ly constituted
midnight visitor should do--switched off the electric light. When
Mr. Fillet, with a heart going like a motor engine, found the switch
and flooded the room with light, there was, of course, no one there.
But on his writing-table lay his cane, broken into pieces, and my
own copy of the thousand lines torn into little bits.

CHAPTER IV

THE PREFECTS GO OVER TO THE ENEMY

Sec.1

What more exciting than for the whole school to learn by rumour the
next morning that all the prefects of Bramhall House had been
mysteriously withdrawn from their Olympian class-rooms to a special
cabinet meeting under the presidency of Stanley, the gorgeous
house-captain? Clearly some awful crime had been committed at
Bramhall, and there would be a public whacking and an expulsion. We
humans may or may not be brutal, but life is certainly more
stimulating when there is an execution in the air.

Chattering, prophesying, and wondering who was the criminal, we
found our way to our various class-rooms. It being First Period,
Doe, Penny, and I were under Radley's stern rule and obliged to sit
quietly in our desks, knowing that he would allow no more licence on
this exciting day than on any other. Our heads were bent over our
work when Bickerton, the junior prefect of Bramhall, entered the
room, approached the master's desk, and spoke in an undertone to
Radley.

I saw--for I was gazing at the new arrival over my work--Radley look
astonished, and turn his eyes in my direction.

"Ray."

"Yes, sir."

"You're wanted in the Prefects' Room."

I remember the universal flutter of excitement and surprise; I
remember Doe raising his head like a startled deer as I went out and
shut the door; I remember catching, from outside, Radley's sharp
rebuke, "Get on with your work." His voice sounded strangely
distant, and seemed to be on the happier side of a closed door.

Bickerton, who was enjoying himself, walked in front; and I followed
behind, bringing my attention to bear upon keeping in step.
Rearranging my stride now and then, I marched through the empty
corridors, listening to the drone of masters' voices teaching in
their class-rooms, and wondering at the loudness of our footsteps.
The sight of the prefects' door gave me my first sense of fear.

Being a prefect and thus mightily privileged, Bickerton turned the
door-handle of the room without knocking. It was like laying a hand
upon the Ark. Into the holy place Doe and I