Two things only were settled in Mr. Brandiston’s mind. One was that he would probe the mystery of the stolen paper to the bottom. The other was that, if possible, he would probe it himself alone. He felt that it would be unjust to Gerald Eversley--may it not be added, unjust to Mr. Brandiston’s house?--to let anybody else know his suspicion of foul play. It was pretty obvious that the only chance of throwing light upon the mystery lay through Gerald Eversley himself. If he were guilty, he might be induced to make a confession, or there might be found in his room some evidence of his guilt. Mr. Brandiston resolved therefore--I do not know whether his resolution would be justified in the circumstances by schoolboy public opinion or not--to make an examination of his room late at night. It was past midnight when he entered the room. Gerald was fast asleep. Mr. Brandiston surveyed the room. He looked at a blotting-case that was lying on the table, and some papers, one of them the very examination paper done the day before; took down one or two books, a Cicero or a part of Cicero among them, from the shelves; picked up some fragments of paper that had fallen to the floor, and read them carefully. There was nothing. Mr. Brandiston, not wishing to awake Gerald, felt he must retire baffled, yet somewhat relieved. Gerald Eversley was not a favourite of Mr. Brandiston; but he was after all a member of Mr. Brandiston’s house, and the good name of the house was involved in the proof of his innocence. It was with this feeling that Mr. Brandiston was closing the door of the room when his eye lighted upon some pieces of paper, more or less charred, that were lying, as if by accident, under the grate. One of them seemed to contain some printed matter. He stooped down and picked them up. They were all fragments of letters or exercises--all except that one. What was Mr. Brandiston’s horror when he perceived that the little bit of paper which he held in his hand was the corner of the same examination paper as the one that was lying on the table! It seemed to be the irresistible conclusion that somebody had intended to destroy the paper, and with that object had put it on the fire, but that this one fragment of it had fallen out of the grate before being consumed in the flames. And that somebody--who could it be but Gerald Eversley? Mr. Brandiston shut the door with a heavy heart. He returned to his study and sat down in his armchair. What was he to do next? Suddenly it occurred to him that the burnt paper might be Pomfret’s. He and Eversley might have been comparing notes (though this was unlikely as they were not intimate friends); he might have left his paper in Eversley’s room, and Eversley might have thrown it into the fire.