have lost the goblet altogether.”

“Watermen, you say. Did they chase the footpads?”

“No, sir; the men ran away at once.”

“You’d know them again, I suppose?”

“I’m afraid not. It was nearly dark, and they attacked me so suddenly that I hadn’t time to get much of a look at them. But I did see that one of them had a big scar across his forehead, just above the eye.”

“And where did this happen?”

“A little way beyond Mr. Mumford’s, sir, just after I had given him your letter.”

“And you mean to tell me you were stupid enough to carry a costly goblet into that nest of rogues?”

“You told me to, sir.”

“I did not.”

“Indeed, sir, you said I was to take Mr. Mumford’s letter on my way, and that meant——”

“Don’t contradict me! You were a careless young dog; went meandering along, I dare say, with your nose in the air and your eyes on the stars. You are not to be trusted. If anything of the sort happens again, you and I will say good-bye, Master Leake. Get your broom and sweep the floor.”

Mr. Slocum went to his little room at the back, and Martin set about his work, smarting under a sense of injustice. He had simply done as he was told, and it was unfair to be blamed for what could not have been foreseen. Who would have guessed that anyone would attack a boy carrying a small parcel?

To add to his annoyance, the ’prentices began to bait him.

“A likely story,” said one. “You made it all up.”

“Of course he did,” said another. “Butter-fingers! Dropped the parcel; a horse gave it a kick, and he tells this cock-and-bull story to explain the damage.”

Martin went on sweeping, saying nothing, though his ears began to burn.

 Prev. P 13/133 next