it was an accident," said Jeffreys.

"Is the story worth repeating?" asked the guardian, knocking the ash off
the end of the cigar, and settling himself in his chair.

Jeffreys told the story in a blundering, mixed-up way, but quite clearly
enough for Mr Halgrove.

"So you meant to run at him, though you didn't mean to kill him?" said
he, when the narrative was ended.

"I did not mean to kill him," repeated the boy doggedly.

"Of course it would not occur to you that you were twice his size and
weight, and that running over him meant--well manslaughter."

"I never thought it for a moment--not for a moment."

"Was the accident fatal, at once, may I ask?"

"No, sir; he was brought to the school insensible, and remained so for
more than twelve hours. Then he became conscious, and seemed to be
doing well."

"A temporary rally, I suppose?" observed the guardian.

Jeffreys' mouth worked uneasily, and his pale brow became overcast
again.

"No, I believe if it hadn't been for me he might have recovered."

"Indeed," said the other, once more raising his eyebrows; "what further
attention did you bestow on him--not poison, I hope?"

"No, but I went to his room in the middle of the night and startled him,
and gave him a shock."

"Yes; playing bogey is liable to alarm invalids. I have always
understood so," said Mr Halgrove drily.

"I didn't mean to startle him. I fancied he was asleep, and just wanted
to see how he seemed to be getting on. No one would tell me a word
about him," said Jeffreys miserably.

"And that killed him outright?"

"I'm afraid it must have," said Jeffreys. "The doctor had said the
least shock would be fatal, and this was a very great shock."

"It would be. You did not, however, wait to see?"

"No; I waited an hour or two, and then I ran away."

"Did you say good-bye to the head-master before leaving?"

"No; nobody knew of my going."

"Of course you left your address behind you, in case you should be
invited to attend the inquest."

"They know where I live," said Jeffreys.

"Indeed! And may _I_ ask where you live?"

The ward's face fell at the question.

"Here, sir," faltered he.

"Pardon me, I think you are mistaken, John Jeffreys."

Jeffreys looked hard at his guardian, as if to ascertain whether or not
he spoke seriously. His one longing at that moment was for food and
rest. Since Saturday morning his eyes had never closed, and yet,
strange as it may seem, he cou