oys were
mostly in their studies or collected in whispering groups in the
schoolrooms.

As Jeffreys entered, one or two small boys near the door hissed him and
ran away. Others who met him in the passage and on the stairs glared at
him with looks of mingled horror and aversion, which would have frozen
any ordinary fellow.

Jeffreys, however, did not appear to heed it, still less to avoid it.
Entering the Sixth Form room, he found most of his colleagues gathered,
discussing the tragedy of the day in the dim light of the bay window.
So engrossed were they that they never noticed his entrance, and it was
not till after standing a minute listening to their talk he broke in, in
his loud tones--

"Is Forrester dead?"

The sound of his voice, so harsh and unexpected, had the effect of an
explosion in their midst.

They recoiled from it, startled and half-scared. Then, quickly
perceiving the intruder, they turned upon him with a howl.

But this time the Cad did not retreat before them. He held up his hand
to stop them with a gesture almost of authority.

"Don't!" he exclaimed. "I'll go. But tell me, some one, is he dead?"

His big form loomed out in the twilight a head taller than any of his
companions, and there was something in his tone and attitude that held
them back.

"You will be sorry to hear," said Scarfe, one of the first to recover
his self-control, and with a double-edge of bitterness in his voice,
"that he was alive an hour ago."

Jeffreys gave a gasp, and held up his hand again.

"Is there hope for him, then?"

"Not with you in the school, you murderer!" exclaimed Farfield,
advancing on the Cad, and striking him on the mouth.

Farfield had counted the cost, and was prepared for the furious
onslaught which he felt certain would follow.

But Jeffreys seemed scarcely even to be aware of the blow. He kept his
eyes on Scarfe, to whom he had addressed his last question, and said--

"You won't believe me. I didn't mean it."

"Don't tell lies," said Scarfe, "you did--coward!"

Jeffreys turned on his heel with what sounded like a sigh. The fury of
his companions, which had more than once been on the point of breaking
loose in the course of the short conference, vented itself in a howl as
the door closed behind him. And yet, some said to themselves, would a
murderer have stood and faced them all as he had done?

The long night passed anxiously and sleeplessly for most of the
inhabitants of Bo