Eric did not pretend to be asleep, but opened his eyes, and
looked at the head-master. Very sorrowfully Dr Rowlands shook his
head, and went away. Eric never saw him again.

The moment he was gone Eric got up. He meant to go to his study,
collect the few presents, which were his dearest mementos of Russell,
Wildney, and his other friends--above all, Vernon's likeness--and then
make his escape from the building, using for the last time the broken
pane and loosened bar in the corridor, with which past temptations had
made him so familiar.

He turned the handle of the door and pushed, but it did not yield. Half
contemplating the possibility of such an intention on Eric's part, Dr
Rowlands had locked it behind him when he went out.

"Ha!" thought the boy, "then he too knows and suspects. Never mind. I
must give up my treasures--yes, even poor Verny's picture; perhaps it is
best I should, for I'm only disgracing his dear memory. But they shan't
prevent me from running away."

Once more he deliberated. Yes, there could be no doubt about the
decision. He _could_ not endure another public expulsion, or even
another birching; he _could_ not endure the cold faces of even his best
friends. No, no! he _could_ not face the horrible phantom of detection,
and exposure, and shame. But worse than all this, he could not endure
_himself_; he must fly away from the sense that _he_, Eric Williams, the
brother of Vernon, the friend of Edwin Russell, was sunk in all
degradation. Could it really, really be, that _he_, once the soul of
chivalrous honour, who once would have felt a stain like a wound,--was
it possible that he should have been a thief? It was too dreadful a
thought. Escape he must.

After using all his strength in long-continued efforts, he succeeded in
loosening the bar of his bedroom window. He then took his two sheets,
tied them together in a firm knot, wound one end tightly round the
remaining bar, and let the other fall down the side of the building. He
took one more glance round his little room, and then let himself down by
the sheet, hand under hand, until he could drop to the ground. Once
safe, he ran towards Starhaven as fast as he could, and felt as if he
were flying for his life. But when he got to the end of the playground
he could not help stopping to take one more longing, lingering look at
the scenes he was leaving for ever. It was a chilly and overclouded
night, and by the gleams of strug