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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
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