“It _was_ Dunster, sir. I got a letter from him only five minutes ago, in which he said that he had painted Sammy--Sampson, the dog, sir, for a rag--for a joke, and that, as he didn’t want any one here to get into a row--be punished for it, I’d better tell Mr. Downing at once. I tried to find Mr. Downing, but he wasn’t in the house. Then I met Smith outside the house, and he told me that Mr. Downing had gone over to see you, sir.” “Smith told you?” said Mr. Downing. “Yes, sir.” “Did you say anything to him about your having received this letter from Dunster?” “I gave him the letter to read, sir.” “And what was his attitude when he had read it?” “He laughed, sir.” “_Laughed!_” Mr. Downing’s voice was thunderous. “Yes, sir. He rolled about.” Mr. Downing snorted. “But Adair,” said the headmaster, “I do not understand how this thing could have been done by Dunster. He has left the school.” “He was down here for the Old Sedleighans’ match, sir. He stopped the night in the village.” “And that was the night the--it happened?” “Yes, sir.” “I see. Well, I am glad to find that the blame cannot be attached to any boy in the school. I am sorry that it is even an Old Boy. It was a foolish, discreditable thing to have done, but it is not as bad as if any boy still at the school had broken out of his house at night to do it.” “The sergeant,” said Mr. Downing, “told me that the boy he saw was attempting to enter Mr. Outwood’s house.” “Another freak of Dunster’s, I suppose,” said the headmaster. “I shall write to him.” “If it was really Dunster who painted my dog,” said Mr. Downing, “I cannot understand the part played by Smith in this affair. If he did not do it, what possible motive could he have had for coming to me of his own accord and deliberately confessing?” “To be sure,” said the headmaster, pressing a bell. “It is certainly a thing that calls for explanation. Barlow,” he said, as the butler appeared, “kindly go across to Mr. Outwood’s house and inform Smith that I should like to see him.” “If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in the hall.” “In the hall!” “Yes, sir. He arrived soon after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he would wait, as you would probably wish to see him shortly.” “H’m. Ask him to step up, Barlow.” “Yes, sir.” There followed one of the tensest “stage waits” of Mike’s experience. It was not long, but, while it lasted, the silence was quite solid. Nobody seemed to have anything to say, and there was not even a clock in the room to break the stillness with its ticking. A very faint drip-drip of rain could be heard outside the window. Presently there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door was opened. “Mr. Smith, sir.”