. But what does it mean? Young Severn's found out all
about it, as sure as I stand here. Then it's one of the boys after all.
Well, I don't care about it as long as it ain't me or Sam, so I'll go
on with my work."

Meanwhile Glyn had entered, closed the door after him, and stood gazing
at the Doctor with a curious sensation in his breast that seemed to stop
all power of speaking connectedly, as he had meant to do when he had
obeyed the impulse to make a clean breast to his old preceptor.

"Well, Severn," said the Doctor gravely, as he laid down his pen, thrust
up his glasses till they were stopped by the stiff grey hair, and
allowed himself to sink back in his writing-chair, "you wish to speak to
me?"

"Yes, sir, please; I--" Glyn stopped short.

That was all that would come, so the Doctor waited for a few moments to
give him time to collect himself, and then with an encouraging smile:
"Are you unwell, my boy? Do you wish to see our physician?"

Glyn uttered a kind of gasp, and then, making a tremendous effort, the
power to speak returned, and he cried, "Oh no, sir; I am quite well,
only--only I am in great trouble, and I want to speak to you."

"Indeed!" said the Doctor gravely, as he placed his elbows upon the
table, joined his finger-tips, and looked over them rather sadly at his
visitor. "I am glad you have come, my boy," he continued gently, "for I
like my pupils to look up to me as if for the time being I stood in the
place of their parents. Now then, speak out. What is it? Some fresh
quarrel between you and Mr Slegge?"

"No, sir," cried Glyn. "It's about that dreadful business of Singh's
belt."

"Ah!" said the Doctor, rather more sharply. "You know something about
it?"

"Yes, sir. It's about that I have come. About people being wrongfully
suspected, and all the unpleasantry."

"Indeed!" said the Doctor, and he now spoke rather coldly. "You know,
Severn, where it is?"

"I--I think so, sir. Yes, sir," continued the boy, speaking more
firmly, "and I want to tell you all I do know."

The Doctor fixed his eyes rather sternly now, for a strange suspicion
was entering his mind, due to the boy's agitated manner and his
hesitating, half-reticent speech.

"Well," he said, "go on; and I beg, my boy, that you tell me everything
without reservation, though I am sorry, deeply grieved, that you should
have to come and speak to me like this."

Glyn seemed to breathe far more freely now, and as if