"What, Percival! You here?" exclaimed the master. "Where is Mrs.
Trounce?"

"Hibbert wanted me to sit by him, and I'm taking her place for a short
time. She'll be back presently, sir."

"Are you feeling better?" asked the master, as he turned from Paul to
the patient.

"Oh, yes, much better. It's done me good to have Percival here."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Mr. Weevil's hand went gently, lovingly over the boy's brow, and he
watched him anxiously through his half-closed eyes. Paul recalled the
master's grief when he first saw the boy after the accident, and other
little traits of kindness--traits which had shown him that Mr. Weevil
was not altogether the stern, harsh man he had one time thought him.
None the less, he was sorry that he had entered the room at that moment.
Hibbert had awakened his curiosity. What was it that was weighing on his
mind? What had he to tell him about the man Zuker? He wished Mr. Weevil
had kept from the room a bit longer.

Paul waited, hoping that he would go out. But the master did not move
from the position he had taken up at the bedside, and his hand continued
to move caressingly over the boy's forehead. After a minute or two's
silence he turned to Paul.

"You've had your fair spell of watching, Percival. I'll take your place
till Mrs. Trounce returns. Hibbert looks very flushed and feverish. I'm
afraid he's been speaking too much."

What could Paul say? He had no alternative but to obey. Hibbert's eyes
followed him as he went out.

"What was it he had to tell me, I wonder?" Paul asked himself, as he
passed along the corridor.

It was a long time before he slept that night. His mind kept travelling
back over the many events of a singularly eventful day. And when he at
last dozed off to sleep, he could hear the voice of Hibbert sounding a
long way off.

"Oh, why didn't you let me die? Why didn't you let me go down in the
river? Why did you save me? Don't leave me, Percival--don't leave me.
I'll be quieter if you stay with me a little longer."

Then the voice died away and all was blank.

CHAPTER XXIX

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR ARRIVES AT GARSIDE

Two things, outside the ordinary school routine, occupied attention on
the morrow. The first was the adventures which had so nearly cost
Hibbert his life; the second the loss of the school flag. The report as
to the condition of Hibbert was neither good nor bad. There was no
improvement, but neither had he gone back. His c