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