"So am I!" replied the boy modestly.
No further comment was made except as they went up in the elevator, the old man added:
"It's never amiss to have your eyes about you, son. The majority of folks might as well have two glass beads in their heads, so little do they really observe of what they see. To have your eyes open and your mouth shut isn't a bad notion."
It was like McPhearson to turn his praise into good council. He never flattered. Perhaps, too, it was just as well, for Christopher received that noon all the adulation that was good for him.
Corrigan, the big inspector, clapped him on the shoulders, calling him a little general; and Davis almost wrung his hand off. Even the silent Mr. Norcross announced he was a son to be proud of. As for Mr. Burton, Senior—well, he merely settled back into his office chair and beamed about him.
"I made no mistake when I christened that boy Christopher Mark Antony Burton, fourth," announced he, as if every whit of responsibility for the boy's good judgment were traceable to his name. "He has the stuff in him—has had since babyhood."
But Mr. Inspector did not wholly agree.
"You've got to do more than have good blood in your veins," he asserted, with a hint of scorn. "The young one used his brains, he did, and used 'em quick without thanks to his ancestors. Had he loitered about and depended on his great-grandfather, Stuart would have got away."
There was a general laugh, in which even Mr. Burton, chagrined though he was, joined.
Afterward the two police officers, Christopher, his father, Mr. Rhinehart, and Hollings rolled away to headquarters to identify the captured diamond thief.