“Hadst thou an uncle living there?” interrupted Mrs. Heritage. “Yes, ma’am,” replied Tom, drily. “Poor men have uncles everywhere, and very kind ones; their doors always stand open to them.” “I am very glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Heritage, in her wealthy ignorance of such uncles, and amid the stifled merriment of the young people. “What I mean,” said Tom, “is, he meant to put it up the spout.” “Up the spout!” said Mrs. Heritage, in augmented astonishment. “He meant to hide it?” Tom nodded assent. “He meant to pawn it, he means,” said Mr. Woodburn. “That’s his slang,” seeing that Thorsby’s good manners were choking him. “Oh, that was it!” said Mrs. Heritage. “Yes, that was just it,” said Tom. “I went off with a sad heart on the errand, but I soon had a sadder. When I went into my captain’s room, the watch was not there. I called the landlady, and said, ‘Who has taken Captain Chillington’s watch away?’ “‘His watch?’ said the landlady, ‘why, he sent for it!’ “‘Sent for it!—by whom?’ said I. “‘Why, a young man, in a dark grey livery and silver-laced hat, came for it. He said he was Major Need’s man, and Captain Chillington had asked him to come and fetch his watch from the parlour mantel-piece, and his overcoat from the peg in the passage.’ “The ground seemed opening under my feet. ‘Did he say where the watch was?’ “‘Yes,’ said the landlady. “‘And the overcoat on the peg?’ “‘He did,’ said she, now all in a tremor of fright. ‘He seemed to know so exactly all about them, that I never suspected nothing at all.’ “‘And the coat’s gone, too?’ said I, looking into the passage. “‘That’s sartain,’ said the woman. “I rushed out; there was no time to lose. I ran round to all the pawnbrokers first; then to the police-office; then to the town-crier. I offered five pounds reward to any one who would detect the thief; I did that on my own head; I did not go to the parade—it would have been of no use—it would have been over—and I did not like to break the news. When I came back chop-fallen to our lodgings, there was my captain. The landlady had told him all. There he sate, dropped down into a low chair, and he looked now more like a corpse than he did in the coffin. He never spoke. I was horribly afraid that he’d go off into an apoplexy, or something, or lose his senses. ‘Captain,’ said I, ‘you’ve heard it.’ He never moved. ‘Captain!’ said I again, louder, and shook him by the shoulder. ‘It is no use sorrowing or fretting, we must be wide awake to recover the property.’ “Then he gave a great sigh, and seemed to rouse a little. ‘It is of no use,’ he said; ‘that was an old hand, that thief. Catch a weazel asleep, and shave his eye-brows. You’ll never catch that scamp. It is all up, Boddily. That was my last throw. There is not a single stone in this cursed world left unturned,’ and he went quite stupid and stony again.