rightfully struck, as you
can imagine, and kept my ears open. And just then, who should come in
but Mother, and of course Ross and all of us stowed the conversation for
the time being, and Ross nipped off the length of unnecessary wire with
his pincers and left Mother with Tavish to discuss some changes she
wanted made in the poultry runs. She's rather interested in chickens,
you know, sir."

"I see. But this was a bird of another colour, eh? What's that? No, my
lad, you've said nothing to incriminate anybody, and I'll keep your
confidence about this conversation, if you're worrying about it. Now,
then, you'd better nip along, as it's nearly tea-time, and when I was
your age clean hands were an absolute necessity even in
the--er--austerity of my home! I've no doubt they're the same in yours."

"But I haven't said anything to--to incriminate Ross, have I, sir?"
reiterated Cyril anxiously. "That thing about shooting a chap with the
aid of electricity--of course it couldn't be done, I suppose, and Mr.
Tavish didn't know enough about it to contradict Ross--and anyhow he was
only gassing and not really meaning it at all. I--I'd give my right
hand, sir, for Ross. He comes next to my mother in my estimation. And
that's saying a good deal!"

"Not so much as you might think--if you know that lady as well as I do,
my lad," apostrophized Cleek as the boy sped down the passageway and
left him alone. "Gad! here's a new outlook altogether. And that
conversation actually took place! He wasn't lying, the straight young
devil. And he never realized that he was plunging that precious brother
of his deeper and deeper into the mire!... I say-- Cyril!"

The boy turned at the end of the passage and came slowly back to him.

"Yes, sir?"

"By the way, what size shoes do you take? Gad! your foot's pretty hefty
for a sixteen-year-old, I must say! What's the number of those delicate
little trotters?"

Cyril laughed self-consciously.

"They are rather huge, aren't they?" he replied. "But they're tens. Same
size as Ross, you know, so that I can often borrow his shoes--and
Captain Macdonald's as well. Funny we should all be the same size, isn't
it?"

"Yes--deuced funny," returned Cleek, sucking in his lips suddenly and
his face gone grim. "Tens--eh? Thought it was sixes for you and sevens
for your brother."

"Who the dickens told you that fairy-tale, sir?"

"Oh, nobody particular. I must have dreamt it, I suppose," returned
Cleek with