isely five
shillings--all Paul had in the world, the one rope by which he could
ever hope to haul himself up to his lost pinnacle!

Mr. Blinkhorn, naturally enough, saw no reason why the money, being
clearly due, should not be paid at once. "Give me any money you have
about you, Bultitude," he said, "and I'll satisfy your debts with it, as
far as it goes."

Paul clasped his arm convulsively. "No!" he cried hoarsely, "not that!
Don't make me do that! I--I can't pay them--not now. They don't
understand. If they only give me time they shall have double their money
back--waggon-loads of rabbits, the best rabbits money can buy--if
they'll wait. Tell them to wait. My dear sir, don't see me wronged! I
won't pay now!"

"They have waited long enough," said Mr. Blinkhorn; "you must pay them."

"I tell you I won't!" cried Paul; "do you hear? Not one sixpence. Oh, if
you knew! That infernal Garuda Stone! What fools people are!"

Then in his despair he did the most fatal thing possible. He tried to
save himself by flight, and with a violent plunge broke through the
circle and made for the road which led towards the station.

Instantly the whole school, only too glad of the excitement, was at his
heels. The unhappy Colonial Produce merchant ran as he had not run for a
quarter of a century, faster even than he had on his first experience of
Coggs' and Coker's society on that memorable Monday night. But in spite
of his efforts the chase was a short one. Chawner and Tipping very soon
had him by the collar, and brought him back, struggling and kicking out
viciously, to Mr. Blinkhorn, whose good opinion he had now lost for
ever.

"Please, sir," said Chawner, "I can feel something like a purse in his
pocket. Shall I take it out, sir?"

"As he refuses to act with common honesty--yes," said Mr. Blinkhorn.

It was Dick's purse, of course; and in spite of Paul's frantic efforts
to retain it, it was taken from him, its contents equitably divided
amongst the claimants, and the purse itself returned to him--empty.

"Now, Bultitude," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "if you really wish to leave the
field, you may."

Mr. Bultitude lost what little temper he had yet to lose; he flung the
useless purse from him and broke away from them all in a condition
little removed from insanity.

Leave the field! What a mockery the permission was now. How was he to
get home, a distance of more than fifty miles, without a penny in his
pocket? Ten minutes before