Possibly it was because Mr. Trace had no duty to perform—for Gall and Loftus read the lessons—that his sight recreated itself with scanning the new scholars. Not so much the whole of them, and there were nine or ten, as one—George Paradyne. It was not a stare; Trace never stared; his eyes were drawn together so closely that even Paradyne himself could not have known he was being looked at; but nevertheless, so intent was Trace's gaze, so absorbed was he in the new face, that at the end of the _Te Deum_ he quite forgot to sit down, and remained standing, to the amusement of his friends. "I wonder if it _is_," spoke Trace to himself, as they left the chapel. And he inquired of two or three what that new fellow's name was, but could not learn it. "He's some crony of the new master's," spoke Powell; "I saw them shaking hands like mad. It'll be an awful shame for him to be put in our class, if he _is_ up in German." Trace had not waited to hear the conclusion; the boys were hastening to take their places in school. On this morning, until their state of advancement could be ascertained, the fresh boys were ordered to a bench opposite the first desk. Trace, who sat next to Loftus, directed his attention to this new boy. "Do you recognise him, Bertie?" he asked in a whisper. "Recognise him? no," drawled Mr. Loftus, as if it were entirely beneath him to recognise any new fellow. And he could think of nothing but his pistols. Which Dr. Brabazon had taken possession of. "Look at his face well," continued Trace. "Can you see no likeness to one you once knew?" "Not I." And this time Mr. Loftus did not speak until he had taken a good look at the boy. "Don't know the face from Adam." "Well, perhaps I am mistaken," mused Trace. "It's a long while since I saw the other." But, nevertheless, in spite of this conclusion, Trace could not keep his eyes off the face, and his studies suffered. The boy went up to Dr. Brabazon for examination, as it was usual for a new scholar to do; and Trace's ears were bent to catch the sound of the voice, if haply it might hear recognition for his memory. The head master found the boy thoroughly well advanced in his studies, and a suspicion arose in the school that he would be placed at the first desk. Loftus heard somebody say it, and elevated his eyebrows in displeasure. When the school rose, Trace went up to Mr. Baker. "I beg your pardon, sir; would you allow me to look for one minute at the roll?" "At the roll?—what for?" returned Mr. Baker, who was a little man with a bald head. "I think I know one of the new boys, sir. I want to see his name." There was no rule against showing the roll, and Mr. Baker took it out of his desk. Trace ran his finger down the new names—which were entered at the end until their places should be allotted—and it halted at one. "_George Paradyne!_" he mentally read. "Thank you, sir," he said aloud, with the quiet civility characteristic of him: and Mr. Baker locked up the roll again.