It was all over in a flash. We gasped again. There was a moment of breathless silence. All eyes were on Stowell. He was face to face with the Principal, standing, in his larger proportions, a good two inches above him, ghastly white and trembling with passion. For a moment we thought anything might happen. Then Stowell appeared to recover his self-control. He made another little toss of the head, another curl of the lip and a shrug of the shoulders. "Now go back to your study, Sir," said the Principal, between gusts of breath, "and stay there until you are told to leave it." Stowell was in no hurry, but he turned after a moment and walked out, with a strong step, almost a haughty one. "Boys, go to your classes," said the Principal, in a hoarse voice, and then he went out, too, but more hurriedly. Something had gone wrong, wretchedly wrong, we scarcely knew what--that was our confused impression as we trooped off to the class-rooms, a dejected lot of lads, half furious, half afraid. II At seven o'clock that night Stowell was still confined to his study, a little, bare room, containing an iron bedstead, a deal washstand, a table, one chair, a trunk, some books on a hanging bookshelf, and a small rug before an iron fender. It was November and the day had been cold. Jamieson (the Principal's valet) had smuggled up some coal and lit a little fire for him. Mrs. Gale (the Principal's housekeeper), bringing his curtailed luncheon, had seen the long red wheal which the cane had left across the back of his neck, and insisted on cooling it with some lotion and bandaging it with linen. He was sitting alone in the half-darkness of his little room, crouching over the fire, gloomy, morose, fierce and with a burning sense of outraged justice. The door opened and another boy came into the room. It was Alick Gell, his special chum, a lad of his own age, but fair-haired, blue-eyed, and with rather feminine features. In a thick voice that was like a sob half-choked in his throat, he said, "Vic, I can't stand this any longer." "Oh, it's you, is it? I thought you'd come." "Of course you didn't do that disgraceful thing, as they call it, but you've got to know who did. It was I." Stowell did not answer. He had neither turned nor looked up, and Gell, standing behind him, tugged at his shoulders and said again, "Don't you hear me? It was I." "I know." "You know? How do you know? When did you know? Did you know this morning?" "I knew last night." Going into town he had seen Gell on the opposite side of the road. Yes, it was true enough he was out after hours. The Principal himself had sent him! Early in the day he had told him that after "prep" he was to go to the station for something. "Good Lord! Then he must have forgotten all about it!" "He had no business to forget." "Why didn't you tell him?" "Not I--not likely!"