Part 4 (1/2)
”I believe this den of yours is hardly ever locked,” remarked Paul, presently, ”and all persons can come up here whenever they choose. I've even often found your dog Carlo sleeping here. Why, if any friend calls to see you, and wants to wait till you come home, he just meanders up here as he pleases, and amuses himself looking over your books and magazines. Isn't that so, Jack?”
”Sure. My mother says this is Liberty Hall, judging from the way all my chums go and come. But what's got you now? Do you think some other chap may have fallen into the nasty habit of helping himself to my coins, either to swell out his own collection, or to sell them to Doc. Thomes?”
”Oh! hardly that, although it seems possible. But don't worry too much about it, Jack. I'm sure we'll discover the truth sooner or later.”
”Anyhow I'll have eight to hide away; part of a loaf is better than no bread,” remarked the other, dejectedly.
”Oh! I wouldn't put them away, not just yet, anyhow, Jack.”
”But, my goodness, perhaps I'll lose all of my coins if I leave them around like this any longer on my desk!”
”That's so, but don't you see if you hide them, it shuts us off from ever learning who is taking them.”
”Oh! I see. You mean to catch him at it some time; is that the idea, Paul?”
”Nothing less. I'll drop in at the old dealer in curios to-morrow, and find out if he has any that are on this list. Listen, there's somebody at the door!”
”It's only Carlo, scratching to get in. Open the door, please, Paul.”
As the other did so a large Newfoundland dog stalked solemnly in, paid little heed to either of the occupants of the den, but snuggled down in a corner, where there was an old cus.h.i.+on, evidently placed there for his especial use.
”My! he's getting fatter than ever,” remarked Paul, surveying the bulging sides of the s.h.a.ggy canine, as he curled himself up as if to sleep.
”I believe he is, the scamp. I see it when I put him through his paces with all the tricks I taught him. He's getting too logy, and has to be told three times before he'll do a blessed thing. But about this wretched matter, Paul--you won't say anything to your folks, will you?”
”Not for the world. It's your secret, and I'd never leak a word without your permission. But I must be off now. Leave things just as you always have done; and don't shut or lock the door here any more than before.
I've got to do some studying over this Boy Scout affair when I get back. Whitson loaned me some pamphlets, but I didn't have time to read them through.”
Jack accompanied his friend down to the front door. Here Karl, having heard them descending the stairs, joined them; and so far as Paul could see there was no change in the boy's manner. If he had done wrong he must be clever enough to hide the guilt that lay in his heart, and put on a bold face.
”Remember!” was all Paul said as he squeezed Jack's quivering hand, before jumping down the steps, boy fas.h.i.+on.
It was enough to encourage the sorely distressed lad, for he had the greatest faith in Paul Morrison, the doctor's son, that any boy could ever place in a comrade; nor had the other ever failed to equal his expectations.
”I really believe Paul will do it,” he was muttering to himself as he slowly went upstairs again to the den, with its decorations of college flags, and pictures of camping, canoeing, outdoor sports such as baseball and football struggles, and kindred things so dear to the heart of almost every growing lad; ”yes, I believe he will if anybody can. But I wish he had let me hide the rest of them away. It seems like putting temptation in the way of a weak brother. But he told me I wasn't even to believe Karl took the coins, and _I won't_!”
Nevertheless, Jack Stormways must have pa.s.sed a miserable night; for the anxious eyes of his mother noticed his distressed looks when he came down to breakfast on the following morning.
”You don't look well, son,” she observed, as she pa.s.sed her cool hand across his fevered brow; ”I think you ought to step in and see Doctor Morrison some time this morning, and let him give you something.”
”All right, mother; but it's only a little headache,” he protested, for like all boys he disliked the thought of being considered sick.
Her eyes turned solicitously toward him many times during the meal, for she saw that Jack was unusually dull, and took little part in the conversation.
But it seemed that Karl made up for his brother's lack of energy, for he was more than ordinarily inclined to be merry, and told numerous jokes he had heard from his fellows in the boys' club he had joined.
Jack mentioned that they were about to organize a Boy Scout patrol; and very naturally his mother looked a bit serious at this news, until he explained some of the really excellent points connected with such an a.s.sociation; when her face cleared at once.