The extraordinary revelation, that the disputed marriage had taken place at St. James the Less, and lain recorded all those years unsuspiciously in the register, with the still more extraordinary fact that it had been mysteriously taken out of it, electrified Westerbury. The news flew from one end of the city to the other, and back again, and sideways, and everywhere. But not until late in the evening was it carried to Peter Arkells. Cookesley, the second senior of the school, went in to see Henry, and told it; and then, for the first time, Henry found that the abstraction of the leaf had reference to the great cause--Carr versus Carr. "Will Mrs. Carr lose her verdict through it?" he asked of Cookesley. "Of course she will. There's no proof of the leaf's having been taken out. If they could only prove that, she'd gain it; and very unjust it will be upon her, poor thing! We had such a game in school!" added Cookesley, passing to private interests. "Wilberforce was at the court all the afternoon, giving evidence; and Roberts wanted to domineer over us upper boys; as if we'd let him! He was so savage." Cookesley departed. Henry had his head down on the table: Mrs. Arkell supposed it ached, and bade him go to bed. He apparently did not hear her; and presently started up and took his trencher. "Where are you going?" she asked, in surprise. "Only to Prattleton's. I want to speak to George." "But, Henry----" Remonstrance was useless. He had already gone. Prattleton senior came to the door to him. "George? George is at Griffin's; Griffin has got a bachelor's party. Whatever do you want with him? I say, Arkell, have you heard of the row in school this morning? The dean came in about that medal business--what a fool Aultane junior was for splitting!--and St. John spoke about one of the fellows having been at Rutterley's on Saturday, trying to pledge a spoon with the Aultane crest upon it: he didn't say actually the crest was the Aultanes', or that the fellow was Aultane, but his manner let us know it. Wasn't Aultane in a way! He said afterwards that if he had had a pistol ready capped and loaded, he should have shot himself, or the dean, or St. John, or somebody else. Serve him right for his false tongue! There'll be an awful row yet. I know I'd shoot myself, before I'd go and peach to the dean!" But Prattleton was wasting his words on air. Henry had flown on to Griffin's--the house in the grounds formerly occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Lewis. The Reverend Mr. Griffin was the old minor canon, with the cracked voice, and it was his son and heir who was holding the bachelor's party. George Prattleton came out. There ensued a short, sharp colloquy--Henry insisting upon being released from his promise; George Prattleton, whom the suggestion had startled nearly out of his senses, refusing to allow him to divulge anything. "She'll not get her cause," said Henry, "unless I speak. It will be awfully unjust."