"I suppose the reputation of all detention masters is doubtful," said
Railsford, laughing; "yours or mine would be if we had his work to do.
But a man is innocent till he is proved guilty in England, isn't he?"

"Quite so," said Grover.  "I don't want to set you against him, for, as
I say, I know nothing of him.  All I mean, is, that you must be prepared
to share a little of his unpopularity if you take up with him.  That's
all."

"I'll take my chance of that," said Railsford.

The first time Monsieur Lablache appeared in Railsford's house, in
response to an invitation from the new master to come and take coffee,
there was considerable excitement in the house.  The juniors considered
their liberty was at stake, and hissed their master's guest down the
corridors.  The Shell boys presumed still further, and raised a cry of
"Turn him out!" and some even attempted to hustle him and trip him upon
the stairs.

But the most curious incident of that untriumphal progress was when
Munger, the cad of the Fifth, confronted monsieur in the lobby outside
Railsford's room with the shout, "He's going to raise money on his old
clothes at last!"  The brutal words (for monsieur was very shabbily
attired) were scarcely uttered when Railsford's door suddenly opened and
Munger was sent reeling across the lobby under a blow which echoed
through the house.  The Master of the Shell, white with rage, stood
there with a look on his face which sent the few loiterers packing to
their dens, and made Munger only sorry the wall against which he
staggered did not open and let him through.

"Come here, you--you boy!"

Munger advanced, scarcely less pale than his master.

"Apologise to Monsieur Lablache--here, down on your knees--for behaving
like a blackguard, and saying what you did!"

"No, it is no matter," began monsieur, with a shrug, when Mark checked
him by a gesture almost as intimidating as that by which he had just
summoned the offender.

"You hear me?" he said to the boy.

Munger went down on his knees and repeated whatever he was told; and
would have called himself by still worse names, had he been requested.
It didn't matter much to Munger!

"Now tell me your name?"

"Munger."

"Your form?"

"Fifth."

The master turned on his heel and ushered his guest into the room,
leaving Munger to rub his cheek, and wonder to himself how he ever came
to stand being knocked about in the way he had been that afternoon.

This had happened a day or two ago.  Since then, whatever the house
thought, no one was bold enough to molest the French master publicly in
Railsford's, unless it was perfectly certain Mr Railsford was out of
the way.

It would be a mistake to say the two masters had become devoted friends.
Monsieur Lablache's chief attraction in Railsford's eyes was that he
was looked down upon by the other masters, and persecuted by the boys;
while the French master was so unused to notice of any kind, that he
felt a trifle suspicious that the kindness of his new acquaintance might
be in some way a snare.  However, a little mutual mistrust sometimes
paves the way to a good deal of mutual confidence; and after a few days
the two men had risen considerably in one another's esteem.  When
Railsford, on the evening in question, crushed Mr Bickers's note up in
his hand, with an angry exclamation, monsieur said--

"_Voila, mon cher_ Railsford, you do not get always _billets-doux_?"

Monsieur had heard, of course, as everyone else had, of the new master's
matrimonial prospects.

"No," said Railsford, gloomily; "not always," and he pitched Mr
Bickers's letter into the grate as he spoke.

"Perhaps," said monsieur, "you do not always write them.  I advise you
to not answer that letter."

"Why?" said Railsford, "how do you know what that letter is?"

"I do not know; but I think that it does need no answer."

Railsford laughed.  "You are setting up as a soothsayer, monsieur.
Suppose I tell you that letter does need an answer, quickly?"

"Then, I say, somebody else will answer it better than you will."

Railsford picked the crushed-up letter off the coals just in time to
save it from the flames.

"How should you answer it, monsieur?"

Monsieur slowly unfolded the paper and smoothed it out.

"Meester Beekaire!" said he, with a twist of his moustache, as he
recognised the writing.  "You mean that I read it?"

"Certainly, if you like."

The Frenchman read the document through, and then pitched it back into
the fire.

"Well?" said Railsford.

"Well, my good friend, it seems you do not know Meester Beekaire as well
as others."

"Is that all?" said Railsford, a little nettled.

"The masters' meeting is to-night, is it not?"

"So he says."

"You shall go?"

"Of course."

"It will not be pleasant times for you, for you will need to make
speeches, my good friend."

"Look here," said Railsford, who was getting a little impatient of these
enigmatical utterances, "I fancied you could give me some advice; if you
can't, let us talk about something more pleasant."

"I do give you advice.  I say to you, go to the meeting, and say you did
wrong, and will not do it again--"

"What!" thundered Mark, in a voice which made Arthur and the baronet in
the room overhead jump out of their chairs.

"My kind Railsford, it is only my advice.  You have been in the wrong.
I say to you, as a brave man, do not make yourself more wrong.  Meester
Beekaire would help you very much to make yourself more wrong.  Do not
let him help you, I say."

Unpalatable as it was, there was some force in his visitor's advice,
which Railsford was bound to admit.  Poor monsieur was not a shining
example of successful dealing with his fellow-masters.  Still, out of
the mouth of the simple one may sometimes hear a home truth.

The masters' session was a periodical conference of the Grandcourt
masters, half social, half business, for the purpose of talking over
matters of common school interest, discussing points of management, and
generally exchanging ideas on what was passing in the little world of
which they were the controllers.  Dr Ponsford rarely, if ever, put in
an appearance on such occasions; he had the greatest faith in holding
himself aloof from detail, and not making himself too accessible either
to master or boy.  Only when the boys could not settle a matter for
themselves, or the masters could not settle it for them, he interfered
and settled it without argument and without appeal.  It was never
pleasant when the doctor had to be called in, and the feeling against
such a step contributed very largely to the success of the school's
self-government.

Railsford by this time knew most of his fellow-masters to speak to, but
this was the first occasion on which he had met them in their corporate
capacity, and had he not been personally interested in the proceedings
he would felt a pleasant curiosity in the deliberations of this august
body.

Mr Bickers was already there, and nodded in a most friendly way to the
Master of the Shell on his arrival.  Grover and Mr Roe welcomed their
new colleague warmly, and began at once to compare notes as to school-
work.  A few minutes later Monsieur Lablache, a little smarter than
usual, came in, and having bowed to the company generally--a salute
which no one seemed to observe--subsided on a retired seat.  Railsford,
to the regret perhaps of some of his friends, presently walked across
and took a seat beside him, and the meeting began.

"Before we come to business," began Mr Roe, who by virtue of his
seniority occupied the chair, "I am sure the meeting would wish me to
express their pleasure at seeing Mr Railsford among us for the first
time, and to offer him a hearty welcome to Grandcourt."

"Hear, hear," said Grover and others, amongst whom Mr Bickers's voice
was conspicuous.

Railsford felt uncomfortable thus to become an object of general notice,
and coloured up as he nodded his acknowledgments to the chairman.

"They do not know of your scrape," said monsieur, cheerfully.  "I would
tell them about it, my good friend, before Meester Beekaire makes his
little speech."

Railsford glared round at his companion, and felt his heart thumping at
the prospect of the task before him.

"There are one or two matters," began Mr Roe, "to bring before--"

Railsford rose to his feet and said, "Mr Roe, and gentlemen--"

There was a dead silence at this unexpected interruption, broken only by
an encouraging cheer from Mr Bickers.

Supposing the new master was about to acknowledge the compliment just
paid him by a set speech, Mr Roe put down his agenda paper and said,
"Mr Railsford."

"If you will allow me," began Mark, rather breathlessly, "I would like
to refer to a matter which personally concerns myself.  I should not
venture to do it in this way, immediately after your kind welcome, if I
did not feel it to be my duty.  Yesterday, gentlemen, an unfortunate
incident occurred in my house--(`Hear, hear,' and a smile from Mr
Bickers).  I went--"

"Excuse me," said the chairman, "may I explain to Mr Railsford, as he
is a new member here, that our practice is invariably to take up any
questions in order of the seniority of the masters present.  Mr Smith,
I believe, has a motion on the paper--"

Poor Railsford subsided, full of confusion, stripped of his good
resolutions, abusing himself for his folly, and wishing Monsieur
Lablache and his advice at the bottom of the sea.

What Mr Smith and the other masters who followed had to say he neither
heard nor cared.  His determination to admit his own error had oozed
away, and he resolved that if his story was to be kept waiting, it
should be none the sweeter, when it did come, for the delay.

Several topics were discussed pleasantly, with a view to elicit the
opinion of the meeting on small questions of policy and discipline.

Presently Mr Roe turned to Bickers.  "I think you said you had some
question to ask, Mr Bickers?"

"Oh, well, yes.  Mine's quite a hypothetical point, though," began Mr
Bickers, airily.  "I just wanted to ask, supposing one of us becomes
aware of a riot in a neighbouring house, during the absence of the
master of that house, and ascertains, moreover, that the prefects on
duty, so far from making any attempt to control the disorder, are
participating in it, I presume there can be no question that it would be
the duty of anyone of us to interfere in such a case?  It's quite a
hypothetical case, mind, but it might occur."

"Certainly, I should say, if you were quite sure the proper house
authorities were not there to enforce order," said Mr Roe.

"Of course," said Grover; "but it's rather an unlikely case, isn't it?"

"It occurred in my house last night," broke in Railsford, hotly.  "I was
at the Athletic Union, and two of my prefects; the other two were left
in charge.  Mr Bickers took upon himself to interfere in my absence,
and I have written to tell him that I consider his action impertinent,
and resent it.  In reply, he writes--"

"A _private_ letter," interposed Mr Bickers hurriedly, evidently not
relishing the prospect of having his effusion read.

"It was not marked `private,' but I can quite understand the writer
would not like to hear it read aloud here.  All I wish to say is that
his hypothetical case is no more hypothetical than his interference was
in the affairs of my house; and that if he asks my opinion on the
matter, I shall tell him he would do better to mind his own business!"

Railsford sat down, very hot, and painfully conscious that he had not
exhibited the moderation and temper which he had promised himself to
observe.

An embarrassed silence ensued.  Mr Roe, a man of peace, frowned, and
turned inquiringly to Bickers.

Bickers stroked his beard and smiled, and said nothing.

"Do you wish to say anything?" asked the chairman.

"By no means.  Mr Railsford has said all I could wish said far more
eloquently than I could.  Shall we go on to the next business, Mr
Chairman?"

As for Railsford, the further proceeding had no interest for him, and he
vanished the moment the meeting was over, without speaking to anyone.

As Mr Bickers walked off towards his house, he really felt a little
sorry for his fellow-master, who had let himself down by so paltry an
exhibition of temper thus early in his career.  However, no doubt he
would take to heart to-night's lesson, and do himself more justice in
future.  Mr Bickers, in the fulness of his heart, took a little round
of the big square on his way home, with the double intent of giving
himself the air, and perchance intercepting, for the good of the school,
one or more youthful night-birds in their truant excursions.  This was a
kind of sport in which Mr Bickers was particularly successful, and
which, therefore (as became a successful sportsman), he rather enjoyed.
To his credit be it said, he was strictly impartial in his dealings;
whether the culprit belonged to his own house (as often happened) or to
another's, he was equally down upon him, and was never known to relax
his penalties for the most plausible excuse set up by his ingenious
victims.

To-night it seemed as if he would return without a "bag" at all, and he
was about to resign himself to his disappointment, when his quick eyes
detected in the darkness a hovering shadow moving ahead of him in the
direction of Railsford's house.  It vanished almost immediately, but not
before the master had caught a faintly uttered "Hist!" which betrayed
that he had to deal with more than one truant.  He quickened his pace a
little, and came once more in view of the phantom slinking along by the
wall at a pace which was not quite a run.  Rather to Mr Bickers's
surprise the fugitive passed the door of Railsford's, and made straight
on towards the chapel, slackening pace as he did so.

"A decoy," said the knowing master to himself.  "Employed to draw me on
while the rest make good their retreat.  There is a touch of generosity
in the decoy which one is bound to admire; but on this occasion, my
young friend, you are dealing with rather too aged a bird to be
caught--"

At this moment he had come up to the door of Railsford's, and before his
soliloquy had been able to advance by another word he seemed to see
sparks before his eyes, while at the same moment his feet went from
under him, and something was drawn over his head.  The bag, or whatever
it was, was capacious; for the neck of it descended to his waist, and
closed by the magic of a slip-knot round his mouth and elbows before he
had the presence of mind to shout or throw out his arms.  To complete
his misfortune, as he tried to raise himself, another noose was snugly
cast around his feet, and thus gagged and pinioned, silently, rapidly,
and dexterously, Mr Bickers found himself in a situation in which, he
could positively aver, he had never stood--or lain--before.

The thought did flash through his sack-enveloped head, that his
assailants, whoever they were, must have rehearsed this little comedy
carefully and diligently for a day or two, in order to arrive at the
perfection displayed in the present performance.  He also made a mental
calculation that three, possibly four, fellow-beings were engaged on the
job, of whom two were strong, and two were small; one of the latter
possibly being the decoy whom he had so lately apostrophised.

Not a syllable was uttered during the ceremony; and the victim
recognising his position, had the good sense to remain cool and not
waste his time and dignity in a fruitless struggle.

The pinioning being complete, and a small hole being considerately
opened in the sack in the region of the nose for purposes of
respiration, he was hauled up one or two steps, dragged one or two feet,
deposited on the board floor of the shoe-cupboard, and, after a few mild
and irresolute kicks, left to his own meditations, the last sound which
penetrated into the sack being the sharp turning of a key on the outside
of his dungeon door.

"So," soliloquised Mr Bickers, after discovering that he was unhurt,
though uncomfortably cramped, "our friend Railsford is having one lodger
more than the regulation number to-night.  This will make another
hypothetical case for the next session of masters!"

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE DOCTOR HAS A WORD OR TWO WITH RAILSFORD'S HOUSE.

Railsford's house was not famous for early risers.  The chapel-bell in
winter began to ring at 7.30, and "call-over" was at 7.45.  Between
these two periods, but chiefly at the 7.45 end, most of the rising in
the house was accomplished.  Master Simson, the Shell-fish, was in for
the hundred yards under fourteen at the sports; and being a shy youth
who did not like to practise in public, he had determined to rise before
the lark and take a furtive spin round the school track while his
schoolfellows and enemies slept.  It was a cold, raw morning, and before
he was fully arrayed in his flannels he had had more than one serious
idea of relapsing into bed.  Be it said to his credit, he resisted the
temptation, and gallantly finished his toilet, putting on an extra
"sweater" and pea-jacket to boot--for he had seven pounds to run off
between now and the sports.  He peered out of the window; it was dark,
but a patter on the panes showed him that a light sleet was falling
outside.  If so, being of a frugal mind, he would not run in his new
shoes, but in his old boots.

Now, his old boots were in the cupboard under the staircase by the front
door.  And the reader understands at last why it is I have taken so much
trouble to describe Master Simson's movements on this particular
morning.

It was so rare an event for any boy to be up at six o'clock on a winter
morning in Railsford's, that no one had ever thought about making a rule
to prevent the early birds leaving the house at that hour, if they could
succeed in getting out.  Simson, who had interest with the cook,
believed he could get an _exeat_ through the kitchen window; meanwhile
he must get his boots.  He armed himself with a match--the last one in
the box--and quietly felt his way along the corridor and down the
stairs.  There was a glimmer of light from under the maids' door as he
passed, which told him they were up and that he would not have long to
wait downstairs.  At the foot of the stairs he turned sharp round, and
following the wall with his hand, came at length on the familiar handle
of the "boot-box."  To his surprise the door was locked, but the key was
on the outside.

"A sell if I hadn't been able to get in," said he to himself, opening
the door.

Now Simson, like a cautious youth, aware of the frailty of matches,
wisely resolved to penetrate as far as possible into the interior of the
cupboard, in the direction in which he knew his particular boots to be,
before striking a light.

But at the first step he tripped on something and fell prostrate over a
human carcase, which emitted a muffled gasp and moved heavily as he
tumbled upon it.  Then there went up a yell such as curdled the blood of
half Railsford's as they lay in their beds, and made the domestics up-
stairs cling to one another in terror, as if their last moment had come.

Simson, with every hair on his head erect, made a frantic dive out of
that awful den, banging the door and locking it behind him in a frenzy
of fright.  Then he dashed up-stairs, and plunged, as white as his
shirt, into the dormitory.

Another yell signalised his arrival.  Not his, this time, but the joint
performance of the other occupants of the room, who, sitting up with
their chins on their knees, half petrified by the horror of the first
shriek, now gave themselves up for lost when the door broke open in the
dark, and a gasping something staggered into the room.

"There's some--bo--dy been mur--dered," gasped Simson, "in the bo--ot-
box!"

Everybody was on his feet in a moment.

"Murdered?"

"Yes," said Simson, wonderfully comforted by the noise and general
panic.  "I got up early, you know, to have a grind on the track, and
went to get my boots, and--I--I fell over it!"

"Over what?"

"The bo--od--y," whispered Simson.

"Has anybody got a light?" shouted Arthur.

But at that moment a light appeared at the door, and Ainger came in.

"What's all this row--what's the matter?"

"Simson says somebody's been murdered in the boot-box," replied Arthur.
"I say, hadn't we better go and see?"

It was a practical suggestion.  The corridor was already full of half-
dressed inquirers, and a moment later Mr Railsford's door opened.  The
story was repeated to him.

"Come with me, Ainger," said he, quietly; "the rest of you return to
your dormitories, and remain there."

Arthur, seized by a noble desire not to leave his future kinsman
unprotected in such an hour of peril, elected to disregard this last
order, and, accompanied by his henchman, followed the candle at a
respectful distance down the stairs.

"There's no blood on the stairs," observed the baronet, in a whisper.

"They've left the key in the door," muttered Arthur.

"Hold the light," said Railsford, turning the key, and entering.

Prostrate on the ground, bound hand and foot, and enveloped down to the
waist in a sack, lay the figure of a man, motionless, but certainly not
dead, for sounds proceeded from the depths of the canvas.  In a moment
Railsford had knelt and cut the cords round the prisoner's feet and
hands, while Ainger drew the sack from the head.

Arthur gave a whistle of consternation as the features of Mr Bickers
came to light, pale and stern.  The sudden sight of Medusa's head could
hardly have had a more petrifying effect.  The victim himself was the
first to recover.  Stretching his arms and legs in relief, he sat up,
and coolly said,--

"Thank you."

"Whatever does all this mean?" exclaimed Railsford, helping him to rise,
for he was very stiff and cramped.

"That I cannot say.  Kindly reach my hat, Ainger."

"Who has done this?"

"That, too, I cannot say.  I can walk, thank you."

"Won't you come to my room and have something?  You really must," said
Railsford, taking his arm.

Mr Bickers disengaged his arm, and said coldly, "Thank you, no; I will
go to my own, if you will open the door."

Arthur at this moment came up officiously with a glass of water, which
Mr Bickers drank eagerly, and then, declining one last offer of
assistance, went slowly out towards his own house.

Railsford retired to his room and threw himself into his chair in a
state of profound dejection.  Mysterious as the whole affair was, one or
two things were clear.  The one was that his house was disgraced by this
criminal and cowardly outrage, the other was that the situation was made
ten times more difficult on account of the already notorious feud
between himself and the injured master.  His high hopes were once more
dashed to the ground, and this time, it almost seemed, finally.

Mark Railsford was no coward, yet for half an hour that morning he
wished he might be well out of Grandcourt for ever.  Then, having
admitted cooler counsels, he dressed and went to the captain's study.

"Call the other prefects here, Ainger.  I want to talk to you."

The seniors were not far off, and speedily assembled.

"First of all," said the master, who perceived at a glance that it was
not necessary for him to explain the gravity of the situation, "can any
of you give me any information about this disgraceful affair?"

"None, sir," said Ainger, a little nettled at the master's tone; "we
have talked it over, and, as far as we are concerned, it's a complete
mystery."

"Have you any reason to suspect anybody?"

"None at all, sir."

"You know, all of you, I needn't tell you, that the credit of the house
is at stake--in fact, it's gone till we find the offenders.  Mr Bickers
will naturally report the matter to Dr Ponsford, and I am going to the
doctor for the same purpose.  I wished to consult you before taking any
step, because this is a matter in which we must work together."

"Certainly, sir," said Ainger, speaking for the rest.

"What I mean is, that no personal feeling must come between us and the
duty we all owe to Grandcourt to see this wrong put right; you
understand me?"

"Yes," said the downright Ainger; "we none of us like Mr Bickers, but
we must find out the fellows who scragged him, all the same."

"Exactly; and I am glad to hear you say that.  There is one other
matter.  Two of you, Stafford and Felgate, recently felt specially
aggrieved by something which Mr Bickers said to you.  You must forget
all that now, and remember only that your duty to the whole school
requires that you should do everything in your power to help to put an
end to this scandal."

"Of course we shall," said Felgate, curtly, in a tone which Railsford
did not consider particularly encouraging.

However, having opened his mind to his lieutenants, he went away
straight to the doctor's.  Mr Bickers was leaving just as he entered,
and Railsford read in his looks, as he brushed past, no great
encouragement to hope that things would soon be made right.

"Mr Bickers," said he, advancing almost in front of his colleague, "I
_must_ tell you how distressed I am at what has occurred.  I--"

"Yes, it _is_ trying for you," said the injured master, drily.  "Excuse
me, though; I want my breakfast."

It was not easy to feel cordial sympathy with a man like this.  However,
there was nothing for it but to go and lay his case before the doctor,
and Railsford entered accordingly.

Dr Ponsford was at breakfast, and asked his visitor to take a seat.

"You have come to tell me that Mr Bickers's assailants are discovered?"
said he.

"I wish I could," said Railsford.  "I have only had time to speak to my
prefects."

"Two of whom are not to be trusted, and profess a personal spite against
Mr Bickers."

This was just like the doctor.  He gave other people information and
never wanted any himself.

"I know, of course, what you refer to.  I have not myself found any
reason to consider Felgate or Stafford untrustworthy.  Mr Bickers
says--"

"I know what Mr Bickers says; but what do you say?"

"Well, sir, frankly, I do not feel quite sure of Felgate; and Stafford
is too amiable to say `no' to anybody."

"Now let me hear about the affair this morning."

Railsford gave a careful account of the discovery of Mr Bickers in the
boot-box, and was conscious that the doctor, although he gave little
sign of it, was not quite blind to the unfortunate position in which he,
as the new master of the offending house, was placed.

"Have a call-over of your house at ten o'clock, Mr Railsford.  I will
come."

This announcement was about as cheerful a one in Grandcourt as an
appointment made by the Court of the Inquisition would have been, once
upon a time, in Spain, Railsford rose to go.

"You had better stop and have breakfast here," said the doctor, ringing
the bell for another cup.  During the meal no further reference was made
to the event of the morning, but Railsford was drawn out as to his work
and the condition of his house generally, and was painfully aware that
the doctor was making the best of his time to reckon him up.  He only
wished he could guess the verdict.  But on this point he received no
light, and went off presently charged with the unpleasant task of
summoning his house to answer for themselves at the bar of the head-
master.

It was a curious spectacle, the crowd of boys which assembled in the
common room that morning at Railsford's.  Some were sulky, and resented
this jumbling of the innocent and guilty.  Some were so anxious to
appear guileless and gay, that they overdid it and compromised
themselves in consequence.  Some were a little frightened lest an all-
round flogging should be proposed.  Some whispered mysteriously, and
looked askance at one or two fellows who had been "mentioned" as
possibly implicated.  Some, like Arthur and the baronet, with Simson
squeezed in between them, looked knowing and important, as though horses
and chariots would not drag their secret out of them.  Ainger looked
pale, and his big chest went up and down in a manner which those who
knew him felt to be ominous.  Stafford looked alternately solemn and
sneering, according as he turned to the captain or Felgate.  And
Barnworth alone looked comfortable, and, apparently, had not an idea
what all the excitement was about.

At ten o'clock Railsford entered in his cap and gown, and Ainger
immediately began to call over the roll.  Every one answered to his name
except Maple of the Shell, who was away at his father's funeral, and
Tomkins the Baby, who had been so scared by the whole affair, that he
had turned sick during breakfast, and retired--with the dame's
permission--to bed.

During the call-over the doctor had entered and seated himself at the
master's desk.  His quick eye took in each boy as he uttered his
"Adsum," dwelling longer on some than on others, and now and then
turning his glance to the master and senior prefect.  When it was all
over and Ainger had handed in the list, the head-master took his
eyeglass from his eye, laid the list on the desk before him, and said--

"Boys, this is an unusual and unpleasant visit.  You know the object of
it; you know the discredit which at present lies on your house and on
Grandcourt, and you know what your duty is in the matter.  If any boy
here does not know what I mean, let him stand up."

It was as much as the life of anybody present was worth to respond to
this challenge.  One or two who could never hear a good story too often
would not have objected if somebody else had demanded further
information.  But for their own part, their discretion outdid their
curiosity, and they retained their seats amidst a dead silence.

"Very well.  Now I will put a question to you as a body.  It is a very
serious question, and one which no honest boy here, if he is able to
answer it, can afford to evade.  A great deal more depends on your
answer than the mere expulsion of one or more wrong-doers.  You boys are
the guardians of the honour of your house.  The only honourable thing at
a time like this is to speak the truth, whatever the consequences.  The
question I ask is this-- Was any boy here concerned in the outrage on
Mr Bickers? or does any boy know who was?  I will wait for two minutes,
that you may understand the importance of the question, before I call
for an answer."

Dead silence.  The boys for the most part looked straight before them
with heightened colour, and watched the slow progress of the minute-hand
of the clock.

"I repeat the question now," said the doctor, when the allotted time had
run--"Was any boy here concerned in the outrage on Mr Bickers? or does
any boy know who was?  If so, let him stand up."

The silence which followed was broken to some by the thumping of their
own hearts.  But no one rose; and a sense of relief came to all but
Railsford, who felt his spirits sink as the prospect of a near end to
his trouble receded.

"Every boy here," said the doctor, slowly, "denies all knowledge of the
affair?"

Silence gave consent.

"Then," continued the head-master, more severely, putting up his
eyeglass, and handing the list to Ainger, "I shall put the question to
each boy separately.  Call over the list, and let each boy come up and
answer."

Ainger began by calling out his own name, and forthwith walked up to the
master's desk.

"Do you know anything whatever of this affair?" asked the doctor,
looking him full in the face.

"No, sir," said Ainger, returning the look, after his fashion, half
defiantly.

The next name was called, and its owner marched up to the desk and
uttered his denial.  Railsford, as he stood scanning keenly the face of
each boy in turn, felt that he was watching the action of some strange
machine.  First Ainger's clear voice.  Then the short "Adsum," and the
footsteps up to the desk.  Then the doctor's stern question.  Then the
quick look-up and the half-defiant "No, sir," (for they all caught up
the captain's tone).  And, finally, the retreating footsteps, and the
silence preceding the next name.

There was no sign of faltering; and, wherever the secret lurked,
Railsford saw little chance of it leaking out.  A few boys, indeed, as
was natural, gave their replies after their own fashion.  Barnworth
looked bored, and answered as though the whole performance was a waste
of time.  Arthur Herapath was particularly knowing in his tone, and
accompanied his disclaimer with an embarrassing half-wink at his future
kinsman.  Felgate said "No" without the "sir," and swaggered back to his
place with an ostentatious indifference which did not go unnoted.  The
baronet, who was nothing if not original, said nothing, but shook his
head.

"Reply to the question, sir!" thundered the doctor, ominously.

Whereat Sir Digby, losing his head, said, "No, thank you, sir," and
retired, amid some confusion.

Simson, when interrogated, mildly added to his "No, sir" the explanatory
sentence, "except finding him there when I went for my boots"; and
Munger, the cad, added to his answer, "but I'll try to find out," with a
leer and an oily smile, which Ainger felt strongly tempted to
acknowledge by a kick as he passed back to his place.  Stafford,
painfully aware that he was one of the "mentioned" ones, looked horribly
confused and red as he answered to his name, and satisfied several of
the inexpert ones present that it was hardly necessary to look further
for one of the culprits.

So the call-over passed, and when once more Ainger handed in the list
Railsford seemed further than ever from seeing light through the cloud
which enveloped it.  The doctor's brow darkened as he took once more his
glass from his eye.

"This is very serious," said he, slowly.  "When I came here it was with
the painful feeling that the house contained boys so cowardly and
unprincipled as to waylay a defenceless man in the dark, and to treat
him as Mr Bickers has been treated.  But it is tenfold worse to believe
that it contains boys cowardly enough to involve the whole house in
their own disgrace and punishment.  (Sensation.)  I will not mince
matters.  Your house is deeply disgraced, and cannot pretend to rank any
longer with the other houses, who at least have a good name, until you
have yourselves made this matter right.  It rests with you to retrieve
your credit.  Meanwhile--"

Everybody took a long breath.  The occasion was as when the judge puts
on the black cap before passing sentence of death.

"Meanwhile the house will cease to dine in Hall, but will dine in this
room at one o'clock daily; and on Saturdays, instead of taking the half-
holiday in the afternoon, you will take it in the morning, and assemble
for school at twelve o'clock.  I still trust that there may be
sufficient self-respect among you to make this change only of slight
duration; or that," and here the doctor's tone grew bitter, and his
mouth gathered sarcastically--"at least self-interest may come to your
assistance, and make it possible to return to the old order."

And he stalked from the room.

"Let us off easy, eh?" said the baronet.

"Easy?" fumed Arthur; "he might as well have given us a bit of rope a-
piece and told us to go and hang ourselves!  Look at Ainger; do you
suppose _he_ thinks we've been let off easy?"

The captain's face left no doubt on that question.

CHAPTER NINE.

AINGER HAS A CRUMPET FOR TEA, AND SMEDLEY SINGS A SONG.

Railsford for a brief moment had shared the opinion of his distinguished
pupil, that the doctor had let the house off easily.  But two minutes'
reflection sufficed to undeceive him.  The house was to dine daily at
one o'clock in Railsford's.  That meant that they were to be cut off
from all association with the rest of the school out of school hours,
and that just when all the rest turned out into the playing-fields they
were to sit down at their disgraced board.  The half-holiday regulation
was still worse.  For that meant nothing short of the compulsory
retirement of his boys from all the clubs, and, as far as athletics
went, their total exclusion from every match or contest open to the
whole school.

The house was slower at taking in the situation of affairs than the
master.  With the exception of Ainger, on whom the full significance of
the doctor's sentence had flashed from the first, there was a general
feeling of surprise that so big a "row" should be followed by so
insignificant a retribution.

"Who cares what time we have dinner," said Munger to some of his
admirers, "as long as we get it after all?  Now if old Punch (this was
an irreverent corruption of the head-master's name current in certain
sets at Grandcourt)--if old Punch had stopped our grub one day a week--"

"Besides," broke in another, "we'll get things hotter than when we dined
in hall."

"A precious sight hotter," said Arthur, wrathfully.  "What are we to do
at beagle-time to-morrow?  Just when the hounds start we've got to turn
in to dinner.  Bah!"

This was the first practical illustration of the inconvenience of the
new _regime_, and it instantly suggested others.

"We'll be stumped," said Tilbury, "if this goes on after cricket
starts--it'll be all up with any of us getting into one of the School
matches."

"I suppose," said Ranger of the Fifth, "this will knock all of us out of
the sports, too?"

Fellows looked blank at the suggestion.  Yet a moment's reflection
showed that Ranger was right.  One o'clock was the daily training hour
in the playing-fields, and Saturday afternoon four weeks hence was the
date fixed for the School sports.

It took some days for Railsford's house to accommodate itself to the new
order of things imposed upon it.  Indeed, it took twenty-four hours for
Grandcourt generally to comprehend the calamity which had befallen the
disgraced house.  When one o'clock arrived on the first afternoon, and
neither Ainger, Wake, Wignet, Tilbury, Herapath, nor the other familiar
frequenters of the playing-field, put in an appearance, speculation
began to pass about as to the cause of their absence.  Some of Bickers's
boys knew there had been a "howling shine" about something.  But it was
not till Smedley, impatient to settle some question relating to the
sports, sent his fag to fetch Ainger that it became generally known what
had happened.  The fag returned with an important face.

"Such a go!" said he, in reply to his chief's inquiry; "there's a feast
going on at Railsford's!  Smelt fine!  I saw them through the door, but
couldn't go in, because Railsford was there.  Ainger and all the lot
were tucking in.  The beef was just going in, so they've only just
started."

"Jolly shame!" said someone who overheard this announcement; "we never
get feasts in our house!  I suppose Railsford thinks he'll get his chaps
in a good-humour by it.  It's not fair unless everybody does it."

"It'll be hall-time before they've done.  We'd better not wait," said
one of the Sixth.  "I wonder what it all means?"

"I heard Ponsford had been down rowing them about something this
morning--something some of them had been doing to Bickers, I believe."

"Very likely; Bickers looked as green as a toad this morning, didn't he,
Branscombe?"

"He did look fishy," said Branscombe, shortly, "but I say, Smedley,
hadn't we better measure off without Ainger, and get him to see if he
approves afterwards?"

So the work went on without the representatives of Railsford's house,
and the bell rang for school-dinner before any of the missing ones had
put in an appearance.

The mystery was heightened when in Hall the fifty seats usually occupied
by Railsford's boys stood empty; and no inquiry was made from the
masters' table as to the cause of the defection.  It was noticed that
Mr Railsford himself was not present, and that Mr Bickers still looked
upset and out of sorts.

"Have you any idea what the row is?" said Smedley to Branscombe as the
company stood round the tables, waiting for the doctor.

"How should I know?  You'd better go and ask up there."

Smedley did.  As the doctor entered, he marched up to meet him, and
said,--

"None of Mr Railsford's house are here yet, sir."

"Quite right.  Call silence for grace and begin," said the doctor,
slowly.

For the rest of the day Railsford's seemed to be playing hide and seek
with the rest of the school, and it was not till late in the evening
that the mystery was cleared up.

"Come and let's see what it's all about," said Smedley to Branscombe.

Both the seniors had been fretting all the afternoon with a sense of
something gone wrong at Grandcourt, the former with just a little
indignation that he, the captain of the school, should be kept in the
dark, along with everybody else, on the subject.

"I ought to work," said Branscombe; "you go and _tell_ me what's up."

"Why, I thought you were as anxious as anyone to know?"

"So I am," said Branscombe, who to do him justice looked thoroughly
worried; "but you know while there's this row on between the two houses
I--I don't care to go over there without being asked."

"_I_ asked you, didn't I?" said Smedley.  "You're not afraid of being
eaten up, are you?  Never mind.  I'll brave the wild beasts myself, and
let you know how I get on."

It was the rule at Grandcourt that after dark no boy from one house
might enter another without permission.  Smedley therefore went straight
to Railsford.

"May I go and see Ainger, please, sir?"

"Certainly.  And, Smedley," said the master, as the captain retired,
"look in here for a moment as you go out.  I want to see you about the
sports."

Smedley found Ainger alone, and heard from him a full, true, and
particular account of the day's events.

The captain's wrath was unbounded.

"What!" he exclaimed, "cut all of you out of the sports and everything!
I say, Ainger, it must be stopped, I tell you.  I'll go to the doctor."

"Might as well go to the unicorn over the gate," said Ainger.

"Can't you find the fellows?"

"That's just it.  There's not even a fellow in the house I can suspect
so far."

"You feel sure it's one of your fellows?"

"It couldn't be anyone else.  Roe's and Grover's fellows never come over
our side, and never have anything to do with Bickers.  And it's hardly
likely any of Bickers's fellows would have done it.  In fact, ever since
Bickers came in here the other night and thrashed one of our fellows,
the two houses have been at daggers drawn."

"So Branscombe said.  He didn't seem to care about coming in with me.  I
asked him."

"I don't wonder.  Some of the young fools down there would give him a
hot reception for no other reason than that he belongs to Bickers's
house."

"I don't fancy he's proud of that distinction," said Smedley, laughing.
"But, I say, can't anything be done?"

"Nothing; unless Railsford can do anything."

"Railsford asked me to go in and see him.  Come, too, old man."

But Railsford had nothing to suggest.  He explained dejectedly the
effect of the doctor's sentence.  It meant that his house was out of
everything in the playing-fields; and that, as for himself, he was as
much excluded as his boys.  And he confirmed Ainger's opinion that it
was utterly useless to appeal further to the doctor.

"It would be only fair, sir," said Smedley, "for you to take back the
prize and subscription you offered for the sports."

"Certainly not, my dear fellow," said the master.  "If I cannot take
part in the sports in person, at least I would like to have some finger
in the pie."

That was all that passed.

"I like Railsford," said Smedley; "he's genuinely cut up."

"It's awfully rough on him," replied Ainger.

The two friends said good-bye.

"By the way, Smedley," said Ainger, calling the captain back, "I may as
well tell you, we are going to have our revenge for all this."

"What!" said Smedley, rather alarmed.  "Surely you're not going to--"

"To roast the doctor?  No.  But we're going to make this the crack house
of the school in spite of him."

Smedley laughed.

"Good!  You've a busy time before you, old man.  I'll promise to keep it
dark--ha! ha!"

"You may think it a joke, dear old chap," said Ainger, standing at the
door and watching his retreating figure, "but even the captain of
Grandcourt will have to sit up by-and-by."

Smedley, the brave and impetuous, walked straight from Railsford's to
the doctor's.  He knew his was a useless mission, but he wasn't going to
shirk it.  The doctor would snub him and tell him to mind his own
affairs; "but"--so said the hero to himself--"what do I care?  I'll tell
him a piece of my mind, and if he like to tell me a piece of his, that's
only fair.  Here goes!"

The doctor was engaged in his study, said the servant; but if Mr
Smedley would step into the drawing-room he would come in a few minutes.
Smedley stepped into the dimly-lighted drawing-room accordingly, which,
to his consternation, he found already had an occupant.  The doctor's
niece was at the piano.

Smedley, for once in a way, behaved like a coward, and having advanced a
step or two into the room, suddenly turned tail and retreated.

"Don't go, Mr Smedley," said a pleasant voice behind him.  "Uncle will
be here in a minute."

"Oh, I--good-evening, Miss Violet.  I'm afraid of--"

"Not of me, are you?  I'll go if you like," said she, laughing, "and
then you'll have the room to yourself."

"Oh no, please.  I didn't mean that.  Won't you play or sing something,
Miss Violet?"

So Miss Violet sang "Cherry Ripe," and then, the doctor not having yet
put in an appearance, Smedley asked if she would mind playing the
accompaniment of "Down among the Dead Men," as he would like to try it
over.

The young lady cheerfully complied, and when presently the head-master
stalked into the room he was startled, and possibly a little amused, to
be met with the defiant shout of his head boy,--

  "And he that will this health deny,
  Down among the dead men--down among the--"

He was shaking his fist above his head, after the fashion of the song at
the school suppers, when he suddenly stopped short at the sight of the
doctor, and realised the horror of the situation.

"Go on, Mr Smedley," said Miss Violet, "finish the verse.  We shan't be
a moment, uncle."

But Smedley could as soon have finished that verse as fly up the
chimney.  So the doctor's niece finished it for him, and then, with a
"Good-night, Mr Smedley; thank you very much for the song," she tripped
out of the room, leaving the hero to his fate.

It was not a very terrible fate after all.

"You and my niece have been having quite a concert," said the doctor.

"I hope I did not disturb you, sir.  Miss Violet was so kind as to play
some accompaniments for me while I was waiting for you."

"You want to see me.  What is it, Smedley?"

Smedley till this moment had forgotten the object of his delicate
mission, and now, suddenly recalled to business, felt less taste than
ever for his task.  Still he must go through with it.

"It was about Mr Railsford's house, sir."

"That, Smedley, is not a subject for discussion."

"I know, sir.  All I mean is that the whole school will suffer."

"That increases the responsibility of those who can rectify all by
owning their misconduct."

"Won't it be possible to make some exceptions, sir?  Our School sports
will go all to pieces without Ainger and Barnworth and some of their
fellows."

"You must see they do not go to pieces, Smedley," said the doctor; "it
would be unworthy of the school if they did.  As for Mr Railsford's
boys, I have said what I had to say to them, and have nothing more to
add."

"But Mr Railsford himself, sir," began the captain, desperately playing
his last card; "we hoped he--"

"It is a most unfortunate thing for everyone," said the doctor--"I
include myself and you and Mr Railsford.  We are called upon to make a
sacrifice, and there should be no question about our being willing, all
of us, to make it for the good of the school.  Good-night, Smedley,
good-night."

Smedley walked back, humming "Cherry Ripe" to himself, and feeling
decidedly depressed about things in general.

CHAPTER TEN.

ARTHUR PUTS TWO AND TWO TOGETHER.

Sir Digby Oakshott, of Oakshott Park, Baronet, was down on his luck.
His heart had been set on saving his house single-handed by a brilliant
discovery of the miscreants to whom it owed its present disgrace.

It had been a busy week for him.  He had had three or four fights a day
with outraged suspects, and had not invariably got the best of them.
Besides, in his devotion to the public service his private duties had
been neglected, and the pile of impositions had grown with compound
interest.  Worst of all, his own familiar friend had lifted up his heel
against him, and had openly gibed at his efforts.  This was "the most
unkindest cut of all," and Sir Digby felt it deeply.

"What's the use of going on fooling?" said Arthur, one evening, when the
tension was becoming acute.  "Why can't you shut up making an ass of
yourself?"

"Look here, Arthur, old man," said the baronet deprecatingly, "I don't
want to be jawed by you.  It's no business of yours."

"What I can't make out," pursued his friend sarcastically, "is why you
haven't tried to smell the chaps out by means of Smiley.  Now, if you
let Smiley have a good sniff of that bit of rope on your watch-chain,
and then turn him out into the square, he'd ferret them out for you."

"I tell you what, old man, if it's coming to a regular row between us
two, hadn't you better say so at once, and get done with it?"

"Who says anything about a row?  All I say is, you're in a precious good
way of getting yourself kicked round the house, the way you're going on;
and I don't much mind if I'm asked to lead off."

"You'd better try to kick me, that's all," said Dig.

"I'll see what I can do for you some day.  But, I say, Dig, can't you
see what a howling ass you're making of yourself?"

"No, I don't know so much about asses as you do," responded Dig.

"Daresay not.  If you were in the company of one all day long, as I am,
you'd soon throw it up.  I tell you, my--"

Here the speaker suddenly broke off and looked affectionately at the
troubled face of his old chum.

"Look here, Dig, old man, I don't want to have a row with you, no more
do you.  I vote we don't."

"Hang a row," said Dig.  "But it seems to me, Arthur, you don't care
twopence whether the chap's found out or not."

Arthur's face clouded over.

"Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't.  I don't see we're called upon to show
them up."

"But look what a mess the house is in till they're bowled out.  We'll
never get hold of a bat all the season."

"Jolly bad luck, I know, but we must lump it, Dig.  You must drop
fooling about with your clues.  Don't get in a wax, now.  I've got my
reasons."

"Whatever do you mean?  Do you know who it was, then?  Come in!  Who's
there?"

The intruder was the Baby Jukes, who carried half a dozen letters in his
hand, one of which he presented to the two chums.

"One for you," said he.  "They're all the same.  Wake gave Bateson and
me a penny a-piece for writing them out, and we knocked off twenty.  He
says he'd have sent you one a-piece, only he knows you've not two ideas
between you.  Catch hold."

And he departed, smiling sweetly, with his tongue in his cheek, just in
time to avoid a Caesar flung by the indignant baronet at his head.

"Those kids are getting a drop too much," said Dig.  "They've no more
respect for their betters than Smiley has.  What's this precious
letter?"

The letter was addressed to "Messrs. Herapath and Oakshott," and was
signed by Wake of the Fifth, although written in the inelegant hand of
Master Jukes the Baby.

"`Central Criminal Court, Grandcourt.  The assizes will open this
evening in the forum at 6.30 sharp.  You are hereby summoned on urgent
business.  Hereof fail not at your peril.'"

"What do that mean?" again inquired Dig.  "What right has Wake to
threaten us?"

"Don't you see, Wake, whose father is a pettifogging lawyer, is going to
get up a make-believe law court--I heard him talk about it last term--
instead of the regular debating evening.  The best of it is, we kids
shall all be in it, instead of getting stuck on the back bench to clap,
as we generally are."

"He's no business to tell us to fail not at our peril," growled Dig.
"What will they do?"

"Try somebody for murder, perhaps, or--why, of course!" exclaimed
Arthur, "they'll have somebody tried for that Bickers row!"

"By the way," said Dig, returning to the great question on his mind,
"you never told me if you really knew who did it."

Arthur's face clouded again.

"How should I know?" said he shortly.  "What's the use of talking about
it?"

There was something mysterious in Herapath's manner which disturbed his
friend.  It was bad enough not to be backed up in his own schemes, but
to feel that his chum knew something that he did not, was very hard on
Sir Digby.

Now he recalled it, Arthur had all along been somewhat reserved about
the business.  He had made sport of other fellows' theories, but he had
never disclosed his own.  Yet it was evident he had his own ideas on the
subject.  Was it come to this, that after all these terms of confidence
and alliance, a petty secret was to come between them and cloud the
hitherto peaceful horizon of their fellowship?

Digby, perhaps, did not exactly put the idea into these poetical words,
but the matter troubled him quite as much.

Now, it is my intention, at this place, generously to disclose to the
reader what was hidden from Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, and from
everyone else at Grandcourt--namely, that Arthur Herapath was fully
persuaded in his own mind that he knew the name of the arch offender in
the recent outrage, and was resolved through thick and thin to shield
him from detection.  He was perfectly aware that in so doing he made
himself an accessory after the fact, but that was a risk he was prepared
to run.  Only it decided him to keep his knowledge to himself.

Arthur was not a particularly sharp boy.  His qualities were chiefly of
the bull-dog order.  He did not take things in with the rapidity of some
fellows, but when he did get his teeth into a fact he held on like grim
death.  So it was now.  In the first excitement of the discovery he had
been as much at sea and as wild in his conjectures as anybody.  But
after a little he stumbled upon a piece of evidence which gave him a
serious turn, and had kept him serious ever since.

On the morning of the discovery, Arthur, being in the neighbourhood of
the "boot-box," thought he would have a look round.  There was no fear
of his mistaking the place; he had been there before, and seen Mr
Bickers come out of the sack.  Everything was pretty much as it had been
left.  The sack lay in the corner where it had been thrown, and the
cord, all except the piece which the baronet had secured, was there too.
On the dusty floor could clearly be perceived the place where Mr
Bickers had rolled about in his uncomfortable shackles during the night,
and on the ledge of the dim window which let light into the boot-box
from the lobby still stood the tumbler which Arthur himself had
officiously fetched an hour or two ago.

One or two things occurred to Arthur which had not previously struck
him.  One was that the door of the boot-box was a very narrow one, and,
closing-to by a spring, it would either have had to be held open or
propped open while Mr Bickers was being hauled in by his captors.  He
found that to hold it open wide he would have to get behind it and shut
himself up between it and the stairs.  Most likely, all hands being
required for securing the victim, the captors would have taken the
precaution to prop the door open by some means, so as to be ready for
their deep-laid and carefully prepared scheme.

So Arthur groped about and discovered a twisted-up wedge of paper,
which, by its battered look and peculiar shape, had evidently been stuck
at some time under the door to keep it from closing-to.  He quietly
pocketed this prize, on the chance of its being useful, and after
possessing himself of the sack and cord, and two wax vestas lying on the
floor, one of which had been lit and the other had not, he prepared to
quit the scene.  As he was going up-stairs he caught sight of one other
object--not, however, on the floor, but on the ledge of the cornice
above the door.  This was a match-box of the kind usually sold by street
arabs for a halfpenny.  Arthur tried to reach it, but could not get at
it even by jumping.

"The fellow who put that there must have been over six feet," said he to
himself.

With some trouble he got a stick and tipped the box off the ledge, and
as he did so it occurred to him that, whereas the dust lay a quarter of
an inch thick on the ledge, and whereas the match-box had no similar
coating of dust, but was almost clean, it must have been put up there
recently.  He opened the box and looked inside.  It contained wax
vestas, with curiously coloured purple heads, which on examination
corresponded exactly with the matches he had picked up on the floor of
the boot-box.

"Oh," said Arthur to himself, very red in the face, "here's a go!" and
he bolted up to his room.

Dig, as it happened, was out, not altogether to his chum's regret, who
set himself, with somewhat curious agitation, to examine his booty.

First of all he examined once more the match-box, and satisfied himself
that there was no doubt about the identity of its contents with the
stray vestas he had picked up.  The result was decisive.  The box had
been placed above the door very recently by someone who, unless he stood
on a form or climbed on somebody else's back, must have been more than
six feet high.  No one puts matches above doors by accident.  Whoever
put it there must have meant it--and more than that, must have opened it
and dropped one out inside the boot-box.

"Now," considered the astute Arthur, "it was pitch dark when Bickers was
collared; lights were out, and the fellows thought they'd have a glim
handy in case of need.  They struck one and spilt one, and shoved the
box up there, in case they should want it again.  I say! what a clever
chap I am!  The tall chap this box belongs to did the job, eh?"

An expert might possibly find a flaw in this clue, but Arthur was a
little proud of himself.

Next he spread out the sack and inspected the cord.  There was not much
to help him here, one would suppose, and yet Arthur, being once on a
good tack, thought it worth his while to look closely at these two
relics.

The sack was not the ordinary type of potato-sack which most people
associate with the term, but more like a large canvas pillow-case, such
as some article of furniture might be packed in, or which might be used
to envelop a small bath and its contents on a railway journey.  Arthur
perceived that it had been turned inside out, and took the trouble to
reverse it.  It was riddled with holes, some of them to admit the
running cords which had closed round the neck and elbows of the
unfortunate Mr Bickers, and some, notably that in the region of the
nose, made hastily, with the motive of giving the captive a little
ventilation.

Arthur could not help thinking, as he turned the sack outside in, that
it would have been nicer for Mr Bickers to have the comparatively clean
side of the canvas next to his face instead of the very grimy and
travel-stained surface which had fallen to his lot.

But these speculations gave place to other emotions as he discovered two
black initials painted on the canvas, and still legible under their
covering of dirt and grease.  There was no mistaking them, and Arthur
gave vent to a whistle of consternation as he deciphered an "M.R."

Now, as Arthur and everybody else knows, "M.R." _may_ mean Midland
Railway, but the Midland Railway is not six feet two inches, and does
not carry wax vestas about him, or drop them on the floor of the boot-
box.

Arthur gaped at those initials for fully three minutes, and then
hurriedly hid the sack away in the cupboard.

He had still one more point to clear up.  He pulled the wedge of paper
out of his pocket and began nervously to unroll it.  It was frayed and
black where the door had ground it against the floor; but, on beginning
to open it, it turned out to be a portion of a torn newspaper.  It was a
_Standard_ of February 4--two days ago--and Arthur whistled again and
turned pale as he saw a stamp and a postmark on the front page, and read
a fragment of the address--"...ford, Esquire, Grandcourt."

"That settles it clean!" he muttered to himself.  "I say! who'd have
thought it!"

Then he sat down and went over the incidents of the last twenty-four
hours.

Last night--it is sad to have to record it--Arthur had been out in the
big square at half-past nine, when he should have been in bed.  He had
been over to find a ball which he had lost during the morning while
playing catch with Dig out of the window.  On his way back--he
remembered it now--he had had rather a perilous time.  First of all he
had nearly run into the arms of Branscombe, the captain of Bickers's
house, who was inconveniently prowling about at the time, probably in
search of some truant of his own house.  Then in doubling to avoid this
danger he had dimly sighted Mr Bickers himself, taking a starlight walk
on Railsford's side of the square.  Finally, in his last bolt home, he
had encountered Railsford stalking moodily under the shadow of his own
house, and too preoccupied to notice, still less to challenge, the
truant.

All this Arthur remembered now, and, carrying his mind a day or two
further back, he recalled Mr Bickers's uninvited visit to the house--
Arthur had painful cause to remember it--and Railsford's evident
resentment of the intrusion, and the threatenings of slaughter which had
been bandied about between the two houses ever since.

"Why," said Arthur to himself, "it's as clear as a pikestaff.  I see it
all now.  Bickers said it was about a quarter to ten when he was
collared.  No fellows would be about then, and certainly no one would
know that he would be passing our door, except Marky.  Marky must have
been actually hanging about for him when I passed!  What a pity I didn't
stop to see the fun!  Yes, he'd got his sack ready, and had jammed the
door open with this paper, and got his matches handy.  Bickers would
never see him till he came close up, and then Marky would have the sack
on in two twos before he could halloa.  My eye!  I would never have
believed it of Marky.  Served Bickers right, of course, and it'll be a
lesson to him; but it'll be hot for Marky if he's found out.  Bickers
says there may have been more than one fellow on the job, but I don't
fancy it.  If Mark had had anybody, he'd have got me to help him,
because it would be all in the family, and I'd be bound to keep it dark.
Wouldn't he turn green if he knew I'd twigged him!  Anyhow, I'll keep
it as close as putty now, and help him worry through.  Very knowing of
him to go with a candle and let him out this morning, and look so struck
all of a heap.  He took me in regularly."

Arthur said this to himself in a tone which implied that if Mark had
been able to take _him_ in, it was little to be wondered at that all the
rest of the house had been hoodwinked.

"Hard luck," thought he condescendingly.  "I daren't tell Dig.  He's
such a gossip, it would be all over the place in a day.  Wonder if I'd
best let Marky know I've spotted him?  Think not.  He wouldn't like it,
and as long as he's civil I'll back him up for Daisy's sake."

Then, having stumbled on to the thought of home, it occurred to him that
since the opening day, when he had sent a postcard to announce his
arrival, he had not yet troubled his relatives with a letter this term.
It was a chance, while he was in the humour, to polish them off now; so
he took up his pen, and thus discoursed to his indulgent sister:--

"Dear Da,--Mark's all right so far.  He doesn't hit it with a lot of the
chaps, and now and then we hate him, but he lets Dig and me alone, and
doesn't interfere with Smiley.  I hope you and he keep it up, because it
would make me look rather foolish if it was all off, especially as
Dimsdale and one or two of the chaps happen to have heard about it, and
have bets on that it won't last over the summer holidays.

"I'm getting on very well, and working hard at French.  _Je suis allant
a commencer translater une chose par Moliere le prochain term si je suis
bon_.  There's a howling row on in the house just now.  Bickers got
nobbled and sacked the other night, and shoved in the boot-box, and
nobody knows who did it.  I've a notion, but I'm bound to keep it dark
for the sake of a mutual friend.  It would be as rough as you like for
him if it came out.  But I believe in _assistant un boiteux chien au
travers de la stile_; so I'm keeping it all dark.  Ponsford has been
down on us like a sack of coals.  They've shoved forward our dinner-hour
to one o'clock, so we're regularly dished over the sports, especially as
Saturday afternoon has been changed into morning.  The house will go to
the dogs now, _mais que est les odds si longtemps que vous etes
heureuses_?  Dig sends his love.  He and I remember the loved ones at
home, and try to be good.  By the way, do you think pater could go
another five bob?  I'm awfully hard up, my dear Daisy, and should
greatly like not to get into evil ways and borrow from Dig.  Can you
spare me a photograph to stick up on the mantelpiece to remind me of you
always?  You needn't send a cabinet one, because they cost too much.
I'd sooner have a _carte-de-visite_ and the rest in stamps, if you don't
mind.  I'm doing my best to give Marky a leg-up.  I could get him into a
row and a half if I liked, but for your sake I'm keeping it all dark.  I
hope you'll come down soon.  It will be an awful game if you do, and
I'll promise to keep the fellows from grinning.  _Maintenant, il faut
que je close haut.  Donnez mon amour a mere et pere, et esperant que
vous etes tout droit, souvenez me votre aimant frere_, Arthur Herapath.
_Dig envoie son amour a tous_."

Daisy might have been still more affected by this brotherly effusion
than she was, had not she received a letter by the same post from Mark
himself, telling her of his later troubles, and containing a somewhat
more explicit narrative of recent events than had been afforded in the
letter of his prospective brother-in-law.

"I am, I confess, almost at a loss," said he.  "I do not like to believe
that anyone in the house can have the meanness to involve us all in this
misfortune by his own guilty silence. ...  Much depends now on the
spirit which my prefects show.  I believe, myself, that if they take a
proper view of the situation, we may weather the storm.  But the new
order of things hits them harder than anyone else, for it excludes them
from football, cricket, and the sports; and I fear it is too much to
expect that they will even try to make the best of it!  I begin to feel
that a master, after all, if he is to do any good, must be a sort of
head boy himself, and I would be thankful if my seniors let me into
their confidence, and we were not always dealing with one another at
arm's length.  All this, I fear, is uninteresting to you; but it means a
good deal to me.  The flighty Arthur does not appear to be much cast
down by our troubles.  I wish I could help him to a little of the
ballast he so greatly needs.  But, although I am the master of this
house, I seem scarcely ever to see him.  I hear him, though.  I hear him
this minute.  He and his chum occupy the room over me, and when they
execute a war dance--which occurs on an average six times a day--it
makes me tremble for my ceiling.  I have a notion Arthur spends his
weekly allowance rather recklessly, and am thinking of suggesting to
your father that a reduction might be judicious," etcetera, etcetera.

Had Railsford guessed, as he wrote these rather despondent lines, that
his youthful kinsman in the room above was hugging himself for his own
astuteness in tracking out his (Railsford's) villainy, he might perhaps
have regarded the situation of affairs as still less cheerful.  As it
was, after the first discovery, the hope had begun to dawn upon the
Master of the Shell, as it had already dawned on Barnworth, that some
good might even result from the present misfortunes of the house.  And
as the days passed, he became still more confirmed in the hope, and,
with his usual sanguine temper, thought he could see already Railsford's
house starting on a new career and turning its troubles to credit.

Alas!  Mark Railsford had rough waters still to pass through.  And the
house, before it was to start on its new career, had several little
affairs to wind up and dispose of.

Among others, the Central Criminal Court Assizes were coming on, and the
boys were summoned, "at their peril," not to fail in appearing on the
occasion.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A "CAUSE CELEBRE."

Wake, of the Fifth, was one of those restless, vivacious spirits who,
with no spare time on their hands, contrive to accomplish as much as any
ordinary half-dozen people put together.  He formed part of the much-
despised band of fellows in his form contemptuously termed "muggers."
In other words, he read hard, and took no part in the desultory
amusements which consumed the odd moments of so many in the house.  And
yet he was an excellent cricketer and runner, as the school was bound to
acknowledge whenever it called out its champions to do battle for it in
the playing-fields.

More than that, if anyone wanted anything doing in the way of literary
sport--in the concoction of a squib or the sketching of a caricature--
Wake was always ready to take the work upon himself, and let who liked
take the credit.  He had a mania for verses and epigrams; he was reputed
a bit of a conjuror, and no one ever brought a new puzzle to Grandcourt
which Wake, of Railsford's, could not, sooner or later, find out.

Among other occupations, Wake had for some time past acted as secretary
for the House Discussion Society--an old institution which for years had
droned along to the well-known tunes--"That Wellington was a greater man
than Napoleon," "That Shakespeare was a greater poet than Homer," "That
women's rights are not desirable," "That the execution of Charles the
First was unjustifiable," etcetera, etcetera.  But when, six months ago,
Trill, of the Sixth, the old secretary, left Grandcourt, and Wake, at
the solicitation of the prefects (who lacked the energy to undertake the
work themselves), consented to act as secretary, the society entered
upon a new career.  The new secretary alarmed his patrons by his
versatility and energy.  The old humdrum questions vanished almost
completely from the programme, and were replaced by such interesting
conundrums as "Is life worth living?"  "Ought the _Daily News_ to be
taken in at the school library?"  "What is a lie?" and so on.  Beyond
that, he boldly appropriated evenings for other purposes than the
traditional debate.  On one occasion he organised a highly successful
reading of _Coriolanus_, in which the juniors, to their vast delight,
were admitted to shout as citizens.  Another evening was given to
impromptu speeches, every member who volunteered being called upon to
draw a subject out of a hat and make a speech upon it there and then.
And more than once the order of the day was readings and recitations, in
which the younger members were specially encouraged to take part, and
stood up gallantly to be shot at by their critical seniors.

Whatever might be said of this novel departure from old tradition, no
one could deny that the Discussion Society had looked up wonderfully
during the last six months.  The forum was generally crowded, and
everyone, from prefect to Baby, took more or less interest in the
proceedings.  No one, after the first few meetings, questioned Wake's
liberty to arrange what programme he liked, and the house was generally
kept in a pleasant flutter of curiosity as to what the volatile
secretary would be up to next.

The "Central Criminal Court" was his latest invention, and it need
scarcely be said the idea, at the present juncture, was so startling
that a quarter of an hour before the hour of meeting the forum was
packed to its fullest extent, and it was even rumoured that Mr
Railsford had promised to look in during the evening.  It was evident
directly to the juniors that the proceedings had been carefully thought
out and settled by the secretary, in consultation with some of the wise
heads of the house.  The room was arranged in close imitation of a court
of justice.  The bench was a chair raised on two forms at one end; the
witness-box and the dock were raised spaces railed off by cord from the
rest of the court.  Rows of desks represented the seats of the counsel,
and two long forms, slightly elevated above the level of the floor, were
reserved for the accommodation of the jury.  The general public and
witnesses-in-waiting were relegated to the rear of the court.

The question was, as everyone entered, Who is who?  Who is to be the
judge, and who is to be the prisoner, and who are to be the counsel?
This natural inquiry was answered after the usual style of the
enterprising secretary.  Every one on entering was asked to draw out of
a hat a folded slip of paper, which assigned to him the part he was to
play, the only parts reserved from the lot being that of judge, which of
course was to be filled by Ainger, and that of senior counsels for the
prosecution and defence, which were undertaken respectively by Barnworth
and Felgate.  It was suspected later on that a few of the other parts
were also prearranged, but no one could be quite sure of this.

"What are you?" said Dig, pulling a long face over his piece of paper.

"I'm junior counsel for the defence," said Arthur proudly.  "What are
you?"

"A wretched witness," said the baronet.

"What a spree!  Won't I pull you inside out when I get you in the box,
my boy!"

There was a call for order, and Ainger, mounting the bench, said,--

"This is quite an experiment, you fellows.  It may be a failure, or it
may go off all right.  It depends on how we do our best.  The idea is
that a prisoner is to be tried for murder (delight among the juniors).
Barnworth, who is the counsel for the prosecution, has prepared the
story, and Felgate has been told what the line to be taken against the
prisoner is, so that he might prepare his defence.  These are the only
two who know exactly what they are to do beforehand.  All the rest will
have to act according to the papers they have drawn.  Who has drawn
prisoner?"

Amid much laughter Stafford blushingly owned the soft impeachment, and
was called upon to enter the dock, which he did, looking rather
uncomfortable, and as if he half repented his consent to take a part in
the proceedings.

"Now," proceeded Ainger, consulting a paper, "the twelve jurymen are to
go into the box there."

The twelve boys with "Jury" on their papers obeyed.  They were a motley
crew, some being Fifth-form boys, some Shell-fish, and some Babies.  And
by the odd irony of fate, the one who had drawn the "foreman's" ticket
was Jukes, the Baby.

"Now the witnesses go to the back seats there.  You'll find on each the
name you will be called by, and a short note of what your evidence is to
be.  You will have to listen very carefully to Barnworth's story, so as
to know exactly what it's all about."

There was a laugh at this.  Some thought it a trifle queer that
witnesses should have to learn what their evidence was to be from notes
given them in court and from counsel's speech.  But they were young, and
did not know much of law courts.

"Of course you must not show one another your notes," said Ainger; "that
would spoil all."

"Ta-ta," said the baronet rather dismally to his chum; "they call me
Tomkins!"

"The junior counsel for the prosecution, of course, are to sit behind
Barnworth, and for the defence behind Felgate.  You must listen
carefully, as you may have to help in the cross-examination.  The rest
of the public go to the back; and now we are ready to begin.  Usher,
call silence in the court."

Tilbury, whose proud office it was to act in this capacity, shouted,
"Order, there! shut up!" in a loud voice.

Wake, who acted as clerk, read out the name of the case, "Regina
_versus_ Bolts."  The jury answered to their names and promised to bring
in a true verdict.  The prisoner was called upon to plead guilty or not
guilty, and answered, "Not guilty"; and then Barnworth rose and opened
the case for the prosecution.

"My lord, and gentlemen of the jury," he began; "the prisoner at the bar
is charged with the wilful murder of John Smith, on the night of
Tuesday, February 4."

This was interesting, for Tuesday, February 4, was the date of the
Bickers affair.

"I shall, as briefly as possible, narrate the circumstances of this
unfortunate affair.  The prisoner, Thomas Bolts, is a workman in the
employ of a large firm of engineers in this neighbourhood, in which the
murdered man was also engaged as a foreman and overseer.  It is
unnecessary, gentlemen of the jury, to explain to you that the works in
question are divided into several distinct departments, or shops.  I
need not describe them all, but two of them were the screw department
and the boiler department.  Smith was foreman and overseer of the screw
department, while the prisoner was one of the skilled workmen in the
boiler department.  For some time past ill-feeling had existed between
the men of the boiler department and the deceased on account of his
interference with them; and this ill-feeling appears to have culminated
a few days before the murder, on account of an intrusion made by Smith
into the boiler department, and the alleged assault of one of the men
there employed."

Every one saw now what was coming, and pricked up his ears in
anticipation.  Ainger, who had had as little idea of the turn things
were going to take as anybody else, grew fidgety, and wished Wake had
shown more discretion.  But it was too late to stop the case now.

"This assault occurred, I believe, on the 2nd of February."

"No, the 3rd--the day before," whispered Ranger, who acted as junior
counsel for the prosecution.

"I am obliged to my learned friend for correcting me.  This occurred on
the 3rd, the day before the murder.  Now, gentlemen of the jury, I ask
your attention to the occurrences which followed.  At the time of the
assault the prisoner, in the absence of the head foreman, was acting as
overseer of his shop, and witnesses will prove that he protested against
the behaviour of the deceased, and was in consequence insulted by Smith.
I mention this to show that a personal grudge existed between the two
men."

Stafford, whose _role_ as prisoner may or may not have been the result
of mere accident, began not to like the turn things were taking.

"On the 4th everything went well till the evening, although, it is
stated, a formal complaint of Smith's interference was made through the
regular, foreman of the boiler-shop, as will appear in evidence.  In the
evening of that day--that is, about eight o'clock--a meeting of the
heads of the various departments was held in a distant part of the
works, which was attended by Smith as well as the other foremen.  The
meeting lasted till 9.30, and Smith was last seen proceeding to his own
quarters, in the neighbourhood of the boiler-shop.

"On the morning of the 5th, a workman named Simple, on entering the
coal-cellar under the stairs of the boiler-shed, stumbled against a
human body, and being frightened, gave an alarm.  The foreman of the
boiler department, accompanied by the prisoner and one or two other men,
proceeded to the spot, and found the body of the deceased lying on the
floor among the coals, enveloped in a sack, and bound hand and foot.  He
was alive at the time, and on being released stated that on passing the
door of the boiler-shed, on the previous evening, he had been seized
from behind by some person unknown, and after being bound in the sack
had been dragged into the cellar and shut up there for the night.  He
was much exhausted when found, and on the evening of the 5th succumbed
to the injuries he had received."

Some of the juniors breathed again.  It was _very_ like the story of Mr
Bickers, only Mr Bickers was alive and kicking still.  It was much more
satisfactory for the present purposes to have the fellow out of the way.

"Now, gentlemen of the jury," proceeded Barnworth, putting his hands in
his pockets and addressing himself particularly to Jukes, the Baby, "I
ask your particular attention to a few facts.  At the time of the murder
the prisoner, who is usually working in his own shop, was observed to be
absent, and no satisfactory account can be given of his whereabouts.
Further than that, a witness will prove to you that after the quarrel on
the previous day he was heard to say that he would pay the deceased out.
It will also be proved that on the same afternoon he procured several
yards of cord from a neighbouring shop, which the maker will identify as
very like the cord used for binding the murdered man.  Finally, on an
inquiry made by the head of the firm, on a question being put to each
man in the boiler department in succession, it was observed that the
accused gave his replies with evident confusion and alarm.  For these
reasons, gentlemen of the jury, and others which will come out in
evidence, I shall ask you by your verdict to find the prisoner guilty of
the wilful murder of John Smith."

This seemed a very strong case, and one or two of the jury rather
wondered that the judge did not at once direct them to bring in a
verdict of "Guilty."  However, as it appeared to be the usual thing to
hear evidence, they waited.

The first witness called was Job Walker, and, in response to the call,
Blyth of the Fifth stepped into the box.

His evidence related to the feud between the murdered, man and the men
in the boiler-shop; and he gave an account of the intrusion of Smith on
the night of the 3rd and of the quarrel which ensued.  Blyth, in fact,
related what had happened in the common room at Railsford's that
evening, only changing names and places in accordance with Barnworth's
story.

When his examination in chief was concluded, Felgate rose and said,--

"I have one or two questions to ask you, Mr Job Walker.  You say you
were in the boiler-shop during the whole of the evening in question.
Where was the proper foreman of the shop at the time?"

"He was out."

"Was work going on as usual in his absence?"

"Pretty much."

"What do you mean by pretty much?  Were _you_ working yourself?"

Great delight of the juniors, for Blyth had been one of the chief
rioters.

"Well," said he, "perhaps I was a little slack."  (Laughter.)

"Who was in charge of the shop at the time?"

"The prisoner and another workman called Flounders."

"And pray were they `slack,' too, as you call it?"

"Yes--they were no good at all."  (Laughter.)

"Were you present when the proper foreman returned?"

"Yes, I was."

"Did he say anything to the prisoner?"

"He seemed in a great rage."

"Did they come to blows?"

"No--but I shouldn't have been surprised if they had."

"That will do, Mr Job Walker."

Barnworth asked another question before Mr Walker stepped down.

"Did you notice what took place between the prisoner and the deceased?"

"Yes.  The deceased, when he came in, told the prisoner he was no good,
and sent him to his place and took charge of the shop.  The prisoner was
very angry, and said he would like to pay Smith out."

The general opinion was that Blyth had acquitted himself well, and he
was cheered by the public as he stood down.

Timothy Simple was next called, and Simson, rather pale and scared-
looking, answered to the name.

The examination of this witness was left to Ranger, who got him to
narrate the circumstances of his finding the body of the "deceased" on
the morning of the 5th.  The unfortunate youth seemed to forget that the
trial was a mock one, and coloured up and stammered and corrected
himself, as if the life of a fellow-being actually depended on his
evidence.

Felgate, after a hurried communication from his junior, only asked a
very few questions in cross-examination.

"Did you observe if the body was lying with its head to the door or its
feet?"

"I really couldn't say.  It was so dark, and I was so horrified."

"Was the key of the cellar always on the outside of the door?"

"Yes, generally; it must have been, because I locked it behind me when I
ran out."

"Who would be the last person at night to go to the cellar?  Would the
foreman go round and lock up?"

"I don't know; I suppose so."

"You wouldn't swear that the foreman did not usually keep the key at
night in his own room?"

"No--that is, yes.  Do you mean I wouldn't swear he did, or didn't?"

"You would not swear he did not keep it?"

"I don't know."

"But you wouldn't swear he didn't?"

"I couldn't, because if I don't know--"

"If you don't know you couldn't swear he didn't do it.  Come, tell the
jury, Yes, or No, Mr Simple; it is an important question."

Simson looked up and down.  Half a dozen friends were winking at him
suggestively from different parts of the court, and he couldn't make out
their meaning.  At length he perceived Munger nodding his head, and as
Munger had lent him a crib to Ovid the day before, he decided to refer
to him.

"Yes," he said.

"I thought so," said Felgate.  "Why could you not say that before, Mr
Simple?"

And Simson descended from his perch amid laughter and jeers, not quite
sure whether he had not committed a crime beside which the offence of
the prisoner at the bar was a trifle.

"Call William Tomkins," said Barnworth.

William Tomkins was called, and Dig, with his tawny mane more than
usually dishevelled, and an excited look on his face, entered the box.
He glared round him defiantly, and then dug his hands into his pockets
and waited for his questions.

"Your name is William Tomkins?" began Barnworth.

"Sir William Tomkins, Baronet," said the witness, amidst laughter.

"To be sure, I beg your pardon, Sir William.  And what are you, pray?"

"A baronet."  (Loud laughter.)

"A baronet in reduced circumstances, I fear.  You work in the boiler
department of this factory?"

"All right, go on."

Here the judge interposed.

"The witness must remember that he is bound to answer questions
properly.  Unless he does so I shall order him to be removed."

This somewhat damped the defiant tone of Digby, and he answered the
further questions of counsel rather more amiably.  These had reference
to the discovery of the body on the morning of the 5th, with the details
of which the reader is already acquainted.  The public began to get a
little tired of this constant repetition of the same story, and were
about to vote the proceedings generally slow, when a double event served
to rouse their flagging attention.

Mr Railsford entered the court as a spectator, and was accommodated
with a seat on the bench, beside the judge.  At the same moment,
Barnworth, having ended his questions, Arthur Herapath, junior counsel
for the defence, rose to his feet, and said,--

"Now, Sir William Tomkins, Baronet, have the goodness to look at me and
answer a few questions.  I would advise you to be careful."

The baronet replied by putting his tongue in his cheek, and giving a
pantomimic wave of his fist in the direction of the learned counsel.

"Now, Sir William Tomkins, Baronet, how old are you, my lad?"

"Find out," said Sir William hotly.

"That's what I mean to do.  Answer me, sir, or I'll get the beak to run
you in for contempt of court."

"Come and do it," said the witness, red in the face.

Here the judge again interposed.

"The learned junior must confine himself to the case before us, or I
shall have to ask Mr Felgate to conduct the cross-examination."

"All serene, my lord," rejoined the learned junior, who was thoroughly
enjoying himself.  "Of course, if your lordship think the question's not
important I won't press it against your lordship's desire.  I'm obliged
to your lordship for your lordship's advice, and I'll pull your nose,
Dimsdale"--this was in a parenthesis--"if you don't shut up.  Now, Sir
William Tomkins, Baronet, you say you saw the prisoner pulled out of the
sack?"

"I never said anything of the sort."

"My lord, I must ask your lordship to commit this man for perjury.  He's
telling crackers."

"I think he said he saw the murdered man pulled out of the sack," said
the judge.

"That's what I said.  How came you to say you didn't, eh, sir?  Didn't I
tell you to be careful or you'd get your hair combed a way you don't
fancy?  Now, what I want to know is, what's the width of the door of the
cellar?"

"Look here," said the witness, "if you want to make an ass of yourself
you'd better shut up.  What's that got to do with it?"

"It's quite a proper question," said the judge.

"There you are!" said Arthur, delighted.  "I'm obliged to your lordship
for your lordship's remarks.  Now, Sir William Thingamy, what do you
mean, sir, by refusing to answer the question?  I've a good mind to ask
his lordship to send you to penal servitude.  Now, what about the door?"

"I don't know anything about it, and I don't care."

"Ha! ha!  You'll _have_ to care, my boy.  Could two chaps go through it
together?"

"Come and try," said the baronet, snorting with wrath.

"You must answer the question, witness," said the judge.

"No; _he_ knows two chaps couldn't.  He measured it himself and found it
was only twenty-eight inches wide."

"Who measured it?" asked one of the jury.

"Why, Herapath, that idiot there."

Arthur was somewhat sobered by this piece of evidence, as well as by a
significant consultation on the bench, which he rather feared might
relate to his conduct of the case.

"That's what I wanted to get at," said he.  "Now, Sir William, what's
the _height_ of that door, eh?"

"What's the good of asking me when you measured it yourself, you duffer?
Didn't you tell me yourself it was seven feet two to the top of the
ledge?"

"There you are!  Keep your hair on!  That's what I wanted!  Seven foot
two.  Now suppose you were told a box of wax lights was found stuck upon
that ledge, and that two of the matches out of it were found on the
floor of the boot-box--cellar, I mean--what should you think?"

"It is hardly evidence, is it, to ask a witness what he would think?"
suggested Barnworth.

"Oh, isn't it?  Easy a bit, and you'll see what we're driving at, your
lordship!  I'll trouble your lordship to ask the learned chap not to put
me off my run.  Come, Mr What's-your-name, what should you think?"

Dig mused a bit, and then replied, "I should think it was a little
queer."

"Of course you would!  So it _is_ a little queer," said Arthur, winking
knowingly at his future brother-in-law.  "Now, could _you_ reach up to
the top of that ledge, my little man?"

"You be blowed!" responded the baronet, who resented this style of
address.

"That means you couldn't.  When you're about four feet higher than you
are you'll be able to do it.  Now could the prisoner reach up to it?"

"No, no more could you, with your boots and three-and-sixpenny Sunday
tile on!"

"Order in the court!  Really, your lordship, your lordship ought to sit
on this chap.  Perhaps your lordship's friend on your lordship's right
would kindly give him a hundred lines when next he comes across him.
Now, Mr Baron, and Squire, and Knight of the Shire, and all the rest of
it, I want to know if there's any chap in our house--I mean the boiler-
shop--could reach up there?  Mind your eye, now!"

"Ainger could by jumping."

"I didn't ask you anything about jumping, you duffer!  How tall would a
chap need to be to reach up there?"

"About double your measure--over six foot."

"There you are!  Now is there any chap in our boiler-shop over six
feet?"

"No."

"I knew you'd say that.  Think again.  What about the foreman?" and he
gave a side inclination of his head towards the unconscious Railsford.

"Oh, him!  Yes, _he's_ over six foot."

"Go down two places, for saying _him_ instead of _he_.  There you are,
my lord, we've got it at last.  Bowled the chap out clean, first ball.
That's our case, only there's plenty more to be got out first.  We'll
trouble your lordship to bring the chap in not guilty, when it's all
done."  And he nodded knowingly to the jury.

Railsford had sat and listened to all this in a state of the completest
mystification.  Not having heard Barnworth's opening statement, he had
no glimmer of a suspicion that the _cause celebre_ occupying the
attention of this august assembly was anything but a pleasant fiction
from beginning to end, and he had been wondering to himself whether such
performances, conducted in the irregular style which he had witnessed,
could be of any good.  However, coming as a guest (for the master of the
house was always a visitor on such occasions), he deemed it best not to
interfere just then.  He would give Arthur a little friendly advice as
to the conduct of a junior counsel later on.

But he was the only unconscious person in the court.  The listeners had
been quick to pick up the drift of Barnworth's opening story, and
equally quick to detect the line of defence taken up by Felgate and his
vivacious junior.  They kept their eyes fixed most of the time on
Railsford, to note how he took it; and when Arthur reached his
triumphant climax, some among the juniors fully expected to see their
master fall on his knees and plead guilty before the whole court.

Instead of that he laughed, and, turning to the judge, said, in an
audible voice,--

"This seems very amusing, but it's all Hebrew to me.  Is this the end?"

"I think we've had nearly enough for to-night," said Ainger, who himself
felt rather uneasy lest matters should go any further.  Not that he laid
any stress on Arthur's wonderful discovery--that merely amused him; but
he foresaw a danger of the tone of the proceedings becoming offensive,
and considered it better to interpose while yet there was time.

"Gentlemen," he said, "as far as the case has gone I think I may say it
has been ably conducted and patiently listened to.  As our time is
nearly up I adjourn the hearing till a future occasion."

"Jolly hard luck," said Arthur to his senior.  "I'd got plenty more to
come out."

"You've done quite enough for one evening," said Felgate, grinning, "the
rest will keep."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET.

Arthur's great hit at the Central Criminal Court was the topic in the
junior circles at Railsford's for some days.  It was hardly to be
expected that Sir Digby Oakshott would share in the general admiration
which fell to his friend's lot.  That young baronet had a painful sense
of having come off second best at the trial, and the relations between
the friends became considerably strained in consequence.  What made it
harder for Dig was that Arthur had suddenly gained quite a prestige
among the lower boys of the house, who, without being too curious,
arrived at the conclusion that he knew a thing or two about Railsford in
connection with the row about Bickers, and was keeping it dark.

Strangely enough, from the same cause, Railsford himself leapt into
sudden popularity with his juniors.  For if he, argued they, was the man
who paid out Bickers for them, then, although it put them to a little
inconvenience, they were resolved as one man to back their hero up, and
cover his retreat to the best of their ability.  The master himself was
considerably surprised at the sudden outburst of affection towards
himself.  He hoped it meant that his influence was beginning to tell
home on the minds of his youthful charges; and he wrote cheerfully to
Daisy about it, and said he had scarcely hoped in so short a time to
have made so many friends among his boys.

"Tell you what," said Arthur one evening, after discussing the virtues
of his future kinsman with some of the Shell, "it wouldn't be a bad
dodge to get up a testimonial for Marky.  I know a stunning dodge for
raising the wind."

"Good idea," said Tilbury, "I'm game."

"Let's give it him soon, to get him in a good-humour, next week,"
suggested someone.

"No, we'd better do it just before the Easter holidays," replied Arthur;
"that'll start him well for next term."

That evening the differences between the two friends were patched up.
Dig, under a pledge of secrecy, was initiated into the whole mystery of
the sack, and the wedge of paper, and the wax vestas, promising on his
part to respect his friend's reputation in the matter of the "fifty-six
billion Snowball."

The baronet was fully impressed with the importance of his friend's
disclosures.

"It's a regular case," said he.  "I never thought it of him.  We must
keep it dark and give him a leg out."

"I fancy so," said Arthur.  "It's a sort of family affair, you see.
It's half a pity he can't know that we've bowled him out and are
sticking to him.  But I suppose it's best not to let him suspect it."

"No--better keep it all dark.  He'll know all about it some day."

And the two confederates went to bed happy that night, in the
consciousness that they were restored to one another's confidence, and
that they were standing between their miscreant "kinsman" and the
punishment which properly belonged to his crime.  On the following
morning a notice appeared on the common room door, signed by Ainger,
summoning the house to meet after tea on particular business.  The
important business had no connection with the _affaire Bickers_, but was
the captain's first move towards pulling up the house to the proud
position he designed for it.

"Now, you fellows," said he, in the course of a short spirited speech,
"I needn't tell you that our house is down on its luck this term.
(Cheers.)  We are in the black books of the doctor, as you know--and we
can't well help it.  Somebody in the house thinks fit to tell a lie, and
gets us all into trouble; but we aren't going down on our knees to that
person or any other sneak to help us when we mean to help ourselves.
(Loud cheers.)  Now this is one way I propose we help ourselves.  We
are, you all know, cut out of the sports, and school cricket, and all
that sort of thing.  (Shame!)  Very well; but they can't prevent our
getting up house sports of our own, and a house eleven, and showing that
we aren't going to be put down.  (Applause.)  I mean to train hard
myself, and run the mile if I can in quicker time than Smedley or anyone
else in the School sports; and unless I'm mistaken Barnworth means to
show that Railsford's house can jump an inch higher than any other house
at Grandcourt, even though we don't get a prize for it (tremendous
cheers); and I am not so sure if Wake doesn't press their second man
pretty close.  (Bravo, Wake!)  You youngsters will have to do your
share.  We want a Railsford's fellow to lick the time of every event in
the School sports.  (Loud cheers.)  We may not be able to do it in all;
but we'll know the reason why, if we don't.  (So we will!)  You'll have
to sit up, some of you, if you're going to do it.  But of course you'll
do that.  (Rather!)  Railsford's sports will be held this day three
weeks--just a week after the School sports.  So we shall know what we've
got to beat.  That's one thing I've got to say.  Every boy here should
enter for some event or other, and see he wins it.  (Applause.)  The
next thing is this.  Cricket is coming on; it begins the Saturday after
the sports.  We aren't going to be done out of our cricket to please
anybody!  (Tremendous enthusiasm and waving of caps.)  We intend to turn
out as stiff a house eleven as ever played in the fields, and some fine
day you fellows will see Railsford's play the School and win.
(Applause.)  Yes, and we'll have a second eleven, too.  (Rather! from
the juniors.)  Mr Railsford is going to back us up.  (Cheers.)  He
played in his college eleven at Cambridge, and he's promised to give up
all his Saturdays to the end of the term to coach us.  (Three cheers for
Railsford.)  Now the last thing--"

"Whatever else can there be?" said the baronet, in a perspiration of
fervour.

"Some of you may open your eyes when I mention it, but I know you won't
funk it.  We mean to get hold of all the School prizes at Grandcourt
this term, if we can.  (Sensation.)  Yes, you may gape, but it's a fact!
Of course, I can't beat Smedley for the gold medal.  (Yes, have a try!)
Rather!  I mean to try; and Smedley will have to put on steam.  (Loud
cheers.)  Then Stafford is going to cut out Branscombe--(Boo-hoo!)--for
the Melton Scholarship, and Barnworth will get the vacant Cavendish
Scholarship, and Wake and Ranger and Sherriff and Wignet are going to
walk off with all the Fifth-form prizes; and Herapath will pull off the
Swift Exhibition, and Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet.--(tremendous
cheers)--will win the Shell History medal."

"I say!" said the baronet, mopping his face vehemently; "that's the
first I've heard about that!"

"Yes, and our Babies are going to show the way, too!" continued the
captain; "and on prize-day we'll crowd up and cheer them when they
toddle up to take their prizes.  (Laughter and cheers.)  That's all I
want to say.  (Laughter and applause.)  Some of you will say I'm
cracked.  (No!)  I'm not!  Railsford's is going in and going to win, and
if you all back up--(So we will I)--we shall do it easily.  (Cheers.)
Don't let us brag too much.  The school will find out what we are up to
soon enough without our blowing trumpets.  Oh, there's one thing more,"
continued the captain--"positively the last--(laughter)--about this row
we're all in.  It was a caddish thing, whoever did it, to maul a man
about in the dark when he couldn't defend himself--(cheers)--and a low
thing, whoever did it, to tell a lie about it.  (Cheers.)  But my advice
is, let the beggar alone.  He's an enemy to our house, but we aren't
going to make ourselves miserable on his account.  Let him alone.  Don't
go poking and sniffing about to try to smell him out.  (Arthur blushed
violently here.)  Think of something better.  In spite of him we're
going to make Railsford's the cock house at Grandcourt!  That will be
the best way to pay him out, and it will take us all our time to do it,
without dirtying our fingers over him."

Ainger concluded amidst a burst of cheers which quite took him aback,
and the meeting dispersed enthusiastically to talk over the wonderful
programme, and take the first steps towards carrying it out.

The captain's words came upon most of the fellows as a surprise that
there could be any other way out of their present misfortunes than by
submitting to them tamely and giving up the glory of their house as a
bad job.  The audacious proposal first took their breath away, and then
took possession of them.  They would have their revenge; and here was a
way open to them.  It scarcely occurred to any but the experienced
seniors that there would be any difficulty in making Ainger's bold
predictions true.  Arthur for instance, having heard it publicly
announced that he was about to win the Swift Exhibition, thought and
behaved as if the prize were already in his hands.

"Twenty pounds a-year for three years," said he complacently, to his
ally.  "Not a bad pot.  Tell you what, Dig, well get a tandem tricycle,
my boy, with the first year's money.  Hope they'll pay it in advance,
don't you? then we can get it after break-up, and have some ripping
spins in the summer holidays.  Better fun than fooling about in
Switzerland with Marky and Daisy.  We'll either get that, or I know a
jolly little boat Punter has for sale at Teddington, with a towing-line
and double sculls, and a locker under the stern seat for grub.  He
wanted £22 for it, but I expect he'll come down the £2 for ready money.
Perhaps it would be better to buy it this summer, and get the tricycle
with next year's money.  I've a good mind to write to Punter to-night."

"Hadn't you better get the Exhibition first?" suggested the baronet.

"Of course I mean to get it," said Arthur, rather nettled; "I fancy
Ainger's as good a judge of what a chap can do in that line as you are."

"I don't know," replied Dig; "he said _I_ was going to get the History
Medal, but I'm not so sure if I shall."

"Well, I did think he was letting out a bit when he said that," replied
Arthur, with a chuckle.  "Never mind, we'll go halves in the
Exhibition."

It must be admitted that the prospect of his coming academical success
did not appreciably affect Arthur Herapath's studies during the present
term.  Four-and-a-half months is a long time to look ahead in a
schoolboy's career; and, as it happened, the captain's speech had
suggested other matters in the immediate future, which for the time
being absorbed not only Arthur's attention but everyone else's.

That evening, a list of events for the House sports was exhibited on the
common room door, with space below each for the names of intending
competitors.  It was noticed that the list corresponded in every
particular with the list of the School sports to be held a week earlier,
and that the compiler (who was detected by the handwriting to be
Barnworth) had already written in brackets the names of those who had
entered for each of the events in the School sports.  Every one,
therefore, in Railsford's, could see, not only what he was going in for,
but who the competitors were whom he was expected to beat.

A good beginning had already been made before the list came under the
notice of the juniors.  For the High Jump, which this year, for some
reason or other, had been looked forward to as one of the principal
events, the signature of Barnworth stood boldly underneath the dreaded
names of Smedley and Clipstone.  More than that, Wake, too, had entered
himself in the lists against these great competitors.  The entries for
the Mile were scarcely less interesting.  Smedley was to run for the
School, and, still more formidable, the long-legged Branscombe.  Against
them now appeared the names of Ainger and Stafford, and the plucky
Ranger of the Fifth, and so on down the list, for all the big events,
the prefects and the redoubtable Fifth-form "muggers" of Railsford's had
set their challenge, and the hearts of the juniors swelled big within
them as they crowded round the board to write their names against the
lesser contests.

Arthur and the baronet adopted the simple and modest method of entering
themselves for everything; and it was not till Maple hinted something
about the entrance fees mounting up to about a sovereign a-piece that
they drew in their horns and limited their ambitions to the long jump
under fifteen, the junior hurdle race, and the quarter-mile under
sixteen.  The other Shell-fish followed suit.  Tilbury, of course, put
himself down for throwing the cricket-ball under fifteen.  Indeed, some
of his admirers thought he might even venture to throw against the
seniors; only Felgate already had his name down for that event.
Dimsdale undertook the hundred yards under fifteen against several
strong opponents; and, on the whole, among them, the boys of the Shell
contrived to make a strong show on the list for every event within their
reach.  When the turn came for the Babies, they evinced equal spirit,
and divided the list among them with a fierceness which augured ill for
the Babies of the other houses whose claims they challenged.

Ainger and Barnworth strolled down later on to examine the list, and now
suggested a few alterations.  The baronet for instance, was called upon
to enter for the second class of kicking the football contest, and
Arthur was moved from the quarter-mile to the half-mile, because a good
man was wanted there to beat Smythe, of the School-House, whereas
Sherriff could very well be trusted to take care of the quarter-mile for
Railsford's house.

Mr Railsford presently arrived on the scene, and went into the whole
programme enthusiastically, and in a way which won him friends among the
boys, more even than his reputed authorship of the Bickers outrage had
lately done.  He invited any boys who chose during the next few days to
try over their event in his presence, and suggested that a record of the
times should be carefully kept, with a view to ensure that each trial
should beat the last.

More than that, he offered a prize for the best all-round record in the
house; and proposed that, although they were not rich enough to give
prizes for each event, any boy who beat the School record in his
competition should receive back his entrance fee.  This practical
suggestion gave much satisfaction.

"Of course," said he, to one or two of those round him, "it is harder to
run against time than against another fellow.  You must make up your
minds for that; and I would advise you to try to get the two best in our
house to enter for each event, so as to get the spur of a close race.
Our times are sure to be the better for it."

Boys liked him for that word "our."  It sounded like a common cause, and
they were quick to hail the first symptom of such feeling in a master.

The next fortnight witnessed a smart athletic fever in the house.  Of
course, it soon spread abroad what Railsford's was up to, and the School
form generally improved in consequence.  In fact, when the day arrived
for the School sports, it was generally felt that Grandcourt had rarely
come on to the ground better up to the mark.  Alas!  Grandcourt came on
to the ground in two halves, and on two different days.  When the boys
of the school-House, Roe's, Bickers's, and Grover's turned out to the
starting-post, Railsford's, chafing like greyhounds in the leash, turned
in to their penitential dinner.

"Never mind," said Ainger, as the distant shouts were wafted from the
playing-fields into the common room, "it will be our turn to-day week!"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A FLY IN THE OINTMENT.

Ainger's prediction that the house was not likely to get much backing-up
in its new efforts from Felgate, looked likely enough to be fulfilled.
While everyone else was full of athletic and scholastic fervour, he
remained listless and even sulky.  Some said it was because Ainger had
proposed the great scheme, and Felgate disdained to play second riddle
even to the captain.  Others said it was because he could not win
anything even if he tried.  Others darkly hinted that he was one of the
authors of the house's present disgrace; and others whispered that there
was no love lost between Railsford and his fourth prefect.  In this last
conjecture the gossips were right.  Felgate and the Master of the Shell
had not hit it from the first day of their acquaintance; and within the
last few days an occurrence had taken place which had brought the two
into violent collision.

Railsford on leaving his room one afternoon had been attracted by the
noise of groans and weeping at the far end of the passage.  Going in the
direction of the melancholy sounds, he discovered Bateson, the Baby,
with a face as white as a sheet, huddled up all of a heap, the picture
of misery and tribulation.

"What is the matter?" inquired the master.

The sufferer did not hear him at first; but on a repetition of the
question he looked up and groaned.

"Oh, I'm dying!  I'm so ill!  Oh, what _shall I_ do?"

Railsford was alarmed.  The boy looked so white, and trembled all over.
He stooped down to lift him up; but Bateson blubbered.

"Don't touch me, please.  Oh, I'm dying!" and rolled over, groaning.

It was no time for parleying.  Railsford lifted him up in his arms and
looked at him.  There were beads of perspiration on his face, and a
flavour of strong tobacco about his jacket.  Bateson had been smoking.
The master carried him downstairs and out into the square, where he set
him on his feet.  The cool air instantly revived the unhappy boy, and
what it left undone a short and sharp fit of sickness completed.

"You're better now," said Railsford, when this little ceremony was over.

Bateson was fain to admit it.

"How many more cigars have you got about you?" inquired the master, as
he stalked with the delinquent at his heels into his room, and closed
the door.

The Baby was pale this time with terror, not with tobacco.  He
tremblingly turned out his trousers pockets, and produced a big cigar of
which about a quarter had been consumed.

"That's all, really, sir," he faltered.

Railsford took the cigar and sniffed it.  In his old college days he
would not like to say he had not smoked as good a one himself.

"Very well," said he, handing it back to the astonished Baby.  "Now,
Bateson, sit down on that chair.  Here are some matches.  You must
finish this cigar to the end before you leave this room."

The wretched Bateson turned green and began to howl.

"Oh no, please sir!  Don't say that, sir!  It will kill me!  Please, Mr
Railsford!"

Railsford quietly lit a match, and handed it to the boy.  Bateson fairly
went down on his knees, and grovelled at the master's feet.

"Oh, Mr Railsford!  I'll promise never to touch one again--I really
will if you'll only let me off.  I should die if you made me.  Oh,
please!"

Railsford blew out the match and told the boy to get up.

"I never did it before," whimpered Bateson--it was hardly necessary to
say that.  "I didn't know it was any harm.  Felgate said it would do me
good.  Please, Mr Railsford, may I put it in the fire?  I'll never
touch such a beastly thing again."

And as Railsford said nothing to prevent it, he flung the origin of his
evils into the fire.

"Now go to your room," said the master.  "And don't be so foolish
again."

Bateson departed, marvelling that he had not been thrashed for his
crime, but pretty effectually cured of any ambition to renew his
narcotic experiments.  Railsford, had he been anyone else but Master of
the House, would have enjoyed this little adventure.  As it was, he did
not like it, for it could scarcely end where it had.  He astonished
Felgate that evening by a visit to his study.

"Felgate," said he, "I wish to know your reason for giving Bateson a
cigar to smoke."

"I give Bateson a cigar, sir?"

"Do you deny it, Felgate?" demanded the master sternly.

"Oh," said the prefect, with a forced laugh, "I believe there was some
joke about a cigar.  He had a great fancy to try one."

A scornful look came into Railsford's face as he said, "Do you really
suppose, Felgate, any good is gained by not telling the truth at once?"

"The truth, sir?" said Felgate, firing up as uncandid persons always do
when their veracity is questioned.  "I don't understand you, sir."

"You understand me perfectly," said Railsford.  "You know that it is
against rules for boys to smoke here."

"I wasn't smoking," said Felgate.

"No.  You encouraged another boy to do what you dared not do yourself;
that is hardly creditable in a prefect."

Felgate shifted his ground.

"There's nothing wrong in smoking," said he; "lots of fellows do it."

"I do it myself," said Railsford bluntly, "but what has that to do with
this matter?  You, as a monitor, are on your honour to observe the rules
of the school, and see that others observe them.  You break them
yourself, and encourage others to break them.  Is there nothing wrong in
that?"

Felgate said nothing, and jauntily took up a book.

"Put down that book, and bring me all the cigars or tobacco you have, at
once."

Railsford said this quietly and firmly.  He had lost his shy, hesitating
manner with his prefects; and now, when, for the first time, he was in
collision with one of their number, he showed himself a stronger man
than Felgate, at any rate, had given him credit for being.  The prefect
looked for a moment as if he would resist.  Then he sullenly went to his
locker and produced a case containing four cigars.

"These are all you have?"

Felgate nodded.

"They are confiscated by the rules of the school," said Railsford.
"They will be returned to you after breaking-up.  I wish I were able to
return them to you now, and rely on your honour not to repeat your
offence."

"I don't want them back," said Felgate, with a sneer.  "You may smoke
them yourself, sir."

He repented of the insult before it had left his lips.  Railsford,
however, ignored it, and quietly taking the cigars from the case, took
them away with him, leaving the case on the table.  Felgate's impulse
was to follow him and apologise for his ill-bred words.  But his evil
genius kept him back; and before bed-time arrived he not only repented
of his repentance, but reproached himself for not saying a great deal
more than he had.  Felgate had a wonderful gift of self-delusion.  He
knew he had acted wrongly and meanly.  "And yet," he argued, "smoking is
no crime, and if the school rules make it one, it doesn't follow that
I'm a sinner if I have a whiff now and then.  He admits he smokes
himself.  He doesn't call himself a sinner.  Easy enough for him to be
high and mighty.  One law for him and another for me."

Poor young Bateson had a sorry time of it for the next week.  In his
terror at the prospect of having to smoke that awful cigar to the bitter
end, he had scarcely known what he was saying; and it was not until
Felgate charged him with being a sneak that he realised he had said
anything to compromise his senior.  Felgate was not one of the vulgar
noisy sort of bullies, but a good deal worse.  He made the wretched
Baby's life miserable with all sorts of exquisite torture.  He hounded
him on to break rules, and then caught him red-handed, and held over his
head threats of exposure and punishment.  He passed the word round the
house that the boy was a tell-tale, and little was the mercy poor
Bateson got either from friend or foe when that became known.  Nor did
Felgate, in his revengeful whims, omit the orthodox functions of the
bully.  Only he took care to perform such ceremonies in private, for
fear of a mishap.  But in these precautions he unluckily reckoned
without his host.

Railsford, after what had happened, was hardly likely to consider
Bateson's lot a happy one, and kept a sharp look-out to prevent any
mischief coming to the luckless Baby on account of his confessions.  For
some days, no sign of any such trouble came under the master's notice;
and he was beginning to congratulate himself that Felgate had taken a
proper view of his delinquencies, and was taking the only manly course
of making amends, when the smouldering fires broke out unexpectedly and
fiercely.  Master Bateson was one of those practical young gentlemen who
believe in having a shilling's worth for a shilling; and when after a
day or two he heard himself called a sneak from every corner of the
house, it occurred to him, "What's the use of being called a sneak if
I'm not one?"  Whereupon he marched off to Railsford, and informed him
that Felgate had twice screwed his arm; once made him catch hold of a
poker at the hot end--the proof whereof he bore on his hand--had once
made him stand in the corner on one foot for the space of an hour by the
clock; and had half a dozen times threatened him that unless he did
something wrong he would accuse him of theft or some other horrible
crime to the doctor.  By reason of which ill-usage and threats, he, the
deponent, went in bodily fear of his life.

"Oh, and please, Mr Railsford, be sure and not let him know I told you,
or he'll kill me!"

Railsford had another uncomfortable interview with Felgate after this.
Felgate as usual began by impugning the junior's veracity, but on the
master's proposing to send for the boy, and let him repeat his story
there and then, he sullenly admitted that he might have played practical
jokes on his tender person of the kind suggested.  When Railsford said
the matter was a serious one, the prefect smiled deprecatingly, and said
it was not pleasant to him to be spoken to in this manner, and that if
Mr Railsford wished to punish him he would be glad to have it over and
done with.  Railsford said that the question in his mind was whether he
would allow Felgate to continue a prefect of the house.  Whereupon
Felgate promptly changed colour and dropped his sneer entirely.

"I'm sure," said he, "I had no intention of hurting him.  I may have
been a trifle inconsiderate, but I didn't suppose--he didn't complain to
me, so I could hardly know he minded it."

"I can have very little confidence in a prefect who acts as you have
done, Felgate."

"You may depend on me, sir, not to touch him again."

"I want to depend on more than that," said the master.  "As a prefect,
you hold a position of influence in the house.  If that influence is
badly used--"

"I don't think you will have to complain any more," said Felgate.

"I sincerely hope not--for you may be sure another offence of this kind
could not possibly be passed over.  For the present I shall say no more
about this, and shall do my best to treat you with the same confidence
as heretofore.  Just now we need all to work together for the good of
our house and the school; and the boys are sure to look to the prefects
to help them.  Good-night, Felgate."

The grimace with which the prefect returned the salute, after the door
closed, might have convinced Railsford, had he seen it, that he had done
no good either to himself, the house, or the prefect by his leniency.
As it was, he was destined to make the discovery later on.  Felgate, to
all appearances, resumed his old ways in the house.  He let young
Bateson alone, and kept to himself his feud with the master.  He even
attempted to pretend a languid interest in the new ambitions of his
fellow-prefects, and at Ainger's request entered his name for one of the
events in the sports list.  Railsford observed with some relief that he
appeared to recognise the force of the rebuke which had been
administered him, and with characteristic hopefulness was tempted to
look upon the incident as ended.

It was by no means ended.  Felgate, to all appearance docile and
penitent, nursed his wrath within him, and kept his eye open, with all
the keenness of a sportsman, to the slightest opening for a revenge.  In
a quiet way he continued to do a great deal in the house to thwart the
spirit of enterprise which was at present knitting all factions
together.  He sneered in a superior way at the enthusiasm all round him,
and succeeded in making one or two of the fellows a little ashamed of
their own eagerness.

The funds for Railsford's testimonial came in slowly.  The result of a
fortnight's hard work was only four shillings and threepence, and to get
even that wretched sum Arthur had made himself temporary enemies all
over the house.  He wrote an urgent letter to Daisy, to "shell out"
something, and strove to work on the feelings of his parents to assist
him to do honour to their future son-in-law.  Meanwhile he conceived the
wild project of approaching the prefects on the subject.  Unluckily for
everybody, he made his first attempt with Felgate.

"A testimonial for Marky?" inquired that worthy.  "What for?"

"Well, you know he's been pretty civil since he came, and he's backed us
up in that row about Bickers, you know.  We thought we'd get him a ring,
you know.  He's spoons on my sister Daisy, and Dig and I thought it
would fetch him if we stuck `Chuckey'--that's the pet name he calls
her--on it.  Don't you think it would be a good dodge?  He'd be sure to
be pleased if he saw your name on the list of subscribers, Felgate."

"I'm certain of that," said Felgate, laughing, "and if only I'd got any
tin I'd be delighted.  By the way, I fancy I did see a sixpence kicking
about somewhere."

"Thanks, awfully.  That'll be a stunning lift.  He's sure to be extra
civil to you after it."

"Oh, I see.  Bribery, is it?" said Felgate, laughing.  "And what
particular reason have you for getting Mr Chuckey a testimonial?"

"Ha, ha!" said Arthur, who felt bound to laugh at the senior's joke.
"Jolly good name for him.  Oh, some of the fellows think he's backed us
up, you know, about Bickers and all that.  Thanks awfully for the
sixpence, Felgate.  I'll be sure and stick your name at the top of the
list.  I say, when's that trial adjourned to?"

"I don't know.  By the way, youngster, what a smart barrister you made
that evening.  Where did you pick it all up?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Arthur, feeling rather flattered.  "Dig and I
went and heard a chap tried at the Old Bailey once.  It was rather slow.
But, I say, do you really think I doubled up Dig well?  He was awfully
wild."

"I don't wonder.  You did it splendidly.  Whatever put all the things
into your head?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Arthur, getting a little "tilted" with all this
flattery from a senior.  "It was a notion I had."

"Not half a bad notion," said Felgate, beginning to think the game was
worth following up.  "Not one fellow in a dozen would have thought about
that match-box up on the ledge."

"That's just it.  It must have been a tall chap to put it up there."

"Of course, unless someone got on a chair."

"I thought of that," responded Arthur grandly; "only there were one or
two other things to come out if I'd had time.  I say, do you know when
it's adjourned to?"

"I don't know.  I hope not for long.  I'd like to hear what else you've
got.  I could never make up such things to save my life."

"Perhaps I didn't make them up," said Arthur, who felt that for once in
a way thorough justice was being done to his own cleverness.

"You don't mean you can produce the actual match-box?  Why, you ought to
be made Attorney-General or Lord Chancellor."

"Can't I, though, I can!" said Arthur, "and something else too.  Suppose
we'd found the door was kept open with a wedge of paper addressed in a
certain handwriting to a certain name--eh? and suppose the sack had the
initials on it of the same fellow that the paper and match-box belonged
to--eh?  That would make a pretty hot case for our side, wouldn't it?"

"My word, youngster; you're a sharp one.  But I suppose it's all make-
up!"

"Not a bit of it," said Arthur, flushed by his triumph.

"I'll believe it when I see it," said Felgate sceptically.

"I'll show it you now," said Arthur, "if you'll promise to keep it dark.
I'm not making up a bit of it."

"If you aren't, all I can say is--Where are they?"

"Come and see," said Arthur, leading the way to his study.

Dig was out on leave in the village.

"There you are," said Arthur, when he had opened his locker and produced
the precious relics.  "There's the match-box.  Have you ever seen any
others of the same kind?  I have."

"I fancy I saw one once," said Felgate.

"Belonging to a fellow six foot two who could reach up to the ledge?"

Felgate nodded.

"Now look at that paper--a bit of the _Standard_: there's part of the
address.  I fancy I know my sister Daisy's fist when I see it.  There
you are!  That was screwed up to jam open the door to keep it from
sliding-to.  Six foot two again.  Then there's the sack--precious like
an M and an R those two letters, aren't they? and M R is precious like
the initials of six foot two again.  I don't blame him if he did scrag
old Bickers--very good job; and as it happens, it don't hurt our house
very much now we're going to get all the sports; and I'm booked for the
Swift Exhibition--£20 a-year for three years.  We mean to back him up,
and that's one reason why we're going to give him the testimonial--
though none of the chaps except Dig knows about these things.  I say, be
sure you keep it quiet, Felgate, won't you?  I trust you not to tell
anybody a word about it."

"Don't you be afraid of me, youngster," said Felgate.  "I'd advise you
to take good care of those things.  We'll have some fun with them when
the trial comes on again.  Don't go saying too much about it till then.
Did I give you the sixpence?  No?  There it is.  Put it down from `A
Friend.'  I must go now, young 'un."

He departed, leaving Arthur to pack up his treasures, amid some
misgivings lest the sixpence in his hand was after all hardly worth the
secret he had bought it with.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

CHALLENGING THE RECORD.

On the Monday before Railsford's sports, Ainger and Barnworth sat rather