"Send all folly to the wind, Joseph Todhetley! Say to yourself, for God and myself will I strive henceforth! It only needs a little steady resolution; and you can call it up if you choose. You shall always find a friend in me. Write down on a bit of paper the sums you owe, and I'll give you a cheque to cover them. Come, shake hands upon it." "You are very kind, sir," gasped Tod, letting his hand meet old Brandon's. "I hope you will let me be kind. Why, lad, you should have had more spirit than to renew an acquaintanceship with a false girl; an adventurer, who has gone about the country stealing jewels." "Stealing jewels!" echoed Tod. "Stealing jewels, lad. Did you never know it? She took Miss Deveen's emeralds at Whitney Hall." "Oh, that was a mistake," said Tod, cheerfully. "She explained it to me." "A mistake, was it! Explained it to you, did she! When?" "At Oxford: before she had been here above a day or two. She introduced the subject herself, sir, saying she supposed I had heard something about it, and what an absurd piece of business the suspecting her was; altogether a mistake." "Ah, she's a wily one, Joe," said Mr. Brandon. "Johnny Ludlow could have told you whether it was a mistake or not. Why, boy, she stole the stones out of Miss Deveen's own dressing-room, and went up to London the next day, or the next but one, and pledged them the same night at a pawnbroker's, in a false name, and gave a false account of herself. Moreover, when it was brought home to her, she confessed all upon her knees to Miss Deveen, and sued for mercy." Tod looked from Mr. Brandon to me. At the time of the discovery, he had had a hint given him of the fact, with a view of more effectually weaning him from Sophie Chalk, but not the particulars. "It's true, Todhetley," said Mr. Brandon, nodding his head. "You may judge, therefore, whether she is a nice kind of person for you to be seen beauing about Oxford streets in the face and eyes of the dons." And Tod winced again, and bit his lips. Mr. Brandon rose, taking both Tod's hands in his, and said a few solemn words in the kindest tone I had ever heard him speak; wrung his hands, nodded good-night to me, and was gone. Tod walked about the room a bit, whistling softly to make a show of indifference, and looking miserably cut up. "Is what he said true?" he asked me presently, stopping by the mantelpiece again: "about the emeralds?" "Every word of it." "Then why on earth could you not open your mouth and tell me, Johnny Ludlow?" "I thought you knew it. I'm sure you were told of it at the time. Had I brought up the matter again later, you'd have been fit to punch me into next week, Tod." "Let's hear the details--shortly." I went over them all; shortly, as he said; but omitting none. Tod stood in silence, never once interrupting. "Did the Whitneys know of this?" "Anna did." "Anna!"