"Perfectly; but I want to know who is the culprit. Can you help me?"

"We're trying to catch him, sir," said Tom.

"I'm afraid I know," said Uncle Richard.

"Yes, and I'm afraid that I know," said the Vicar, rather angrily.

"I'll name no names, but I fancy you suspect the same body that I did till I found our young friend's knife."

"And if we or you catch him," said Uncle Richard, "what would you do-- police?"

"No," said the Vicar firmly, "not for every sc.r.a.p of fruit I have in the garden. I don't hold with imprisoning a boy, except as the very last resort."

"Give him a severe talking to then?" said Uncle Richard dryly.

"First; and then I'm afraid that I should behave in a very illegal way.

But he is not caught yet."

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

The Vicar stopped and chatted, taking his seat upon the stool Tom had I before offered, and watched the process of making the speculum for some time before leaving, and then, shaking hands with Tom, he said, smiling--

"Shows how careful one ought to be in suspecting people, Tom Blount. We are none of us perfect. Good-bye."

"That's a hint for us, Tom," said Uncle Richard, as soon as they were alone. "Perhaps you are wrong about Master Pete Warboys too."

Tom thought about the pears thrown at Pete by his cousin, and shook his head.

"Pete wouldn't have been peeping over the wall, uncle, if he had not meant mischief."

"Perhaps not, Tom; but he may have meant mischief to you, and not to my pears."

Tom laughed, and they soon after went in to dinner.

That afternoon, and for an hour and a half in the evening, they worked again at the speculum by lamp-light, so that Tom was pretty tired when they gave up and returned to the cottage.

"Going to watch for the fruit burglar to-night, Tom?" asked Uncle Richard.

"Oh yes, uncle. I feel ten times as eager now Mr Maxted's plums have been stolen;" and, punctual to the moment, he stole down the garden, walking upon the velvety lawn, and advancing so silently upon David, that the gardener uttered a cry of alarm.

"Quite made me jump, Master Tom, coming on me so quiet like."

"I thought he might be hanging about," whispered back Tom. "Going to watch from the same place?"

"Ay, sir. Couldn't be better. Once we hear him at the pears we can drop upon him like two cats on a mouse."

"Yes," said Tom; "but we must mind and not scratch ourselves, David."

"Ay, we'll take care o' that, sir. But mind, no talking. Got your stick?"

"I stuck it upright in the second black-currant tree. Yes, here it is."

"That's right then, sir. There's your place, and I've got something better for you this time. I stuffed two sacks full o' hay, and you can sit down now like on a cushion, and pull the horse-cloth you'll find folded up over you."

"But what about you?"

"Oh, I've got one too, sir. I'm all right. Now then--mum!"

The hay made a faint sound as they both sat down after a glance round and listening intently. Then Tom pulled the horse-cloth up over his knees, for the night was chilly, and found it very warm and comfortable.

Then the various sounds from the village reached him--the barking of dogs, voices, the striking of the clock, the noise of wheels, the donkey's braying, with a regularity wonderfully like that of the previous night, and then all silence and darkness, and ears strained to hear the rustling sound which must be made by any one climbing over the wall.

The time glided on; and as it grew colder, Tom softly drew the rug cloak-fashion over his shoulders, listened to note whether David made any remark about the rustling sound he made, but all the gardener said was something which resembled the word _ghark_, which was followed by very heavy breathing.

"Gone to sleep again," said Tom to himself. "What's the good of his pretending to sit and watch?"

He secured his hazel, aimed for where his companion sat in the next alley between the blackcurrants, and gave him a poke with the point.

But this had not the slightest effect, and another and another were administered, but without the least result; and thinking that he would have to administer a smart cut to wake up his companion, Tom set himself to watch alone.

"Don't matter," he muttered. "I can manage just as well without him."

And then he sat in the thick darkness, with his ears strained to catch the slightest noise, thinking over the Vicar's visit that day, and about how he would like to catch Master Pete.

It was very warm and comfortable inside the horse-cloth, and must have been close upon nine o'clock, but he had not heard it strike. David was breathing regularly, so loudly sometimes that Tom felt disposed to rouse him up; but each time the breathing became easier, and he refrained.

"I don't mind," thought Tom. "I dare say he is very tired, and I don't want to talk to him. He's company all the same, even if he is asleep.

Wonder whether this speculum will turn out all right."

David was breathing very hard now, but if Pete came he would make too much noise in moving to notice the sound. Besides, he would not suspect that any one was watching out there in the darkness.

But the breathing was very loud now, and how warm and cosy and comfortable it was inside the rug! The hay, too, was very soft, and the stick all ready for Master Pete when he came. It would be so easy to hear him too, for David's heavy breathing, that was first cousin to a snore, now ceased, and the slightest sound made by any one coming--and then it was all blank.

How long?

Tom suddenly started up with but one thought that seemed to crush him.

"Why, I've been asleep!"

A feeling of rage against himself came over him, and then like a flash his thoughts were off in another direction, for, just in front, he could hear a rustling sound, as if some one was stirring leaves, and, stealing forward, he could just faintly see what appeared like a shadow busy at the Marie Louise pear-tree.

"Then he has come," thought Tom, as his hand closed upon the stick he still held. Softly letting the horse-cloth glide from his shoulders, he raised himself gently, feeling horribly stiff, but getting upon his legs without a sound.

And all the time there was the rustling, plucking sound going on at the tree upon the wall, as the shadow moved along it slowly.

All this was only a matter of moments, and included a thought which came to Tom's busy brain--should he try to awaken David?

"If I do," he felt, "there will be noise enough to scare the thief, and he'll escape."