“Whew!” ejaculated one of them. Both stared aghast at the wreck. Stooping over the other grasped the maltreated painting, partially raising it from the floor. The man who had indulged in the horrified exclamation now sprang to the assistance of his companion. Between them they disengaged it from the dragon’s horn and held it upright.
But it was a sorry sight. The spiked bronze protuberance had been the means of ripping a long gash in the canvas, which cut in two a particularly fine figure of a soldier.
“This is a positive crime,” burst forth the big man. “The picture’s ruined. It’s one of the Martin collection, you know. Belongs to Mr. Edward. It used to hang above the central archway on the third floor. He had it moved up here over Christmas because he thought it would look nice at this entrance. I was telling him only yesterday that I wouldn’t risk a valuable painting like that on an easel. It _was_ worth five thousand dollars. It’s not worth five now, thanks to this little ruffian.” He cast a withering glance at poor Teddy.
“I didn’t do it,” shrieked Teddy, his freckled face white with righteous rage. “I won’t be blamed for something I didn’t do!” Unknowingly, Teddy had uttered Harry’s very words of a few days past.
“Tell that to the marines,” sneered the big man. “If you didn’t, who did?”
“It was another fellow. I’m not saying who. He was here before I got here. He had that in his hand.” Teddy pointed to Leon’s hastily discarded implement of warfare. It was a woman’s black silk umbrella, tightly rolled. It lay on the floor precisely where Leon had fallen. “I was going up to the barracks and when I got to this floor I saw this fellow waving it around in front of that picture. I wondered what he was doing, and I came up to see. Just’s I got here, he smashed into the easel with it and tipped it over. Then he ran down those stairs. I yelled at him, but he kept on running. That’s the truth. I never went near the old picture.”
“You’re a pretty foxy kid to cook up a mess of yarns as quick as all that,” jeered his captor.
“They’re not yarns,” contradicted Teddy. “I don’t tell lies.”
“Oh, keep quiet, you little rat,” growled the big man, giving Teddy an ungentle shake.
“What do you suppose Mr. Edward’ll say when he hears about it?” said one of the two men who had run to the scene.