"Do you know him, sir?"
"I should think I do!"
"He'll not be in this house?"
Rutter was holding his breath.
"No, but he got my prize last term."
"Do you know his other name?"
It was a tremulous mumble now.
"I'm afraid I don't. Wait a bit! His initials are either E. P. or P. E. He only came last term."
"He only would. But I thought he was going to Winchester!"
"That's the fellow; he got a scholarship and came here instead, at the last moment."
The new boy in the top dormitory made no remark when the matron put out the gas. He was lying on his back with his eyes wide open, and his lips compressed out of sight, just as Heriot had left him. It was almost a comfort to him to know the worst for certain; and now that he did know it, beyond all possibility of doubt, he was beginning to wonder whether it need necessarily be the worst after all. It might easily prove the bust. He had always liked Master Evan; that was as much as this boy would admit even in his heart. The fact would have borne a warmer recognition. Best or worst, however, he knew it as well as though Evan Devereux had already come back with the rest of the school, and either cut him dead or grasped his hand. The one thing not to be suspected for an instant was that the lean oldish man, with the kind word and the abrupt manner, could possibly know the secret of a new boy's heart, and have entered already into his hopes and fears.
It was very quiet in the top dormitory. Rutter wondered what it would be like when all the boys came back. Carpenter's dormitory was downstairs, but they
