And the bookseller, whose temper had gradually been evaporating during the visit, bustled our heroes out of the shop, and slammed the door behind them.
“It’s all up, old man,” said Heathcote, lugubriously. “I did think the cad would shut up for twenty-seven shillings and sixpence.”
“I’m afraid he wants me more than the money,” said Coote. “Whatever can I do?”
“You can’t prove you didn’t take it; that’s the worst,” said Dick.
“He can’t prove I did. He only thinks I did. How I wish I had that stupid pencil.”
With which original conclusion they returned to Templeton. Dick, under cover of his exeats marched ostentatiously in. The other two, in a far more modest and shy manner, entered by their hands and knees, on receipt of a signal from their leader that the coast was clear.
Heathcote deemed it prudent not to exhibit himself in the Den, and therefore retired to Pledge’s study as the place least likely to be dangerous.
Pledge was there working.
“Hullo, youngster,” said he, “what’s been your little game this evening? Been to a prayer meeting?”
“No,” said Heathcote laconically.