Some one of us must have slipped the box into his pocket
unconsciously, mistaking it for his own. I will take the lead in
searching mine, if the rest of the company will follow!"
"Agreed!" said the rest, and each guest in turn went to the
bottom of one pocket after another, but still no snuff-box, and
the distress of the company increased. The old soldier's turn
came last, and with it came the surprise. With burning cheeks
and arms folded closely across his breast he stood up and
confronted the company like a stag at bay.
"No!" he exclaimed, "no one shall search my pockets! Would you
doubt the honor of a soldier?"
"But we have all done so," said the rest, "and every one knows it
is the merest accident at the most." But the old soldier only
held his arms the tighter, while the color grew deeper in his
face. In his perplexity his lordship thought of another
expedient.
"We will try another way, gentlemen," he said, "I will order a
basket of bran to be brought, and propose that each one in turn
shall thrust his hand into the bran. No one shall look on, and
if we find the box at last, no one can guess whose hand placed it
there."
It was quickly done, and hand after hand was thrust in, until at
last came the old soldier's turn once more. But he was nowhere
to be seen.
Then, at last the indignation of the company broke forth.
"A soldier, and a hero of Waterloo, and willing to be a thief!"
and with their distress about the affair, and his lordship's
grief at his loss, the evening was entirely spoiled.
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