y.

'He--he had an accident the other night,' Mr. Thomasson answered. 'A
monstrous nuisance for him. He and his noble friend, Lord Almeric
Doyley, played a little trick on a--on one of the College servants. The
clumsy fellow--it is marvellous how awkward that class of persons
is--fell down the stairs and hurt himself.'

'Seriously?'

'Somewhat. Indeed--in fact he is dead. And now there is a kind of
feeling about it in the town. I persuaded Mr. Dunborough to take up his
quarters here for the night, but he is so spirited he would dine abroad.
Now I fear, I really fear, he may be in trouble!'

'If it is he they are hooting in St. Aldate's,' Sir George answered
drily, 'I should say he was in trouble! But in my time the gownsmen
would have sallied out and brought him off before this. And given those
yelpers a cracked crown or two!'

The roar of voices in the narrow streets was growing clearer and more
threatening. 'Ye-es?' said the Reverend Frederick, moving about the
room, distracted between his anxiety and his respect for his companion.
'Perhaps so. But there is a monstrous low, vulgar set in College
nowadays; a man of spirit has no chance with them. Yesterday they had
the insolence to break into my noble friend's rooms and throw his
furniture out of window! And, I vow, would have gone on to--but Lord!
this is frightful! What a shocking howling! My dear sir, my very dear
Sir George,' Mr. Thomasson continued, his voice tremulous and his fat
cheeks grown on a sudden loose and flabby, 'do you think that there is
any danger?'

'Danger?' Sir George answered, with cruel relish--he had gone to the
window, and was looking out. 'Well, I should say that Madam Venus there
would certainly have to stand shot. If you are wise you will put out
some of those candles. They are entering the lane now. Gad, Tommy, if
they think your lad of spirit is here, I would not give much for your
window-glass!'

Mr. Thomasson, who had hastened to take the advice, and had extinguished
all the candles but one, thus reducing the room to partial darkness,
wrung his hands and moaned for answer. 'Where are the proctors?' he
said. 'Where are the constables? Where are the--Oh, dear, dear, this is
dreadful!'

And certainly, even in a man of firmer courage a little trepidation
might have been pardoned. As the unseen crowd, struggling and jostling,
poured from the roadway of St. Aldate's into the narrow confines of
Pembroke Lane, the sound of its hootin