“Not pass me?” said Hill.  “Fail me?”

“It’s the rule in all examinations.  Or where should we be?  What else did you expect?  You don’t want to shirk the consequences of your own acts?”

“I thought, perhaps——­” said Hill.  And then, “Fail me?  I thought, as I told you, you would simply deduct the marks given for that slip.”

“Impossible!” said Bindon.  “Besides, it would still leave you above Wedderburn.  Deduct only the marks!  Preposterous!  The Departmental Regulations distinctly say——­”

“But it’s my own admission, sir.”

“The Regulations say nothing whatever of the manner in which the matter comes to light.  They simply provide——­”

“It will ruin me.  If I fail this examination, they won’t renew my scholarship.”

“You should have thought of that before.”

“But, sir, consider all my circumstances——­”

“I cannot consider anything.  Professors in this College are machines.  The Regulations will not even let us recommend our students for appointments.  I am a machine, and you have worked me.  I have to do——­”

“It’s very hard, sir.”

“Possibly it is.”

“If I am to be failed this examination, I might as well go home at once.”

“That is as you think proper.”  Bindon’s voice softened a little; he perceived he had been unjust, and, provided he did not contradict himself, he was disposed to amelioration.  “As a private person,” he said, “I think this confession of yours goes far to mitigate your offence.  But you have set the machinery in motion, and now it must take its course.  I—­I am really sorry you gave way.”

A wave of emotion prevented Hill from answering.  Suddenly, very vividly, he saw the heavily-lined face of the old Landport cobbler, his father.  “Good God!  What a fool I have been!” he said hotly and abruptly.

“I hope,” said Bindon, “that it will be a lesson to you.”

But, curiously enough, they were not thinking of quite the same indiscretion.

There was a pause.

“I would like a day to think, sir, and then I will let you know—­about going home, I mean,” said Hill, moving towards the door.

* * * * *

The next day Hill’s place was vacant.  The spectacled girl in green was, as usual, first with the news.  Wedderburn and Miss Haysman were talking of a performance of The Meistersingers when she came up to them.

“Have you heard?” she said.

“Heard what?”

“There was cheating in the examination.”

“Cheating!” said Wedderburn, with his face suddenly hot.  “How?”

“That slide—­”

“Moved?  Never!”

“It was.  That slide that we weren’t to move—­”

“Nonsense!” said Wedderburn.  “Why!  How could they find out?  Who do they say—?”

“It was Mr. Hill.”

Hill!”

“Mr. Hill!”