was sticking out. There was no catching Heriot's eye after prayers; and yet even Relton, at first school, looked as though nothing had happened overnight. He took his form in Greek history with that rather perfunctory air which marked all his work in school; but so far from ignoring Jan, or showing him any special consideration, Relton was down upon him twice for inattention, and on the second occasion ordered him to stay behind the rest. Jan did so in due course, and was not called up until the last of the others had left.
"I didn't keep you back for inattention," calmly explained young Relton. "I could hardly expect you to attend this morning. I kept you back to tell you of my conversation with Mr. Heriot last night."
"Thank you, sir."
"I began by sounding him on the punishment for getting out at night—even on the venial pretext of a lark—in which I was prepared to corroborate your statement as far as possible."
Dudley Relton was already falling into the school-master's trick of literary language, and here was at least one word of which Jan did not know the meaning. But he expressed his gratitude again. And Relton gathered his books together with some care before proceeding.
"It's perfectly plain from what he says that the one and only punishment is—the sack!"
Jan said nothing. But neither did he wince. He was prepared for the blow, and from Dudley Relton he could bear it like a man.
"That being so," continued the other, stepping down from his desk, "I said nothing about last night, Rutter."
"You said nothing about it?"
