post.

"That is all the explanation I can give, sir."

"Very well, Percival"--the manner of Mr. Travers changed as the words
fell from Paul's lips; he was again the master, and frigid as ice--"then
there is nothing more to be said. I regret that I sent for you."

Thus curtly dismissed, Paul went out, feeling miserable. At the time
when he so wanted a friend he had lost one. And yet how else could he
have acted? There was no other way. He must wait and see what the
letter to Mr. Moncrief would bring forth. And with this thought
uppermost in his mind he went to the writing-room to await the return
of Hibbert.

CHAPTER XIX

THE SCHOOL OF ADVERSITY

Paul took up a pen as he sat and waited, and idly traced words upon the
blotting-paper. But his thoughts were far away. He was thinking of the
interview he had just had with Mr. Travers. He was still thinking of it
when the door opened and Hibbert entered.

"Have you posted the letter?" Paul asked.

"Yes; the postman was just clearing the box when I slipped it in."

Paul would almost as soon that he had not succeeded in posting it--that
he had brought the letter back with him. Perhaps it was best as it was,
however.

"Thanks, Hibbert."

He did not notice that the boy was looking uncomfortable--as though he
had something on his mind but dared not speak it.

"You have seen Mr. Travers?"

"Yes." Then noticing for the first time the nervous, apprehensive look
in the boy's eyes, and thinking it was due to the fear that he had got
into further trouble with the master, he added: "Nothing happened. He
was quite nice with me."

"I'm glad of that."

By this time Hibbert was standing by Paul's side. Suddenly an
exclamation came from his lips.

"Hallo! What's wrong?"

Paul, looking at the boy, saw that his eyes were fixed upon the
blotting-paper.

"That--that! Do you know anybody of that name?" he asked, as he pointed
to a name Paul had unconsciously traced on the blotting-paper--that of
Zuker.

"Why? Do you?" Paul asked.

"Y-yes," answered the boy, with hesitation. "I--I once knew a boy of
that name."

"Where?" asked Paul, at once interested.

"When I was at school in Germany; but there are a good many Zukers
there, you know, and the boy I speak of is dead."

"Dead! Did you know his father?"

Hibbert shook his head. Paul tore up the blotting-paper. It was just
possible that Mr. Weevil might catch sight of the name, just as Hibbert
had done.

"Yo