He read this note two or three times with grateful emotion, and at that moment would have died for Mr Rose. The third note was from Owen, as follows-- "Dear Williams--We have been cool to each other lately; naturally, perhaps. But yet I think that it will be some consolation to you to be told, even by a rival, that I, for one, feel certain of your innocence,--and, moreover, think that I can _prove_ it, as I will tell you in time. If you want company, I shall be delighted to have a walk.--Yours truly, D. Owen." This note, too, brought much comfort to the poor boy's lonely and passionate heart. He put it into his pocket, and determined at once to accept Mr Rose's kind offer of allowing him to sit for the present in the library. There were several boys in the room while he was reading his notes, but none of them spoke to him, and he was too proud to notice them, or interrupt the constrained silence. As he went out he met Duncan and Montagu, who at once addressed him in the hearing of the rest. "Ha! Williams," said Duncan, "we have been looking everywhere for you, old fellow. Cheer up, you shall be cleared yet. I for one, and Monty for another, will maintain your innocence before the whole school." Montagu _said_ nothing, but Eric understood full well the trustful kindness of his pressure of the hand. His heart was too full to speak, and he went on towards the library. "I wonder at your speaking to that fellow," said Ball, as the two newcomers joined the group at the fireplace. "You will be yourself ashamed of having ever suspected him before long," said Montagu warmly; "ay, the whole lot of you; and you are very unkind to condemn him before you are certain." "I wish you joy of your _friend_, Duncan," sneered Barker. "Friend?" said Duncan, firing up; "yes! he is my friend, and I'm not ashamed of him. It would be well for the school if _all_ the fellows were as honourable as Williams." Barker took the hint, and although he was too brazen to blush, thought it better to say no more. VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWELVE. THE TRIAL. A plot, a plot, a plot, to ruin all. _Tennyson, The Princess_. On the Monday evening the head-boy reported to Dr Rowlands that the perpetrator of the offence had not been discovered, but that one boy was very generally suspected, and on grounds that seemed plausible. "I admit," he added, "that from the little I know of him, he seems to me a very unlikely sort of boy to do it." "I think," suggested the Doctor, "that the best way would be for you to have a regular trial on the subject and hear the evidence. Do you think that you can be trusted to carry on the investigation publicly, with good order and fairness?" "I think so, sir," said Avonley. "Very well. Put up a notice, asking all the school to meet by themselves in the boarders' room to-morrow afternoon at three, and see what you can do among you."