The master revolved all this in his mind, and thought it very strange. He was determined to come to the bottom of it, and despatched Vaughan to Arkell's house to fetch him. The two boys came back together, and Mr. Wilberforce, without circumlocution, addressed the latter. "When this worthy companion of yours," waving his hand contemptuously towards Lewis, "locked you in the church, how did you get out?" Henry Arkell glanced at Lewis, and hesitated in his answer. "I can't tell, sir." "You can't tell!" exclaimed Mr. Wilberforce. "Did you walk out of it in your sleep? Did you get down from a window?--or through the locked door? How did you get out, I ask?" Before there was time for any reply, the master's servant entered, and said the Rev. Mr. Prattleton was waiting to speak to the master immediately. Mr. Wilberforce, leaving the study door open, went into the opposite room. Mr. Prattleton, who stood there, came forward eagerly. "Wilberforce, a thought has struck me, and I came in to suggest it. When the boy passed the night in the church, did he get playing with the register?" "He would not do it; Arkell would not," spoke the master, in the first flush of thought. "Not mischievously; but he may have got fingering anything he could lay his hands upon--and it is the most natural thing he would do, to while away the long hours. A spark may have fallen on the leaf, and----" "How could he get a light?--or find the key of the safe?" interrupted Mr. Wilberforce. "Schoolboys can ferret out anything, and he may have found its hiding-place. As to a light, half the boys keep matches in their pockets." Mr. Wilberforce mused upon the suggestion till it grew into a probability. He called in Arkell, and shut the door. "Now," said he, confronting him, "will you speak the truth to me, or will you not?" "I have hitherto spoken the truth to you, sir," answered Arkell, in a tone of pain. "Well; I believe you have: it would be bad for you now, if you had not. It is about that register, you know," added Mr. Wilberforce, speaking slowly, and staring at him. There was but one candle on the table, and Henry Arkell pulled out his handkerchief and rubbed it over his face: between the handkerchief and the dim light, the master failed to detect any signs of emotion. "Did you get fingering the register-book in St. James's, the night you were in the church?" "No, sir, that I did not," he readily answered. "Had you a light in the church?" "You boys have a propensity for concealing matches in your clothes, in defiance of the risk you run," interrupted Mr. Prattleton. "Had you any that night?" "I had no matches, and I had no light," replied Henry. "None of the boys keep matches about them except those who"--smoke, was the ominous word which had all but escaped his lips--"who are careless." "Pray what did you do with yourself all the time?" resumed the master. "I played the organ for a long while, and then I lay down on the singers' seat, and went to sleep."