ed
over in his mind two or three specious lies that might meet the
exigency.

"Yes," he replied, with apparent frankness, "Beaumont-Greene did owe me
money, and he has paid me."

After a slight pause, Warde said quietly, "It is my duty, as your tutor,
to ask you how Beaumont-Greene became indebted to you?"

"I lent him the money," said Lovell.

"Ah! Please call 'Boy.'"

Lovell went into the passage. Had he an intuition that he was about to
call "Boy" for the last time, or did the pent-up excitement find an
outlet in sound? He had never called "Boy" so loudly or clearly. The
night-fag scurried up again.

"Tell him to send Scaife here," said Warde.

Lovell's florid face paled. Scaife would introduce complications. And
yet, if it had come to Warde's ears that Beaumont-Greene was in debt to
two of his schoolfellows, and if he had found out the name of one, it
was not surprising that he knew the name of the other also. As he gave
the fag the message, he regretted that Scaife and he could not have a
minute's private conversation together.

"You lent Beaumont-Greene ten pounds, Lovell?"

"Yes, sir."

Scaife came in, cool, handsomer than usual because of the sparkle in his
eyes.

"Shut the door, Scaife. Look at me, please. Beaumont-Greene owed you
money?"

Scaife glanced at Lovell, whose left eyelid quivered.

"Kindly stand behind Scaife, Lovell. Thank you. Answer my question,
Scaife."

"Yes, sir; he owed me money."

"Have _you_ lent him money, too?" said Lovell.

It was admirably done--the hint cleverly conveyed, the mild amazement.
Warde smiled grimly. Scaife understood, and took his cue.

"Yes; I have lent him money," said he, after a slight pause.

"Twenty pounds?"

"I believe, sir, that is the amount."

"And can you offer me any explanation why Beaumont-Greene, whose father,
to my knowledge, has always given him a very large allowance, should
borrow thirty pounds of you two?"

"I haven't the smallest idea, have you, Lovell?"

"No," said Lovell. "Unless his younger brother, who is at Eton, has got
into trouble. He's very fond of his brothers."

"Um! You speak up for your--friend."

Lovell frowned. "A friend, sir--no."

"Of course," said Warde, reflectively, "if it is true that
Beaumont-Greene borrowed this money to help a brother----"

He paused, staring at Lovell. From the bottom of a big heart he was
praying that Lovell would not lie.

"Beaumont-Greene certainly gave me to understand