"No, I won't do that, Perkins," Frank said, "it's known in the house; besides, if I am asked I must say it's me. Thank you for your offer. I will see you again in a day or two." Frank walked back to his boarding-house, moody and dejected. Harris was in his room working. Frank told him what had happened. "This is a bad business indeed," Harris said. "By Jove! if it comes out, Litter would expel the four of us. What is to be done? I am sure I don't know." "I don't see where I am to get ten pounds; I have only got fifteen shillings now." "I have only seven and sixpence," Harris said. "I have paid Shotten's bill for last term this week, and I know that Travers and James have not much more than I have. We might get something on our watches; but they are all silver, and I don't suppose we could get more than a pound apiece for them. But still that's something, and with our united silver would make up six pounds." "I could get a pound or two from my cousin," Frank said; "Fred always seems to be well supplied with money." "Because he never spends any," Harris said. "I am mistaken if Barkley will lend you anything." "Oh, he will lend it if he's got it." But Harris turned out to be right. After the next school Frank laid the case before his cousin, who listened in silence to the story. "I am very sorry, Frank," he said when he had finished, "but I am entirely out of money at present." "I thought you always had money," Frank said shortly. "Not always," Fred replied quietly. "As you know, I am fond of books, and last week I paid my bill for that edition of Shakespeare that you were admiring." Fred Barkley had indeed a library of books of which he was very proud, and which was worth more than all those belonging to the rest of the boys up College together. Frank was too proud to suggest that his cousin could, if he chose, easily raise the amount required on a few of his favourites, and left the room without saying a word. Fred Barkley did not continue the work upon which he was engaged after his cousin had left the room, but sat looking fixedly at the papers before him. "This is a grand opportunity," he muttered to himself, "and I should be a fool if I let it slip. The question is, how is it best to be managed. I should be an idiot indeed if I cannot put a spoke into Master Frank's wheel somehow." The next day the Sixth Form, as usual, went into the library to do their construing. Dr. Litter, according to his usual custom, walked up and down hearing them and asking questions, the form sitting at their desks, which ran round the room. The Doctor was a fidgety man, and was always either twirling his watch-chain or eye-glass, or rattling the keys, knife, and other articles in his trousers pockets. Being perfectly conscious of the habit, he often emptied the contents of his pocket on to the table before starting to walk about the room, and this he did on the present occasion.