a point of
retiring whenever a rank outsider appears. One ought to be particular
about the company one keeps." It says something for the boy's character,
that this statement was accepted by the house as unvarnished truth.
Lovell glanced at the other Fifth Form boys, as Rutford repeated the
question.

"Anybody else, Lovell? Be careful how you answer me!"

"Nobody else," said Lovell.

"On your honour, sir?"

"On my honour, sir."

And, later, all Manorites declared that Lovell had lied like a
gentleman. Rutford and he stared at each other, the boy pale, but
self-possessed, the big, burly man flushed and ill at ease.

"You will all go to my study. A word with you, Lawrence."

The boys filed quietly out. Rutford looked at John and Fluff. Large, fat
tears were trickling down Fluff's cheeks. Somehow he felt convinced
that John was involved in a frightful row.

"Run away, Kinloch," said his house-master. "I wish to speak with
Lawrence and Verney."

He turned to Lawrence as he spoke. John glanced at Scaife. His eyes were
open. Silently, Scaife placed a trembling finger upon his lips. The
action, the expression in the eyes, were unmistakable. John understood,
as plainly as if Scaife had spoken, that silence, where expulsion
impended, was not only expedient but imperative. Kinloch crept out of
the room. Rutford examined Scaife, who feigned insensibility. Then he
addressed Lawrence.

"Go to Lovell's room, Lawrence, and institute a thorough search. If you
find wine or spirits, let me know at once."

Lawrence left the room.

"Now, Verney, I am going to ask you a few questions." He assumed his
rasping, truculent tone. "And don't you dare to tell me lies, sir!"

John was about to repudiate warmly his house-master's brutal injunction,
when the habit of thinking before he spoke closed his half-opened lips.
Immediately, his face assumed the obstinate, expressionless look which
made those who searched no deeper than the surface pronounce him a dull
boy. Rutford, for instance, interpreted this stolidity as unintelligence
and lack of perception. John, meantime, was struggling with a thought
which shaped itself slowly into a plan of action. He had just heard
Lovell lie to save the Caterpillar. John knew well enough that he might
be called upon to lie also, to save not himself, but Scaife. If he held
his tongue and refused to answer questions, Rutford would assume, and
with reason, that Scaife had been made drunk by the Fifth