"I beg your pardon, sir. I meant that it is impossible."
"The knife asserts that it is possible, sir. Take it. A few pence
would have bought those plums."
The hand Tom had extended dropped to his side.
"What plums, sir?" he said, feeling more and more puzzled.
"Bah! I detest pitiful prevarication, sir," cried the Vicar warmly.
"The knife was dropped by whoever it was stripped the wall of my golden
drops last night. There, take your knife, sir, I have altered my
intentions. I did mean to speak to your uncle."
"What about?" said Uncle Richard, who had come up unheard in the
excitement. "Good-morning, Maxted. Any one's cow dead? Subscription
wanted?"
"Oh no," said the Vicar. "It must out now. I suppose some one's honour
has gone a little astray."
"Then we must fetch it back. Whose? Not yours, Tom?"
"I don't know, uncle," said the boy, with his forehead all wrinkled up.
"Yes, I do. Mr Maxted thinks I went to his garden last night to steal
plums. Tell him I didn't, uncle, please."
"Tell him yourself, Tom."
"I can't," said Tom bluntly, and a curiously stubborn look came over his
countenance. Then angrily--"Mr Maxted oughtn't to think I'd do such a
thing."
The Vicar compressed his lips and wrinkled up his forehead.
"Well, I can," said Uncle Richard. "No, Maxted, he couldn't have stolen
your plums, because he was out quite late stealing pears--the other way
on."
"Uncle!" cried Tom, as the Vicar now looked puzzled.
"We apprehended a visit from a fruit burglar, and Tom here and my
gardener were watching, but he did not come. Then he visited you
instead?"
"Yes, and dropped this knife on the bed beneath the wall."
"Let me look," said Uncle Richard. "Why, that's your knife, Tom."
"Yes, uncle."
"How do you account for that? Policemen don't turn burglars."
"It seems I lost it, uncle. I haven't seen it, I think, since I had it
to put a wedge under that leg of the stool."
"And when was that?"
"As far as I can remember, uncle, it was the day or the day before the
speculum was broken. I fancy I left it on the window-sill or bench."
"Plain as a pike-staff, my dear Maxted," said Uncle Richard, clapping
the Vicar on the shoulder. "You have had a visit from the gentleman who
broke my new speculum."
"You suspected your nephew of breaking the speculum," said the Vicar.
"Oh!" cried Tom excitedly:
"Yes, but I know better now. You're wrong, my dear sir, quite wrong.
We can prove such an alibi as would satisfy the most exacting jury. Tom
was with me in my room until half-past eight, and from that hour to ten
I can answer for his being in the garden with my man David."
"Then I humbly beg your nephew's pardon for my unjust suspicions," cried
the Vicar warmly. "Will you forgive me--Tom?"
"Of course, sir," cried the boy, seizing the extended hand. "But you
are convinced now, sir?"
"Perfectly; but I want to know who is the culprit. Can you help me?"
"We're trying to catch him, sir," said Tom.
"I'm afraid I know," said Uncle Richard.
"Yes, and I'm afraid that I know," said the Vicar, rather angrily.
"I'll name no names, but I fancy you suspect the same body that I did
till I found our young friend's knife."
"And if we or you catch him," said Uncle Richard, "what would you do--
police?"
"No," said the Vicar firmly, "not for every scrap of fruit I have in the
garden. I don't hold with imprisoning a boy, except as the very last
resort."
"Give him a severe talking to then?" said Uncle Richard dryly.
"First; and then I'm afraid that I should behave in a very illegal way.
But he is not caught yet."