Linton stared blankly across the school grounds. Then he burst into a sudden yell of laughter. On that very morning the senior day-room was going to court-martial Sheen for disgracing the house. The resolution had been passed on the previous afternoon, probably just as he was putting the finishing touches to the "most popular victory of the day's programme". "This," said Linton, "is rich." He grubbed a little hole in one of Mr Seymour's flower-beds, and laid the _Sportsman_ to rest in it. The news would be about the school at nine o'clock, but if he could keep it from the senior day-room till the brief interval between breakfast and school, all would be well, and he would have the pure pleasure of seeing that backbone of the house make a complete ass of itself. A thought struck him. He unearthed the _Sportsman_, and put it in his pocket. He strolled into the senior day-room after breakfast. "Any one seen the _Sporter_ this morning?" he inquired. No one had seen it. "The thing hasn't come," said some one. "Good!" said Linton to himself. At this point Stanning strolled into the room. "I'm a witness," he said, in answer to Linton's look of inquiry. "We're doing this thing in style. I depose that I saw the prisoner cutting off on the--whatever day it was, when he ought to have been saving our lives from the fury of the mob. Hadn't somebody better bring the prisoner into the dock?" "I'll go," said Linton promptly. "I may be a little time, but don't get worried. I'll bring him all right." He went upstairs to Sheen's study, feeling like an _impresario_ about to produce a new play which is sure to create a sensation. Sheen was in. There was a ridge of purple under his left eye, but he was otherwise intact. "'Gratulate you, Sheen," said Linton. For an instant Sheen hesitated. He had rehearsed this kind of scene in his mind, and sometimes he saw himself playing a genial, forgiving, let's-say-no-more-about-it-we-all-make-mistakes-but-in-future! role, sometimes being cold haughty, and distant, and repelling friendly advances with icy disdain. If anybody but Linton had been the first to congratulate him he might have decided on this second line of action. But he liked Linton, and wanted to be friendly with him. "Thanks," he said. Linton sat down on the table and burst into a torrent of speech. "You _are_ a man! What did you want to do it for? Where the dickens did you learn to box? And why on earth, if you can win silver medals at Aldershot, didn't you box for the house and smash up that sidey ass Stanning? I say, look here, I suppose we haven't been making idiots of ourselves all the time, have we?" "I shouldn't wonder," said Sheen. "How?" "I mean, you did--What I mean to say is--Oh, hang it, _you_ know! You did cut off when we had that row in the town, didn't you?" "Yes," said Sheen, "I did." With that medal in his pocket it cost him no effort to make the confession.