satisfied that
I'm not either the fool or the sinner you took me to be."

"Look here, Harry. If I appeal to you in the name of our friendship;
if I ask you for my sake and for my mother's sake not to do this
thing----"

"Jonathan, I must go. Don't make it harder than it is."

"Then it is hard?"

"I won't whine about that. I courted this adventure, and, by Jove!
I'm going to see it through. The odds are a hundred to one against my
being nailed."

"All right; I'll say no more. Good night."

"Good night, old Jonathan."

John went back to his room, waited three minutes, and then, in despair,
made up his mind to seek Scaife. He felt certain that the Demon's
extraordinary luck was about to stand between him and expulsion.
Desmond would be caught red-handed, but not he. John ground his teeth
with rage at the thought. He found Scaife alone--at work on cricketing
accounts.

"Hullo, Verney!"

"Caesar tells me that he is going up to London to-night."

"Oh, he told you that, did he?"

"Yes; you wished him to tell me?"

"Perhaps." Scaife laughed louder.

"You want to prove to me," said John, slowly, "that you are the
stronger?"

"Perhaps." Scaife laughed.

"Well, if I surrender, if I admit that you are the stronger, that you
have defeated me, won't that be enough?"

"Eh? I don't quite take you."

"You are the stronger." John's voice was very miserable. "I have
tried to dissuade him, as you knew I should try, and I have failed.
Isn't that enough? You have your triumph. But now be generous. Turn
round and use your strength the other way. Make him give up this
folly. You don't want to see your own pal--sacked?"

"Precious little chance of that!"

"There is the chance."

Scaife hesitated. Did some worthier impulse stir within him? Who can
tell? His keen eye softened, and then hardened again.

"No," he said quickly. "If I agree to what you propose, it is, after
all, you who triumph, not I. And I doubt if I could stop him now, even
if I tried." He laughed again, for the third time, savagely. "You are
hoist with your own petard, Verney. You wanted to see me sacked; and
now that there is a chance in a thousand that Caesar will be sacked,
you squirm. I swore to get my knife into you, and, by God, I've done
it."

John went out, very pale. He passed through into the private side, and
tapped at Warde's study door. Mrs. Warde's voice bade him enter. She
looked at John's face. Afterw