that the affair was
pressing. Having the money, I hadn't the heart to refuse."

"But you pressed for repayment?" said Warde, sharply.

"That is true, sir. I'm on an allowance; and I shall have many expenses
this holidays."

"You, Scaife, asked for your money?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, between you, you have driven this unhappy wretch into crime."

"Crime, sir?"

At last their self-possession abandoned them. Crime is a word which
looms large in the imaginations of youth. What had Beaumont-Greene done?

"What crime, sir?"

Scaife, the more self-possessed, although fully two years the younger,
asked the question.

"Forgery."

"Forgery?" Lovell repeated. He was plainly shocked.

"The idiot!" exclaimed Scaife.

"Yes--forgery. Have you anything to say? It is a time when the truth,
all the truth, might be accepted as an extenuating circumstance. I speak
to you first, Lovell. You're a Sixth Form boy--remember, I have been one
myself--and it is your duty to help me."

"I beg pardon, sir," Lovell replied. "I have never considered it my duty
as a Sixth Form boy to play the usher."

"Nor did I; but you ought to work on parallel lines with us. You
accepted the privileges of the Sixth."

Lovell's flush deepened.

"More," continued Warde, "you know that we, the masters, have implicit
trust in the Sixth Form, a trust but seldom betrayed. For instance, I
should not think of entering your room without tapping on the door;
under ordinary circumstances I should accept your bare word
unhesitatingly. I say emphatically that if you, knowing these things,
have accepted the privileges of your order with the deliberate intention
of ignoring its duties, you have not acted like a man of honour."

"Sir!"

"Don't bluff! Now, for the last time, will you give me what I have given
you--trust?"

"I have nothing more to say," Lovell answered stiffly.

"And you, Scaife?"

"I am sorry, sir, that Beaumont-Greene has been such a fool. We lent him
this money, because he wanted it badly; and he said he would pay us back
before the end of the term."

"You stick to that story?"

"Why, yes, sir. Why should we tell you a lie?"

"Ah, why, indeed?" sighed Warde. Then his voice grew hard and sharp. The
persuasiveness, the carefully-framed sentences, gave place to his
curtest manner. "This matter," said he, "is out of my hands. The Head
Master will deal with it. I must ask you for your keys, Lovell."

"And if I refuse to give them up?"