ack?--so he must
have been in the gym.," said Warminster.

"Who else was likely to do it?" said Langrish. "I suppose you'll try to
make out Jarman tried to blow himself up?"

"I never said so. All I said was that I'm positive Tempest never did
it."

"And all we say is that you're about as big an ass as you look, and
that's saving a good deal," chimed in the Philosophers.

How long the wrangle might have gone on I cannot say. For just then the
school messenger appeared on the scene once more--this time in quest of
me.

"Young Master Jones iv., you're to go to the head master at once."

"What for?" said I, feeling a cold shudder go down my spine.

"Ask a policeman," replied the ribald official. "You've had a short
time and a merry one, my young gentleman; but it's over at last."

"But I never--"

"Sharp's the word!" interrupted he.

"You'd better cut," said the Philosophers. "We'll give you a lift if we
can."

It was poor consolation, but such as it was I valued it. Never criminal
walked to the gallows with as heavy a heart as I followed the school
messenger across the quadrangle and past the fated gymnasium to the head
master's study.

There I found four people waiting to see me. Tempest looking very
sullen, the head master looking very grave, Mr Jarman looking very
vicious, and a policeman looking very cheerful.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

BEFORE THE "BEAK."

At the sight of the policeman I gave myself up for lost. The sins and
errors of my youth all rose in a hideous procession before me. I
recalled vividly the occasion when, years ago, I had borrowed Dicky
Brown's "nicker" without acknowledgment, and lost it. I recalled a
dismal series of assaults and libels in my guardian's office. I
recollected with horror once travelling on a half-ticket two days after
my twelfth birthday. Above all, the vision of that ill-favoured effigy
under the grating rose gibbering and mocking me to my face, and claiming
me for penal servitude, if not for the gallows itself.

How well I remember every detail of that scene as I entered the doctor's
study! The bust of Minerva looking askance at me from above the book-
case; the quill in the doctor's hand with its fringe all on end;
Tempest's necktie crooked and showing the collar stud above; Mr
Jarman's eye coldly fixed on me; and the policeman, helmet in hand,
standing with his large boots on the hearthrug, the picture of content
and prosperity.

"Jones," said