The awkward, big, ungainly boy, with his repulsive countenance, shambled out of his place into the middle of the room. Mr Rose swept him with one flashing glance. "_That_ is the boy," thought he to himself, "who has been like an ulcer to this school. These boys shall have a good look at their hero." It was but recently that Mr Rose knew all the harm which Brigson had been doing, though he had discovered, almost from the first, what _sort_ of character he had. So Brigson stood out in the room, and as they looked at him, many a boy cursed him in their hearts. And it was _that_ fellow, that stupid, clumsy, base compound of meanness and malice, that had ruled like a king among them. Faugh! "They call your name! Do you know anything of this?" "No!" said Brigson: "I'll swear I'd nothing to do with it." "Oh-h-h-h!"--the long, intense, deep-drawn expression of disgust and contempt ran round the room. "You have told me a lie!" said Mr Rose slowly, and with strong contempt. "No words can express my loathing for your false and dishonourable conduct. Nor shall your lie save you, as you shall find immediately. Still you shall escape if you can or dare to deny it again. I repeat my question--Were you engaged in this?" He fixed his full, piercing eye on the culprit, whom it seemed to scorch and wither. Brigson winced back, and said nothing. "As I thought," said Mr Rose. "Not one boy only, but many were engaged. I shall call you up one by one to answer me. Wildney, come here." The boy walked in front of the desk. "Were you one of those who threw?" Wildney, full as he was of dangerous and deadly faults, was no coward, and not a liar. He knew, or at least feared, that this new scrape might be fatal to him, but raising his dark and glistening eyes to Mr Rose, he said penitently-- "I didn't throw, sir, but I _did_ put out one of the candles that it might be done." The contrast with Brigson was very great; the dark cloud hung a little less darkly on Mr Rose's forehead, and there was a very faint murmur of applause. "Good stand back. Pietrie, come up." Pietrie, too, confessed, and indeed all the rest of the plotters except Booking. Mr Rose's lip curled with scorn as he heard the exclamation which his denial caused; but he suffered him to sit down. When Wright's turn came to be asked, Mr Rose said--"No! I shall not even ask you, Wright. I know well that your character is too good to be involved in such an attempt." The boy bowed humbly, and sat down. Among the last questioned was Vernon Williams, and Mr Rose seemed anxious for his answer. "No," he said at once,--and seemed to wish to add something. "Go on," said Mr Rose encouragingly. "Oh, sir! I only wanted to say that I hope you won't think Eric knew of this. He would have hated it, sir, more even than I do."