undred thousand?" Mr. Enwright asked, with bland innocence.
He generally left statistics to his partner.

"Four hundred and twenty-five."

"You've looked it up?"

"I have."

Mr. Enwright was now at the desk yet again.

"There's an idea to it," he said shortly, holding up the principal sheet
and blinking.

"_I shall go in for it_!" The thought swept through George's brain like
a fierce flare, lighting it up vividly to its darkest corners, and
incidentally producing upon his skin phenomena similar to those produced
by uncanny sounds on the staircase. He had caught admiration and
benevolence in Mr. Enwright's voice. He was intensely happy,
encouraged, and proud. He began to talk eagerly; he babbled, entrusting
himself to Mr. Enwright's benevolence.

"Of course there's the Final. If they give six months for the thing I
could easily get through the Final before sending-in day. I could take a
room somewhere. I shouldn't really want any assistance--clerk, I mean. I
could do it all myself...." He ran on until Mr. Enwright stopped him.

"You could have a room here--upstairs."

"Could I?"

"But you would want some help. And you needn't think they'll give six
months, because they won't. They might give five."

"That's no good."

"Why isn't it any good?" snapped Mr. Enwright. "You don't suppose
they're going to issue the conditions just yet, do you? Not a day before
September, not a day. And you can take it from me!"

"Oh! Hurrah!"

"But look here, my boy, let's be clear about one thing."

"Yes?"

"You're quite mad."

They looked at each other.

"The harmless kind, though," said George confidently, well aware that
Mr. Enwright doted upon him.

In another minute the principal had gone to bed, without having uttered
one word as to his health. George had announced that he should tidy the
sacred desk before departing. When he had done that he wrote a letter,
in pencil. "It's the least I can do," he said to himself seriously. He
began:

"DEAR MISS INGRAM."--"Dash it!--She calls me 'George,'" he thought, and
tore up the sheet.--"DEAR LOIS,--I think after what you said it's only
due to you to tell you that I've decided to go in for that competition
on my own. Thanks for the tip.--Yours, GEORGE CANNON"

He surveyed the message.

"That's about right," he murmured.

Then he looked at his watch. It showed 3.15, but it had ceased to beat.
He added at the foot of the letter: "Monday, 3.30 a.m." He stole one of
J