boy, not indeed in crape, but amid
every sign of mourning.

We young gentlemen were not invited. Had we been, it is doubtful
whether the alacrity with which some of us would have obeyed the summons
would have been altogether complimentary to the memory of the deceased.

As it was, we loafed about dismally, discussing the topic of the hour in
corners, and wished the storm would break and be done with.

We had not long to wait!

CHAPTER TWO.

A CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE.

As for me, I was very poor company for any one that afternoon of
Hector's funeral. Something was burning a hole in my pocket, and I felt
myself in a most uncomfortable fix.

"It's all up with old Dux," said I to myself, "if it's found out. But
suppose it's found on me? Still more precious awkward. I'd either have
to lump it or let out. Don't see much fun in either myself. Seems to
me the sooner I get rid of the beastly thing the better. Fancy his
letting it lie about in his locker! He'd give me a hiding for
interfering, I know, if he only knew. But I wouldn't for anything he
got lagged. Old Dux is one of those chaps that has to be backed up
against himself. Sha'n't be my fault if he isn't."

The reader will have judged by this time that I belonged to the species
prig in my youthful days. Let that pass; I was not a unique specimen.

Full of my noble resolve of saving the Dux from himself, I went out to
take the air, and strolled aimlessly in the direction of the pond. A
professional burglar could not have ordered his footsteps more
circumspectly. I perambulated the pool, whistling a cheerful tune, and
looking attentively at the rooks overhead. Not a soul was in sight. I
began to throw stones into the water, small to begin with, then larger,
then bits of stick about six inches long. Then I smuggled the unlucky
pistol out of my pocket in my handkerchief, and whistled still more
cheerfully. Although no one was looking, it seemed prudent to adopt an
air of general boredom, as if I was tired of throwing sticks into the
pond. I would only throw one more. Even that was a fag, but I would do
it.

What a plump, noisy splash it made, sending out circles far and near,
and gurgling in a sickening way as it sank in a very unsticklike fashion
to the bottom.

My whistling ceased, my air of dejection increased. I must be
unsociable no longer. Let me rejoin my dear schoolfellows, making a
little _detour_ in order to appear to reach th