It was the sharp, stinging tone in which the words were spoken and the warning look flashed from Varrell’s gray eyes as he uttered them that sent Dick flying from the house. In five minutes he was back again, having met the school doctor at the door of his office. Eddy was already reviving. “Come, let’s get away,” said Varrell, after they had watched operations for a few minutes in silence. “They don’t need us any longer.” The doors had hardly closed behind them when Melvin began fiercely, “Well?” “Well, what?” returned Varrell, coolly. “Why did you make me let that fellow go?” Varrell laughed. “Because Mr. Graham evidently wanted him to go. He had his wits about him if you had lost yours.” “But why?” persisted Dick. “Put yourself in his place and you’ll see,” retorted Varrell. “Bosworth, in the eyes of the law, is a felon. Mr. Graham cannot condone a criminal offence, and he doesn’t want the scandal of a public trial in the courts. Bosworth has helped us out by running away. He’ll never be seen again in this town. Now come up to the room, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Varrell’s prediction proved true. Bosworth disappeared suddenly and completely. His mother came a day or two later and spent a few hours in packing her son’s goods, and a few minutes in a sad interview with the Principal. The boys who had lost money had it restored to them through Mr. Graham, and the thieving in the dormitories ceased. The whereabouts of the wretched Bosworth remained for some time a mystery even to his mother. A year later, Vincent, who took his meals at Mrs. Bosworth’s in Cambridge, reported having seen a letter postmarked “Texas” addressed to his landlady in handwriting which he thought he recognized. In his last college vacation Marks ran across Bosworth himself among a set of gamblers offering bets at the professional ball games in Chicago. It is safe to say that they did not renew their acquaintance. Eddy, relieved of the burden of his secret, convalesced rapidly, and was soon taken home by his father. Fortunately for the repentant lad, Mr. Eddy, himself an old Seatonian, had a frank talk with Mr. Graham before seeing his son, which deprived the dreaded meeting of half its terrors. It was a new idea to Mr. Eddy that a boy might be driven to continue in an evil way from which he wished to escape, through fear of the uncompromising harshness with which his confession would be received. The parting word of the Principal sent the father home somewhat comforted by the thought that there might yet be a chance for the boy to retrieve himself in the old school.