ip, to run the risk of a foolhardy adventure at night. But Paul
thought that he was right, and that, by visiting Stanley, he was
interpreting in the best way he could the school motto, "Be stedfast."

There were but few stars in the heavens as he stepped on to the parapet.
The wind blew freshly, and the clouds were scurrying quickly across the
moon. It was a plain Gothic parapet, in keeping with the time-worn
building. It rose a couple of feet above the gutter, and the latter, in
turn, was nearly of the same width; so that there was not much
difficulty in walking along it to the dormers.

Glancing along the gutter, Paul saw that the light was still burning in
Mr. Weevil's room. The window beyond was in darkness. That was where
Stanley was? Would it be possible for him to reach it without being seen
by Mr. Weevil? He meant trying. Stealing cautiously along the gutter, he
stopped within a yard or so of the master's window.

What was that? The sound of voices, and it came from Mr. Weevil's room.

"Chewing over science with one of the other masters," thought Paul.
"It's jolly late to be talking that dry stuff. But hanged if I don't
think Weevil talks it in his sleep; he's so hot on it. He ought to be
amongst the fossils in the museum. I don't believe he's got any warm
blood in him. He was never meant for a human being. Steady--steady."

He knelt on the gutter, and stretched himself along till he was just
able to peer into the room. A lamp was burning on the table, on which
were strewn a number of papers and documents. Over these two men were
leaning, as though they were earnestly discussing their contents.

"Some musty old parchments from the Assyrians or the lost Ten Tribes, I
expect," Paul told himself. "But who's the other fossil? I don't seem to
know him. Not one of the masters here."

He could not see either of the faces very clearly as they bent over the
documents; but one he knew to be Mr. Weevil's. The other was a
stranger's.

"Why doesn't he look up?" Paul asked himself, growing curious.

The man was tracing something with his finger on the document before
him, and Mr. Weevil was following the direction of his finger with the
closest attention. Presently the man raised his head. In spite of
himself Paul cried out. The men heard the cry, and he had only just time
to draw back as they turned to the window.

Paul lay there breathing hard. Would he be found out? His heart beat
violently as he heard footsteps