had taken them up two eggs a-piece
and some tea and hot buttered toast at six o'clock, which they had
partaken of, and then, informing her that they felt no better, they had
disposed themselves, as she supposed, to sleep.

He looked into their study. They were not there; nor had anyone heard
of them in the preparation room. Finally, he peeped into the Fourth
class-room, and beheld the two invalids masquerading on the stage, and
recognised the voice and sentiments of his kinsman, albeit proceeding
through the nose, as he flourished his (or rather her) mop in the air,
and announced that there was going to be a "dice doise."

The whole scene was so ridiculous that Railsford deemed it prudent not
to discover himself, and withdrew as unobserved as he had entered.

At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Arthur and Dig were all
right after their adventure; and that, thought he, is the main thing.

Poor Railsford had plenty else to occupy his thoughts that evening. The
interview with the doctor in the morning had seemed to bring him up
short in his career at Grandcourt.

If his enemies had tried to corner him, they could not have done it
better. It was true that he knew the culprits, and by not denouncing
them was, to that extent, shielding them.

But he had come to that knowledge, as the reader knows, by an accident,
of which, as an honourable man, he felt he had no right to take
advantage, even to set right so grievous a wrong as the Bickers mystery.

He might explain, without mentioning names, how he had learned the
facts; but that would be as good as naming the culprit, for Branscombe
had been the only case of serious illness accompanied by delirium at
Grandcourt during the last two terms.

He might write to Branscombe, and tell him his dilemma, and beseech him
to make a confession. And yet what right had he to take advantage of
the boy's unconscious confession to put pressure on him to make it
public?

Other persons less fastidious might do it, but Railsford could not.

The alternative, of course, was that he would in all probability have to
leave Grandcourt. If the matter had rested only between him and the
doctor, he might have made a private communication under pledge of
secrecy, and so induced his principal to let the matter drop. But the
matter did not rest solely between him and the doctor. Mr Bickers and
Felgate, by some means which he was unable to fathom, appeared to have
learned the