nefits which the boy had received for many years
from the master of the house, and grow indignant at the enumeration. Was
it possible that Hugo could be guilty? He had not been truthful as a
schoolboy, Brian remembered; once or twice he had narrowly escaped
public disgrace for some dishonourable act--dishonourable in the eyes of
his companions, as well as of his masters--a fact which was not to
Hugo's credit. Perhaps, however, there was now some mistake--perhaps the
matter might be cleared up. Appearances were against him, but Hugo might
yet vindicate his integrity----

Brian's meditations were interrupted at this point. His brother had
risen from the breakfast-table and was addressing Hugo, with a great
show of courtesy, but with the stern light in his eyes which always made
those who knew him best be on their guard with Richard Luttrell. "If you
are at liberty," he said, "I want you down at the boat-house. I am going
there now."

Brian, who was watching his cousin, saw a sudden change in his face. His
lips turned white, his eyes moved uneasily in their sockets. It seemed
almost as if he glanced backwards and forwards in order to look for a
way of escape. But no escape was possible. Richard stood waiting,
severe, inflexible, with that ominous gleam in his eyes. Hugo rose and
followed like a dog at his master's call. From the moment that Brian
marked his sullen, hang-dog expression and drooping head, he gave up his
hope of proving Hugo's innocence. He would gladly have absented himself
from the interview, but Richard summoned him in a voice that admitted of
no delay.

The lad's own face and words betrayed him when he was shown the
pocket-book and the broken box. He stammered out excuses, prevaricated,
lied; until at last Luttrell lost all patience, and insisted upon a
definite reply to his question. And then Hugo muttered his last
desperate self-justification--that he had "meant to put it back!"

Richard's stalwart figure, the darkness of his brow, the strong hand in
which he was swinging a heavy hunting-crop--caught up, as he left the
house, for no decided purpose, but disagreeably significant in Hugo's
eyes--became doubly terrible to the lad during the interval of silence
that followed his avowal. He glanced supplicatingly at Brian; but Brian
had no aid to give him now. And, when Brian's help failed him, Hugo felt
that all was lost.

Meanwhile, Brian himself, a little in the back ground, leaned against
the trunk