secret, and were not likely to let it drop. Indeed, it was
evident that, so far from that, they would like if possible to fix a
charge of actual complicity in the outrage on himself.

Railsford laughed contemptuously at the notion, as the wild malice of a
revengeful enemy. But he knew that no explanation would be likely to
put them off the pursuit short of the actual naming of the culprits,
which he was resolved at all risks to refuse.

Was this to be the end of his brilliant school career? After two terms
of hard work and honest battle, was he to be turned away, cashiered and
mined, just because he had stayed to nurse a sick boy and overheard his
delirious confession?

It was no small temptation as he sat in his room that night, to
compromise with honour. He could so easily save himself. He could, by
a word, sweep away the cloud which hung over his future, and not his
future only, but Daisy's. The outrage had been a cowardly one. Two of
its perpetrators at least were worthless boys, and the other was away
from Grandcourt, and might possibly never come back. Was it worth
risking so much for so small a scruple? Did not his duty to Grandcourt
demand sacrifices of him, and could he not that very night remove a dark
blot from its scutcheon!

So the battle went on, and Railsford fought it out, inch by inch, like a
man. He was not single-handed in such matters: he had a Friend who
always wins, and He helped Railsford to win that night.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A BROWN-PAPER PARCEL.

Railsford was somewhat surprised at call-over on the following morning
to observe that neither Arthur Herapath nor Digby Oakshott answered to
their names.

"Why are they not here?" he asked.

"They're still on the sick list," said Ainger.

"Has anyone seen them?"

"Yes, sir," said Tilbury; "they were coughing a good deal in the night,
and said they felt too bad to get up this morning, and had the medical
doctor's leave to stay in bed till he came round."

"Oh," said Railsford, and walked up-stairs to interview these two
unfortunate invalids.

"Well," said he, entering the room just in time to interrupt what he
imagined, from the sounds heard outside, must have been a spirited
bolster match, "how are you both this morning?"

They both began to cough, wearily, "A little better, I think," said
Arthur, with fortitude; "I think we might try to get up later on. But
the medical said we'd better wai