m and
heard the cries.

"You want the names, do you? You think, perhaps, I do not dare to give
them. I do dare, though I stand here single-handed. The three boys are
Richardson, Heathcote, and Coote, and if you don't believe me, ask
them."

Another dead silence followed this announcement, and all eyes turned to
where the "Firm" sat, pale and quivering.

Before, however, they could say a word, Mansfield rose, and stepped up
on to the platform.

"Pledge has, for reasons best known to himself, charged three boys here
with theft. Unlike his usual manner, he makes the charge in public
before the whole school; and that being so, it is only fair the whole
school should hear from him and his witnesses, if he has any, what the
theft is."

The Captain's words were greeted with cries of approval from the
meeting, and every one turned now to Pledge.

He stood a moment irresolute, scowling at his arch-enemy, and longing to
be able to include him in the accusation he brought against his
_proteges_. Then, with a half-swagger, he stepped on to the platform.

"If the Captain thinks I'm afraid to do what he asks, he's mistaken. I
don't believe in hole-and-corner business. And as he has challenged me
to accuse his three young friends in public and bring my witness, I will
do both."

"What witness?" groaned Heathcote, in a whisper to Dick.

"Don't talk to me," hissed Dick, between his teeth.

"Go on," said Mansfield, to the accuser.

"Thank you. So I will. A fortnight ago, gentlemen, a small boy went
down to Templeton--"

"Wait!" interposed Mansfield, "we must have names. What boy?"

"A small boy named Coote," began Pledge.

Coote, at the sound of his name, half-bounded from his seat. He knew he
was "in it." But what on earth had any proceedings of his a fortnight
ago to do with the loss of the _Martha_?

"Went down to Templeton to a shop--"

"What shop?" demanded Mansfield.

"To Webster's shop," replied Pledge, beginning to be ruffled by the
Captain's determined manner.

The "Firm" started suddenly. Whatever was coming?

"While spending his time in the shop, the young gentleman, as young
gentlemen sometimes do, stole a silver pencil."

There was a pause, and every eye turned towards Coote, who gaped at the
announcement and stared at his partners as if he had been confronted
with a ghost.

On Dick's countenance a curious change was taking place. Horror had
already given way to bewilderment, and be