see,” said John dismally.
“I don’t imagine so,” returned the other; “not if you do what Flora and I have arranged; and your business now is to dress, and lose no time about it. Is your watch right? Well, you have a quarter of an hour. By five minutes before the half-hour you must be at table, in your old seat, under Uncle Duthie’s picture. Flora will be there to keep you countenance; and we shall see what we shall see.”
“Wouldn’t it be wiser for me to stay in bed?” said John.
“If you mean to manage your own concerns, you can do precisely what you like,” replied Alexander; “but if you are not in your place five minutes before the half-hour I wash my hands of you, for one.”
And thereupon he departed. He had spoken warmly, but the truth is, his heart was somewhat troubled. And as he hung over the banisters, watching for his father to appear, he had hard ado to keep himself braced for the encounter that must follow.
“If he takes it well, I shall be lucky,” he reflected. “If he takes it ill, why, it’ll be a herring across John’s tracks, and perhaps all for the best. He’s a confounded muff, this brother of mine, but he seems a decent soul.”
At that stage a door opened below with a certain emphasis, and Mr. Nicholson was seen solemnly to descend the stairs, and pass into his own apartment. Alexander followed, quaking inwardly, but with a steady face. He knocked, was bidden to enter, and found his father standing in front of the forced drawer, to which he pointed as he spoke.
“This is a most extraordinary thing,” said he; “I have been robbed!”