l for cubicles. Ta, ta. _Je suis tres
miserable_. Your aff. A.H."

Little dreaming of the sad blight which had come over his future young
kinsman's life, Railsford was sitting in his room that Sunday evening,
feeling rather more than usually comfortable. He had some cause to be
pleased. His house had done better than anyone expected. They had
beaten all the records but three, and, without being specially
conceited, Railsford took to himself the credit of having done a good
deal to bring about this satisfactory result.

"Curious," said he to himself, "that in all probability, if that affair
of Bickers's had not happened, we might never have risen as a house;
indeed, it's almost a mercy the culprit has never been discovered, for
we should have then been plunged back into the current, and the work of
pulling ourselves together might never have been done. It's odd that,
as time goes on, there is not even a hint or a suspicion who did it.
There's only one boy in the house I'm not sure of, and he is too great a
coward to be a ruffian. Well, well, we have the cricket season and the
exams, coming on. If only we do as well in them as we've done in the
sports, it will not be altogether against us if the mystery remains a
mystery a little longer."

Whereupon the door opened and Mr Bickers stepped in. Railsford had
completely forgotten the episode in the fields the previous day; he
scarcely recollected that Mr Bickers had been present at the sports,
and was delightfully oblivious to the fact that he, Railsford, had
either slighted or offended his colleague. He wondered what was the
occasion of the present visit, and secretly resolved to keep both his
temper and his head if he could.

"Good-evening," said he, with a friendly smile. "I'm just going to have
my coffee; won't you have a cup too, Bickers?"

Mr Bickers took no notice of this hospitable invitation, but closed the
door behind him and said, "I want a few words with you, Mr Railsford."

"Certainly? I've nothing to do-- Won't you take a seat?"

Mr Bickers took a seat, a little disconcerted by Railsford's determined
good-humour. He had not counted upon that.

"The last time I saw you you were hardly so polite," said he, with a
sneer.

"When was that? I'm very sorry if I was rude; I had no intention, I
assure you."

Railsford began to feel a little like the lamb in the fable. This wolf
had evidently come bent on a quarrel, and Railsford, lamb and all