But to Wraysford and one or two others it occurred in a different light. If Oliver had really won the Nightingale in the manner every one suspected, he would hardly now boldly enter for another examination, in which he might possibly not succeed, and so prove those suspicions to be true. For the subjects were almost exactly the same as those examined in for the Nightingale, and unless Oliver did as well here as he did there--and that was _remarkably_ well--it would be open for anybody to say, "Of course--he couldn't steal the paper this time, that's why!" Wraysford, as he thought over it, became more and more uneasy and ashamed of himself. One moment he persuaded himself Oliver was a hypocrite, and the next that he was innocent. "At any rate," said he to himself, "this examination will settle it." In due time the examination day came, and once more the three rivals heard their names called upon to come forward and occupy that memorable front desk in the Sixth Form room. This time at any rate there had been no chance for any one to take an unfair advantage, for the Doctor's papers did not reach Saint Dominic's till the morning of the examination. Indeed, Mr Jellicott was opening the envelope which contained them when the boys entered the room. Any one closely observing the three boys as they glanced each down his paper would once more have been struck by the strange contrast in their faces. Oliver's, as his eyes glanced rapidly down the page, was composed and immovable; Wraysford's, as he looked first at his paper and then hurriedly at Oliver and Loman, was perplexed and troubled; Loman's was blank and pale and desponding. But of the three, the happiest that morning was Wraysford--not that he was sure of success, not that his conscience was clear of all reproach, but because, as he sat there, working hard himself and hearing some one's pen on his left flying with familiar sound quickly over the paper, he felt at last absolutely sure that he had misjudged his friend, and equally resolved that, come what would of it, and humiliating as the confession would be, he would, before that day ended, be reconciled to Oliver Greenfield. What mattered it to him, then, who won the exhibition? Loman might win it for all _he_ cared, as long as he won back his friend. However, Loman at that moment did not look much like winning anything. If he had been in difficulties in the former examination, he was utterly stranded now. He tried first one question, then another, but no inspiration seemed to come; and at last, after dashing off a few lines at random, he laid down his pen, and, burying his face in his hands, gave himself up to his own wretched thoughts. He must see Cripps soon; he must go to him or Cripps would come up to Saint Dominic's, and then-- Well, Loman did not do much execution that morning, and was thankful when presently Mr Jellicott said, "Time will be up in five minutes, boys."