"Ask a policeman," replied the ribald official. "You've had a short time and a merry one, my young gentleman; but it's over at last." "But I never--" "Sharp's the word!" interrupted he. "You'd better cut," said the Philosophers. "We'll give you a lift if we can." It was poor consolation, but such as it was I valued it. Never a criminal walked to the gallows with as heavy a heart as I followed the school messenger across the quadrangle and past the fated gymnasium to the head master's study. There I found four people waiting to see me. Tempest looking very sullen, the head master looking very grave, Mr Jarman looking very vicious, and a policeman looking very cheerful. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. BEFORE THE "BEAK." At the sight of the policeman I gave myself up for lost. The sins and errors of my youth all rose in a hideous procession before me. I recalled vividly the occasion when, years ago, I had borrowed Dicky Brown's "nicker" without acknowledgment, and lost it. I recalled a dismal series of assaults and libels in my guardian's office. I recollected with horror once travelling on a half-ticket two days after my twelfth birthday. Above all, the vision of that ill-favoured effigy under the grating rose gibbering and mocking me to my face, and claiming me for penal servitude, if not for the gallows itself. How well I remember every detail of that scene as I entered the doctor's study! The bust of Minerva looking askance at me from above the book- case; the quill in the doctor's hand with its fringe all on end; Tempest's necktie crooked and showing the collar stud above; Mr Jarman's eye coldly fixed on me; and the policeman, helmet in hand, standing with his large boots on the hearthrug, the picture of content and prosperity. "Jones," said the doctor, "we have sent for you to tell us what you did at the gymnasium last night. You were there, I understand, after dark?" I looked first at the doctor, then at Tempest. I would have given worlds to be able to have two minutes' conversation with him, and ascertain what he wished me to say, if indeed he wished me to say anything at all. The memory of a similar dilemma at Dangerfield only served to confuse me more, and make it impossible to decide how I should act now; while the presence of the policeman drove from my head any ideas that were ever there. Would Tempest like me to say that I went there at his bidding, and if not, how could I explain the matter? I wished I only knew what had been said already, so that at least I might put my evidence on the right side. "Yes, sir," said I, "I saw Mr Jarman there." "What were you doing there, eh, young master?" said the policeman. This was an unexpected attack from the flank of the battle for which I was wholly unprepared. I could have told the doctor, or even Mr Jarman. But to be questioned thus by a representative of the law was too much for my delicate nerves.