ht of the lamp. Obviously he wished to examine the
watermark. The paper was thin notepaper, the kind that is sold
everywhere for foreign correspondence. Beaumont-Greene, economical in
such matters, had bought a couple of quires when his people went
abroad. The paper he had bought did not quite match the Roman
envelope. Warde opened a drawer, from which he took some thin paper.
This also he held up to the light.

"It's an odd coincidence," he said, tranquilly; "your father in Rome
uses the same notepaper that I buy here. But the envelope is Italian?"

He spoke interrogatively, but the wretch opposite had lost the power of
speech. He collapsed. Warde rose, throwing aside his quiet manner as
if it were a drab-coloured cloak. Now he was himself, alert, on edge,
sanguine.

"You fool!" he exclaimed; "you clumsy fool! Why, a child could find
you out. And you--you have dared to play with such an edged tool as
forgery. Now, do the one thing which is left to you: make a clean
breast of it to me--at once."

In imposing this command, a command which he knew would be obeyed,
inasmuch as he perceived that he dominated the weak grovelling creature
in front of him, Warde overlooked the possibility that this boy's
confession might implicate other boys. Already he had formed in his
mind a working hypothesis to account for this forged letter. The
fellow, no doubt, was in debt to some Harrow townsman.

"For whom did you _steal_ this money? To whom did you pay it to-day?
Answer!"

And he was answered.

"I owed the money to Scaife and Lovell."

Then he told the story of the card-playing. At the last word he fell
on his knees, blubbering.

"Get up," said Warde, sharply. "Pull yourself together if you can."

The master began to walk up and down the room, frowning and biting his
lips. From time to time he glanced at Beaumont-Greene. Seeing his
utter collapse, he rang the bell, answered by the ever-discreet
Dumbleton.

"Dumbleton, take Mr. Beaumont-Greene to the sick-room. There is no one
in it, I believe?"

"No, sir."

"You will fetch what he may require for the night; quietly, you
understand."

"Very good, sir."

"Follow Dumbleton," Warde addressed Beaumont-Greene. "You will
consider yourself under arrest. Your meals will be brought to you.
You will hold no communication with anybody except Dumbleton and me;
you will send no messages; you will write no notes. Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then go