Some person or persons unknown, it appeared, had invaded the Study, and had embellished the features of a bust of Julius Cæsar, which stood on the mantelpiece, with some assorted coloured chalks, which further investigation proved to have been stolen from the chalk-box by the blackboard. Mr. Pocklington, who was not blessed with a sense of humour, sought to drive home the enormity of this offence by ocular demonstration. He rang the bell; and after a short but impressive pause the door of the schoolroom was thrown open by the pageboy, and the butler staggered majestically in, carrying Julius Cæsar on a tea-tray. That empire-builder's "make-up" could hardly be called a becoming one. A red nose gave him a bibulous appearance, his blue chin suggested late rising and the absence of a razor, and a highly unsymmetrical moustache, executed in mauve chalk, stood out in vivid contrast to his blackened right eye. It says much for the impression which Mr. Pocklington's introductory harangue had produced that not a child in the room so much as smiled. The perspiring butler having set down his alcoholic-looking burden upon a small table and withdrawn, attended by his satellite,--the only person present, by the way, who appeared inclined to regard the situation with levity,--Mr. Pocklington once more addressed his cowering audience. "I will now ask the perpetrator of this outrage," he thundered, "to stand up, that I may punish him as he deserves." The little girls all shivered with apprehension, but one or two little boys looked slightly amused. They were not very old or experienced, but they were not green enough to join gratuitously in a game of "Dilly, Dilly, come and be killed!" Mr. Pocklington played his next card. "I may add," he continued, "that a boy was seen to leave the Study in a surreptitious manner shortly after this offence must have been committed. No one has entered the Study since. That boy, therefore, must be the culprit. If he does not immediately respond to the dictates of his conscience and stand up in his place--I shall expose him! Now, please!" There was a death-like silence, suddenly broken by piercing shrieks from one Gwendoline Harvey, aged seven, for whose infant nerves the strain had proved too great. "Please, it wasn't me," she wailed, "and--and--and I've lost my hankey!" Tender-hearted Miss Arabella supplied the deficiency, and led her out, still sobbing. The inquisition was resumed. "I shall give the culprit one more minute," announced Mr. Pocklington in the tones of a Grand Inquisitor. There was another tense silence. The inmates of Wentworth House School breathed hard, looked straight before them, and waited with their small mouths wide open. One or two little girls--and small boys, for that matter--gripped the benches convulsively, and with difficulty refrained from screaming. "The minute has elapsed," proclaimed the Grand Inquisitor. "Philip, stand up!"