look after
hall."

While this kind of talk was going on, Brogten, who was nearly opposite
to Kennedy, sat silent, and watched him.

He did not join in the remarks about the night adventure in Switzerland,
but when there was a slight pause in the fire of questions, he turned
the conversation to the subject of the May examination.

"Those are not your only triumphs, Kennedy, it appears. You seem to
have been doing uncommonly well in the examination, too."

"Oh aye, you were in the first ten," said Suton; "Mr Grayson told me
so."

"Who was first?" asked Lillyston.

"Oh, Home of course; except in one paper, and Kennedy was first in
that."

"I believe that was the Aeschylus paper," said Brogten, throwing the
slightest unusual emphasis into his tone; "you were first in that,
weren't you, Kennedy?"

The men were surprised to hear Brogten address him with such careless
familiarity, knowing the old quarrel that existed between them; and they
were still more surprised to hear Brogten interest himself about a topic
usually so indifferent to him as the result of an examination. It
seemed particularly strange that he should give himself any trouble to
inquire about the present list, because he himself had been _posted_, in
company with Hazlet and Lord Fitzurse, _i e_, their names had been
written up below the eighth class, as "_unworthy to be classed_."

"Was I?" said Kennedy in the most careless tone he could assume.

"Yes--really, didn't you know it? You did it so well that Grayson said,
you _couldn't have done the paper better if you had seen it
beforehand_."

"I say, Kennedy, you _must_ have come out swell, then," said D'Acres,
"for Grayson said just the same thing to me."

"How very odd," said Brogten, affectedly. "You _didn't_ see the papers
beforehand, Kennedy--did you?"

The last few moments had been torture to Kennedy; he had moved uneasily;
the bright look of gratified triumph, which the allusions to his courage
had called forth, had gone out the moment the examination was mentioned,
and it was only by a painful and violent exercise of the will that he
was able to keep back the blood which had begun to rush towards his
cheeks. In the endeavour to check or suppress the blush, he had grown
ashy pale; but now that Brogten's dark and cruel eye was upon him--now
that the protruding underlip curled with a sneer that left no more room
to doubt that he _was_ master of Kennedy's guilty secret--the effort was