"I don't think I quite follow you," said Mr. Bultitude. But he dreaded what was coming next. "It's very simple. You have taken money from these boys, and if you can't give them value for it, you ought to return all you took from them. I'm sure you see that yourself." "I don't admit that I owe them anything," said Paul; "and at all events it is highly inconvenient to pay them now." "If your own sense of honour isn't enough," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "I must take the matter into my own hands. Let every boy who has any claim upon him tell me exactly what it is." One boy after another brought forward his claim. One had entrusted Dick, it appeared, with a shilling, for which he was to receive a mouse with a "plum saddle," and two others had invested ninepence each in white mice. With Porter's half-crown, the total came to precisely five shillings--all Paul had in the world, the one rope by which he could ever hope to haul himself up to his lost pinnacle! Mr. Blinkhorn, naturally enough, saw no reason why the money, being clearly due, should not be paid at once. "Give me any money you have about you, Bultitude," he said, "and I'll satisfy your debts with it, as far as it goes." Paul clasped his arm convulsively. "No!" he cried hoarsely, "not that! Don't make me do that! I--I can't pay them--not now. They don't understand. If they only give me time they shall have double their money back--waggon-loads of rabbits, the best rabbits money can buy--if they'll wait. Tell them to wait. My dear sir, don't see me wronged! I won't pay now!" "They have waited long enough," said Mr. Blinkhorn; "you must pay them." "I tell you I won't!" cried Paul; "do you hear? Not one sixpence. Oh, if you knew! That infernal Garudâ Stone! What fools people are!" Then in his despair he did the most fatal thing possible. He tried to save himself by flight, and with a violent plunge broke through the circle and made for the road which led towards the station. Instantly the whole school, only too glad of the excitement, was at his heels. The unhappy Colonial Produce merchant ran as he had not run for a quarter of a century, faster even than he had on his first experience of Coggs' and Coker's society on that memorable Monday night. But in spite of his efforts the chase was a short one. Chawner and Tipping very soon had him by the collar, and brought him back, struggling and kicking out viciously, to Mr. Blinkhorn, whose good opinion he had now lost for ever. "Please, sir," said Chawner, "I can feel something like a purse in his pocket. Shall I take it out, sir?" "As he refuses to act with common honesty--yes," said Mr. Blinkhorn. It was Dick's purse, of course; and in spite of Paul's frantic efforts to retain it, it was taken from him, its contents equitably divided amongst the claimants, and the purse itself returned to him--empty. "Now, Bultitude," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "if you really wish to leave the field, you may."