“None at all.  The Shell-boys are to show their books to Mr. Ready immediately.”

The head-boy of the Shell collected the books, and took them to the desk; the three masters glanced casually at about a dozen, and suddenly stopped at one.  Eric’s heart beat loud, as his saw Mr. Rose point towards him.

“We have discovered a handwriting which remarkably resembles that on the board.  I give the offender one more chance of substituting confession for detection.”

No one stirred; but Montagu felt that his friend was trembling violently.

“Eric Williams, stand out in the room.”

Blushing scarlet, and deeply agitated, the boy obeyed

“The writing on the notice is exactly like yours.  Do you know anything of this shameful proceeding?”

“Nothing, sir,” he murmured in a low tone.

“Nothing whatever?”

“Nothing whatever, sir.”

Dr. Rowlands’ look searched him through and through, and seemed to burn into his heart.  He did not meet it, but hung his head.  The Doctor felt certain from his manner that he was guilty.  He chained him to the spot with his glance for a minute or two, and then said slowly, and with a deep sigh—­

“Very well; I hope you have spoken the truth; but whether you have or no, we shall soon discover.  The school, and especially the upper boys, will remember what I have said.  I shall now tear down the insulting notice, and put it into your hands, Avonley, as head of the school, that you may make further inquiries.”  He left the room, and the boys resumed their usual avocation till twelve o’clock.  But poor Eric could hardly get through his ordinary pursuits; he felt sick and giddy, until everybody noticed his strange embarrassed manner, and random answers.

No sooner had twelve o’clock struck, than the whole school broke up into knots of buzzing and eager talkers.

“I wonder who did it,” said a dozen voices at once.

“The writing was undoubtedly Williams’,” suggested some.

“And did you notice how red and pale he got when the Doctor spoke to him, and how he hung his head?”

“Yes; and one knows how he hates Gordon.”

“Ay; by the bye, Gordon set him a Georgic only on Thursday, and he has been swearing at him ever since.”

“I noticed that he stayed in after all the rest last night,” said Barker.

“Did he?  By Jove, that looks bad.”

“Has any one charged him with it?” asked Duncan.

“Yes,” answered one of the group:  “but he’s as proud about it as Lucifer, and is furious if you mention it to him.  He says we ought to know him better than to think him capable of such a thing.”

“And quite right, too,” said Duncan.  “If he did it, he’s done something totally unlike what one would have believed possible of him.”