Up went the birch, and came down again on its hard end. Dr. Brabazon was by no means a choleric man; but he could be so when greatly provoked. "Mr. Henry—no, don't rise, don't quit your place—of what height was the boy you saw running away?" The Doctor's voice—a sonorous voice at all times—went rolling down the spacious room to the opposite corner, where Mr. Henry sat behind his desk. The latter hesitated in his reply, and the boys turned their eyes from the Head Master to him. "I cannot say positively, sir," was the foreign master's answer. "It was so momentary a glimpse that I caught." "Yet you met him—as I am given to understand—face to face!" "I did; but he glided aside at once amidst the trees. He was of a good height." "Tall enough for a senior boy?" "Yes, certainly: I think so." The birch agitated itself gently, as if the Doctor's hand shook a little, and he looked full at the first desk, regarding those seated at it in individual turn. "I thought I could have _trusted_ you all; I deemed there was not one of you that I might not have relied upon. Gall, did you do this? I ask you chiefly for form's sake, for you had not come back to college. Did you fire, by accident or design, this pistol off in the plantation last night?" "No, sir, I did not," replied Gall, slightly rising in his place to answer. "Did you, Loftus major?" The exceeding satire of the question, as addressed to him, the wronged owner of the abstracted weapon, nearly struck Loftus major dumb. "Of course I did not, sir," he said, after a pause. "Did you go out of college after prayers?" "No." "Trace, did you go out of college after prayers, and fire off this pistol?" "No, sir." And Trace's usual civility of tone was marked by a dash of remonstrance at being asked. Suspect him, Mr. Trace, the model fellow of the school! What next? "Irby, did you?" "I, sir! No, sir. It wasn't me, sir." "Fullarton, did you?" "I did not get back until this morning, sir." "True. Brown major, did you do it?" Brown Major, a simple fellow in most things, but with a rare capacity for Latin and Greek, opened his eyes in pure wonder. "Please, sir, I never fired off a pistol in my life, sir. I shouldn't know how to do it, sir." And so on. Not a boy at the first desk acknowledged it; and they numbered twelve. The Doctor glanced at the second desk; some tall boys were there; but he said no more. Perhaps he thought suspicion did not lie with them; perhaps he would not afford them opportunity of telling a falsehood. "It seems, then, I am not to be told. Well,"—and he turned particularly to the seniors—"I must believe that some mystery attaches to this affair, and that not one of you is guilty. I will trust you still, as I have ever done: only—do not let it come to my knowledge later that my trust is a mistaken one." He flung up the lower compartment of his table, put in the birch, and shut it down with a bang. An uncomfortable feeling was on the Head Master that day.