He knew he was "in it." But what on earth had any proceedings of his a fortnight ago to do with the loss of the _Martha_?
"Went down to Templeton to a shop--" "What shop ?" demanded Mansfield.
"To Webster's shop," replied Pledge, beginning to be ruffled by the Captain's determined manner.
The "Firm" started suddenly.

Whatever was coming?
"While spending his time in the shop, the young gentleman, as young gentlemen sometimes do, stole a silver pencil." There was a pause, and every eye turned towards Coote, who gaped at the announcement and stared at his partners as if he had been confronted with a ghost.
On Dick's countenance a curious change was taking place.

Horror had already given way to bewilderment, and bewilderment was in turn giving way to something which actually looked like a grin.
"The young gentleman," proceeded Pledge, "had two dear friends, called Richardson and Heathcote, to whom he confided his stroke of business, and who joined him in concealing or disposing of the stolen article." Dick could remain silent no longer.

To the horror of his Firm, and the bewilderment of every one else--most of all, Pledge--he burst into a laugh, which sounded weird in the dead silence.
"Order!" cried Mansfield, sternly.

"Go on, Pledge." "I heard of the theft from the--from Webster immediately after it occurred, and for the last fortnight have been watching the culprits--" Here he was interrupted by a hiss, which the Captain immediately suppressed.
"And they have actually admitted their guilt in begging me not to tell of them to you." At this point Dick started up excitedly, and began-- "I should like to say--" But the Captain stopped him.
"You will be heard shortly.