ame to him was who had written this abominable, ill-spelt accusation,
evidently pointed at himself?

"That was the letter, then, that the Doctor mentioned," he said to
himself, and he tried to read the words again, instinctively filling up
some of the blanks so as to make the letter fit himself; and it seemed
to him that there could only have been one person who was capable of
writing such a thing.

He examined the lettering once again--a back-slanting hand, disguised.

"And I have only one enemy--Slegge," he thought to himself, as he softly
blew out the candle and crept back into bed; but it was long ere sleep
came, for the writing, run by the blotting-paper but still vivid, seemed
to dance before his eyes, and as he now mentally read it: "It was Glyn
Severn who stole the Prince's belt."

And it was with this to form the subject of his dreams that he fell fast
asleep.

On the following morning Glyn entered the class-room early and proceeded
to Slegge's desk.

"Just as I thought," he said, and he took up one of the writing folio
books which lay with other volumes on the desk-cover.

There was no one else in the theatre at that early hour, and Glyn had
time to compare as he wished certain of the letters and capitals in
Slegge's handwriting with the wording on the blotting-paper.

"It was he; there can be no doubt," he exclaimed, and he went out of the
room, making for the playground, intending to find his detractor; but he
was not to be seen.

Fortune, however, favoured him as he was making his way back to the
schoolhouse, for near the boys' gardens he suddenly caught sight of the
object of his search.

"I say, Slegge," he said, approaching the lad, "I want to talk to you."

It did not seem to be quite the same self-confident bully of the day
previous who responded, "Eh? You do, Severn? What's up?"

"Come into the class-room," said Severn. "I want you."

"What!" began Slegge. "What do you mean? Why are you trying to order
me about?"

"Because I have something to tell you."

"Ha, ha, Cocky Severn! It's time you had that thrashing."

"Is it?" said Glyn. "Well, I don't think I should care to fight with a
fellow who writes anonymous letters."

"What do you mean by that?" cried the other.

"I will show you what I mean if you come with me. I don't suppose you
want the other fellows to hear it."

"I don't care," said Slegge. "Some cock-and-bull story you are
hatching, Severn."

"You wrote that