out
it's all humbug, but I know better. Come, don't be in a rage, Raby; you
forget I'm an invalid."

So they made it up on the spot, and Percy flattered himself he had done
a great deal to make things right for Jeffreys.

Jeffreys, however, was still harassed by perplexity, and was gradually
veering round to the conclusion that he must at all costs relieve his
mind of his secret to Mr Rimbolt. He put the task off day after day,
shrinking from the wrench of all the ties which made his life happy.

One day, however, finding himself alone with Mr Rimbolt in the library,
he suddenly resolved then and there to speak out.

"Oh, Jeffreys," began Mr Rimbolt, "I am very anxious to get those books
from the Wanley Abbey sale looked through and catalogued within the next
few days if you can manage it. We all go up to London, you know, next
week, and I should be glad to have all square before we start."

"I have no doubt they can all be gone through before then."

"I should like you to come to town, too," said Mr Rimbolt. "Percy sets
great store by your companionship; besides which, there are some very
important book sales coming on in which I shall want your help."

"I had been going to ask you--" began Jeffreys, feeling his temples
throbbing like two steam-engines.

"Oh, by the way," interrupted Mr Rimbolt, taking a letter from his
pocket, "did not you tell me you were at a school called Bolsover?"

"Yes," faltered Jeffreys, wondering what was coming.

"It's very odd. I have a letter from an old Oxford acquaintance of
mine, called Frampton, who appears to be head-master there, and whom I
have never heard of for about sixteen years. He is fond of books, and
writes to ask if he may come and see the library. I've asked him to
stay a night, and expect him here to-morrow. I dare say you will be
glad to meet him. Perhaps he knows you are here?"

"No, I don't think so," said Jeffreys.

"Ah, then I dare say you will be glad to see one another again."

Jeffreys was considerably staggered by this unexpected announcement, but
it relieved him of all present perplexity as to speaking to Mr Rimbolt
of young Forrester. He would at least wait till Mr Frampton came, and
put himself in his hands.

Mr Frampton came, as young and fresh as ever. He was taking a three
days' run in the Lake country during a term holiday, and, determined to
do and see all he could, had decided to visit his old college friend,
and look over the