Biggington muttered something unintelligible, which it would be the height of charity to consider a good word, as he continued--“What do you mean to do, then?” “Put a small boy through it, who shall open the back door into the school-room for us, whereby we shall enter and walk up to bed,” returned Norman, stroking the raven down on his upper lip, where the “cavalry moustache” was just beginning to show itself. “And what chance is there of finding a boy whom you can trust to do such a thing?” asked Biggington, gloomily. “He is already found, or I am much mistaken,” was the answer. “Moreover, properly handled, he’ll do the thing well, and _con amore_; I’d sooner work with _one_ willing agent than with twenty forced ones.” “And his name?” “The younger Colville.” Biggington mused. “He might do it; but his brother will not allow him,” he said after a pause. “His brother will have no voice in the matter, for he will know nothing about it,” returned Norman; “but you shall judge for yourselves, for I have appointed the boy to come to me here. Only leave me to talk to him, and don’t bully or frighten the little fellow, else you will defeat your own object. If, when you have seen him, you wish me to persevere with the plan, Biggington, stroke your chin thus.” As Norman raised his hand to indicate the appointed signal, a modest tap at the door was audible, and, on the bolt being withdrawn, Hugh made his appearance, and, at a sign from Norman, entered. The door was closed and fastened by Terry, who resumed his scat on the inverted wash-hand basin, with the air of a monarch ascending his throne. Hugh bore the scrutiny to which all the plotters, Biggington in particular, subjected him, unflinchingly; he looked rather more grave and anxious than was his wont, but did not appear intimidated or abashed, though he stood in the awful presence of the cock of the school. “Come here, Colville,” began Norman; then, as the boy approached, he continued, fixing his piercing glance upon him, “have you mentioned what we were talking about this morning to anybody?” “No, sir,” was the unhesitating reply. “Not to your brother, eyen? don’t attempt to deceive me!” “No, indeed, sir, I would not tell a lie; if I had mentioned it to Percy, I’d say so at once,” returned Hugh, colouring at his assertion being doubted. “I believe you,” replied Norman, glancing towards Biggington as he spoke to attract his attention. “I am sure you are a brave, honourable boy, who would neither tell a lie nor betray a secret, which is worse, if anything.”