ent
that the time kept by Leveson's stop-watch was superior to any other.

"Three minutes eighteen seconds to three," answered Leveson, after
examining the watch.

"Oh, we'll make you a present of the seconds," said Arbery. Then he
shouted across to the Bedes: "I say, Beetles, is that champion of yours
coming on an ambulance?"

"No; that's coming after," cried a bright-eyed lad named Sterry, from
the other side, "to take your champion home!"

A loud laugh from the Bedes greeted this retort.

"He scored over you there, Arbery," said indolent Waterman.

Scarcely had the laughter died away than it was followed by a loud
cheer.

"Their man's coming at last. What's the time, Levy?"

"One minute thirty secs. to the hour. He's cut it rather fine--must be a
cool sort of bounder," answered Leveson. "Hallo, look there! Hang me if
there isn't Master Plunger and a lot of the howlers from his form."

Arbery looked in the direction indicated. Plunger and his companions
were lying at full length on the banks of the pit, peering over its
sides and taking the deepest possible interest in the proceedings below.

"So it is. How did the little beggar get to know what was going on, I
wonder?"

"Said he was going eel-fishing. Thought it was a blind," said Devey.
"Hallo, they're peeling!"

Paul had taken off his coat, and rolled back his sleeves. The champion
of the other Form could not at first be seen because of the throng which
had gathered round him, but presently he came from the group that
surrounded him with his coat off, and his arms bared, just as Paul
stepped into the ring.

Their eyes met. Paul staggered back, as though he had been struck. The
youth who stood before him was Gilbert Wyndham, he who had helped him on
the night he was fleeing from Zuker. Fight him? Impossible! Not though
his life depended on it!

The excited murmur of voices that followed the two into the ring ceased.
A strange silence rested on the place, as the two boys confronted each
other. Then as the two schools were waiting eagerly for the first blow
to be struck, they saw Paul's hands fall helpless to his side; saw the
colour go from his face; saw the white lips move. What did it mean? They
stared in wonder, and the wonder grew as Paul turned away and took his
coat from Moncrief.

"I cannot fight," he murmured.

With his coat on his arm he hastened from the pit. Then the silence was
broken by the Bedes. They howled, and jeered and hooted.