There was a stir of anticipation among the boys, and they crowded closer, as Teddy faced his angry relative.
“Jiminy, but he’s going to catch it!” whispered Jim.
“You bet he will. I wouldn’t like to be him,” agreed Jack, more fervently than grammatically.
His uncle looked at Teddy sourly.
“I’m not a bit surprised,” he growled. “From the minute I saw you on the bank I felt sure you were mixed up in this some way or other. You’d feel nice now, if you’d killed your uncle, wouldn’t you?”
Poor Teddy, who did not look the least like a murderer and had never longed to taste the delights of killing, stammered a feeble negative.
“Why did you do it?” went on his merciless cross-examiner. “Didn’t you see the stage coming? Why didn’t you bat the other way?”
The culprit was silent.
“Come,” said his uncle sharply, “speak up now! What’s the matter with you? Are you tongue-tied?”
“You see, it was this way,” Teddy began, and stopped.