ll, if you were in my place--go on."

"I should go up to Newall and shake hands with him."

"Would you really?" said Stanley haltingly. "I--I--don't think I can do
that, Paul. There's so much bad blood between us."

"All the more reason you should shake hands. It's wonderful what a shake
of the hands does for bad blood. It's the finest leech in the
world--takes all the bad blood out."

"Oh, you're a better fellow than I am, and can do that sort of thing. I
can't!"

"Nonsense! It's like a plunge into cold water--quite nice when the
plunge is once made. Come along! I'll go with you."

He tucked his arm in Stanley's, and together they went in search of
Newall. They found him with Parfitt and another companion. Stanley
walked up to him.

"I hear that it's through you, Newall, I've got out of that den I was in
last night. You've done me a good turn, and, if--if--you don't mind, I'd
like to shake hands with you."

He held out his hand as he spoke, but Newall took no notice of it. He
looked straight at Stanley.

"I really didn't know that I'd done you a good turn. What was the good
turn?"

"Speaking up for me this morning to Mr. Weevil, and getting me out of
that wretched dormitory."

"Oh, that"--he broke into a mocking laugh--"that! You call that a good
turn?"

A wave of scarlet came to Stanley's face. The extended hand fell to his
side. He looked to Paul. Had his friend deceived him? Was this only a
ruse on his part to make him shake hands with Newall, or had Newall
taken leave of his senses? He could learn nothing from Paul's face,
except that it looked just as mystified as he was.

"Certainly it was a good turn. I thoroughly upset Weevil yesterday, and
goodness knows how much longer he would have kept me a prisoner if you
hadn't spoken up for me, as Percival here tells me you did."

"Of course he did," put in Paul cheerfully. "He spoke up to Weevil like
a brick. It's no use trying to hide your light under a bushel, Newall."

"Yes, it's true enough I spoke up to Weevil"--the mocking laughter had
died out of Newall's eyes, and there was now a cruel, vindictive light
in them, just as there had been when Paul had spoken to him the day
before--"and it's true enough I wanted to get you out of that hole in
the roof. But it wasn't to shake hands with you. Not at all. I got you
out of that den so that I might meet you squarely face to face."

Stanley began to understand. It was not from any kindly motive Newall