yards or so before he answered. Then he
yelled, in a voice half-choked with excitement, "The line was cut! It's
foul play!"

The howl which arose from the agitated crowd at this amazing piece of
news--amazing even to those who had most freely raised the cry of foul
play--was one the like of which Willoughby never heard before or since.
Mingled rage, scorn, incredulity, derision, all found vent in that one
shout--and then suddenly died into silence as Parson began again.

"They've looked at the place where it broke," he gasped. "It's a clean
cut half-way through. I knew it was foul play!"

Once again the shout drowned his voice.

"Who did it?" shrieked a voice, before Parson could resume.

Parson glared round wrathfully for the speaker.

"I don't know," he replied. "Sorry for him if I did!"

This valiant invective from the honest little fag failed even to appear
ludicrous in the midst of the general excitement. Further words were
now interrupted by the appearance of the Parretts' crew coming slowly up
the walk.

This was the signal for a general cheer and rush in their direction, in
the midst of which the defeated heroes with difficulty struggled up to
the school. Wrath and indignation were on all their faces. In reply to
the hundred inquiries showered upon them they said nothing, but forced
their way through the press sullenly, heedless of the cheers of their
sympathisers or the silence of their opponents.

The crowd slowly fell back to let them pass, and watched them disappear
into the school. Then they turned again towards the path from the
river, and waited with grim purpose.

The news announced by Parson and confirmed by the black looks of the
injured crew had fallen like a thunderbolt, and for the moment
Willoughby was stunned. The boys could not--would not--believe that one
of their number could be guilty of such an act. And yet, how could they
disbelieve it?

In a few minutes there was a cry of "Here they are!" and at the same
moment the schoolhouse crew appeared on the walk. They, victors though
they were, looked troubled and dispirited as they approached, talking
eagerly among themselves, and unconcerned apparently about the crowd
which in ominous silence awaited them.

They certainly did not look like guilty persons, and it is most probable
not even the wildest libeller in Willoughby would have cared positively
to charge any one of them with the dishonourable deed.

But for all that