“It’s a curious story,” said Professor Bindon, slowly realising how the thing reflected on himself, and then letting his anger rise. “A most remarkable story. I can’t understand your doing it, and I can’t understand this avowal. You’re a type of student—Cambridge men would never dream—I suppose I ought to have thought—Why _did_ you cheat?” “I didn’t—cheat,” said Hill. “But you have just been telling me you did.” “I thought I explained—” “Either you cheated or you did not cheat.” “I said my motion was involuntary—” “I am not a metaphysician, I am a servant of science—of fact. You were told not to move the slip. You did move the slip. If that is not cheating—” “If I was a cheat,” said Hill, with the note of hysterics in his voice, “should I come here and tell you?” “Your repentance, of course, does you credit,” said Professor Bindon; “but it does not alter the original facts.” “No, sir,” said Hill, giving in, in utter self-abasement. “Even now you cause an enormous amount of trouble. The examination list will have to be revised.” “I suppose so, sir.” “Suppose so! Of course it must be revised. And I don’t see how I can conscientiously pass you.” “Not pass me!” said Hill. “Fail me!” “It’s the rule in all examinations. Or where should we be? What else did you expect? You don’t want to shirk the consequences of your own acts?” “I thought perhaps,” said Hill. And then, “Fail me! I thought, as I told you, you would simply deduct the marks given for that slip—” “Impossible!” said Bindon. “Besides, it would still leave you above Wedderburn. Deduct only the marks! Preposterous! The Departmental Regulations distinctly say—” “But it’s my own admission, sir.” “The Regulations say nothing whatever of the manner in which the matter comes to light. They simply provide—” “It will ruin me. If I fail this examination, they won’t renew my scholarship.” “You should have thought of that before.” “But, sir, consider all my circumstances—” “I cannot consider anything. Professors in this College are machines. The Regulations will not even let us recommend our students for appointments. I am a machine, and you have worked me. I have to do—” “It’s very hard, sir.” “Possibly it is.” “If I am to be failed this examination I might as well go home at once.” “That is as you think proper.” Bindon’s voice softened a little, he perceived he had been unjust, and, provided he did not contradict himself, he was disposed to amelioration. “As a private person,” he said, “I think this confession of yours goes far to mitigate your offence. But you have set the machinery in motion, you know, and now it must take its course. I—I am really sorry you gave way.” A wave of emotion prevented Hill from answering. Suddenly very vividly he saw the heavily-lined face of the old Landport cobbler, his father. “Good God!—What a fool I have been!” he said hotly and abruptly. “I hope,” said Bindon, “that it will be a lesson to you.”