Nobody answered: the boys were too lazy, or the cigars too exacting. That Brown major had a trick of bringing up unpleasant topics. He asked again. "He had no business to be put in our class," said Savage at length. "Jove, no! But that wasn't his fault." "An outsider and all," continued Savage. "It's the second desk, though, that are making the set at him." "What has he done to them?" "Bother!" said Savage, who was in some difficulty about his cigar. Brown major was not to be put down; talking was more convenient than smoking just now. "Do you know, Trace?" "It's no affair of mine," replied Trace coldly, and Irby exchanged a meaning glance with him in the starlight. "This beastly cigar won't draw at all," exclaimed Savage. "No, they won't," assented Fullarton, in much wrath; "and I paid threepence apiece for them." For the treat this evening was his. "It's a regular swindle." "The best cigars—" "Hist! Who's that?" The warning came from Trace. Not being occupied as the rest were, his attention was awake, and a sound like a cough had caught his ear from underneath the window. Out went the heads and the cigars, which was a great want of caution. On the gravel walk below, pacing about before the Head Master's study, whose large bay window abutted outwards, was Mr. Henry. "Take care, you fellows," murmured Trace; "it's that German spy." In came the cigars. The boys, snatching them from their lips, held them behind, back-handed, and put out their heads again. "What makes you call him a spy, Trace?" whispered Loftus. "Because I know he is one. Mind! he saw the cigars: I watched him look up. I wonder what he is doing there." The idea of a spy in the school—and he one of the masters—was not at all an agreeable prospect, and the smokers felt a sort of chill. "How do you know he is one, Trace?" asked Brown major. "That's my business. I tell you that he _is_, and that's enough. I'd give half a crown to know what he is walking there for! He can't have any business there." For the walk was a solitary walk, not leading to any particular spot; of course open to the inmates of the college, but nobody ever thought of going there at night. Hence the wonder. Perhaps its solitude may have made its attraction for Mr. Henry: quiet and still it lay, underneath the stars, but a minute or two's distance from his lodgings. The boys, peeping out still with hushed breath, saw him presently stroll away in the direction of his home, making no sign that he had observed them. "Mark you," said Fullarton, much put out, "the fellow has stationed himself in those low-lived rooms of Mother Butter's to be a spy upon us. Trace is right."