“He could not tell anything; except that he would answer for the lay-clerks knowing nothing of the transaction. The master said he never supposed the lay-clerks did know anything of it, but he had his reasons for putting the question. He had been to the masons, too, who are repairing the cathedral; and they declared to the master, one and all, that they had not been into the vestry yesterday, or even round to that side of the college where the vestry is situated.” “Why should the master take it up so pertinaciously?” wondered Roland Yorke. “I’m sure I don’t know, sir. He was like one in a fever, so excited over it, Harper said.” “Did he talk to you about it, Jenkins?” asked Mr. Galloway. “I did not see him, sir; it was Harper told me afterwards,” was the reply of Jenkins, as he subsided to his writing again. Just at this juncture, who should come in view of the window but the head-master himself. He was passing it with a quick step, when out flew Mr. Galloway, and caught him by the button. Roland Yorke, who was ever glad of a pretext for idleness, rose from his stool, and pushed his nose close up to the nearest pane, to listen to any colloquy that might ensue; but, the window being open, he might have heard without leaving his seat. “I hear the boys have not a holiday to-day, Pye,” began Mr. Galloway. “No, that they have not,” emphatically pronounced the master; “and, if they go on as they seem to be going on now, I’ll keep them without it for a twelvemonth. I believe the inking of that surplice was a concocted plan, look you, Galloway, to--” “To what?” asked Mr. Galloway, for the master stopped short. “Never mind, just yet. I have my strong suspicions as to the guilty boy, and I am doing what I can to convert them into proofs. If it be as I suspect now, I shall expel him.” “But what could it have been done for?” debated Mr. Galloway. “There’s no point in the thing, that I can see, to ink and damage a surplice. If the boy to whom it belonged had been inked, one might not have wondered so much.” “I’ll ‘point him,’” cried the master, “if I catch the right one.” “Could it have been one of the seniors?” returned the proctor, all his strong interest awakened. “It was one who ought to have known better,” evasively returned the master. “I can’t stop to talk now, Galloway. I have an errand to do, and must be back to duty at ten.” He marched off quickly, and Mr. Galloway came indoors again. “Is that the way you get on with your business, Mr. Yorke?” Yorke clattered to his desk. “I’ll get on with it, sir. I was listening to what the master said.” “It does not concern you, what he said. It was not one of your brothers who did it, I suppose?” “No, that it was not,” haughtily spoke Roland Yorke, drawing up his head with a proud, fierce gesture.