‘At all events, Sir Giles,’ I said hurriedly, ‘you will allow me to prove the truth of what I have asserted. I cannot, unfortunately, call my uncle or aunt, for they are gone; and I do not know where the servant who was with us when I took the sword away is now. But, if you will allow me, I will call Mrs Wilson--to prove that I had the sword when I came to visit her on that occasion, and that on the morning after sleeping here I complained of its loss to her, and went away without it.’ ‘It would but serve to show the hallucination was early developed. We should probably find that even then you were much attracted by the armoury,’ said Brotherton, with a judicial air, as if I were a culprit before a magistrate. I had begun to see that, although the old man was desirous of being just, he was a little afraid of his son. He rose as the latter spoke, however, and going into the gallery, shouted over the balustrade-- ‘Some one send Mrs Wilson to the library!’ We removed to the reading-room, I carrying the scabbard which Sir Giles had returned to me as soon as he had read the label. Brotherton followed, having first gone up the little turn-pike stair, doubtless to replace the manuscript. Mrs Wilson came, looking more pinched than ever, and stood before Sir Giles with her arms straight by her sides, like one of the ladies of Noah’s ark. I will not weary my reader with a full report of the examination. She had seen me _with_ a sword, but had taken no notice of its appearance. I _might_ have taken it from the armoury, for I _was_ in the library all the afternoon. She had left me there thinking I was a ‘gentlemany’ boy. I had _said_ I had lost it, but she was sure _she_ did not know how that could be. She was _very_ sorry she had caused any trouble by asking me to the house, but Sir Giles would be pleased to remember that he had himself introduced the boy to her notice. Little she thought, &c., &c. In fact, the spiteful creature, propitiating her natural sense of justice by hinting instead of plainly suggesting injurious conclusions, was paying me back for my imagined participation in the impertinences of Clara. She had besides, as I learned afterwards, greatly resented the trouble I had caused of late. Brotherton struck in as soon as his father had ceased questioning her. ‘At all events, if he believed the sword was his, why did he not go and represent the case to you, sir, and request justice from you? Since then he has had opportunity enough. His tale has taken too long to hatch.’ ‘This is all very paltry,’ I said. ‘Not so paltry as your contriving to sleep in the house in order to carry off your host’s property in the morning--after studying the place to discover which room would suit your purpose best!’