Jonah, however, on this particular morning felt far from comfortable.

It may have been the hot sultry day, or it may have been the general oppression of his own feelings, which gave him a sense of something-- probably a thunderstorm impending. His cla.s.s remarked that he was less exacting than usual, and even Jeffreys became aware that his colleague for once in a way was not himself.

The clock had just struck twelve, and the boys were beginning to look forward to their usual break in half an hour's time, when the schoolroom door suddenly opened, and disclosed the broad figure of Mr Rosher, followed at a timid distance by Mrs Trimble.

Jonah's face turned pale; Freddy and Teddy opened their eyes to their widest. Jeffreys, on hearing Freddy mutter "Father," looked round curiously, to get a view of the father of his little friends.

Mr Rosher recognised Trimble with a nod.

"I've coom, you see, lad. I want to have a look at this murderer fellow thee was talking about. Where is he?"

It was a thunderclap with a vengeance! Only two persons in the room guessed all it meant.

"Coom, trot him out, man," repeated the farmer, noticing the hesitation in Jonah's scared face. "Is that the chap yonder thee was telling me of?" added he, pointing to Jeffreys.

It was all up with Galloway House, and Jonah knew it.

"Yes," said he.

Jeffrey's face became livid as he sprang to his feet.

"Stay where thou art," said the brawny farmer, motioning him back.

"Let's have a look at thee. So thee's a manslayer? Thou looks it."

A terrible pause followed--the pause of a man who struggles for words that will not come.

He looked terrible indeed; with heaving chest and bloodless lips, and eyes like the eyes of a hunted wolf. At length he gasped--

"Liar!" and advanced towards the affrighted Jonah.

But the st.u.r.dy Yorkshire-man stepped between.

"Nay, nay," said he, "one's enough. Stay where thou art, and let him give chapter and verse--chapter and verse. He came to me last night, and said thou wast a murderer, and I've coom to see if thou art. Thou looks one, but maybe thou'rt right to call him a liar."

"Ask him," gasped Jonah, "what he did to his old schoolfellow, young Forrester, and then lot him call me a liar if he likes."

"Dost hear, lad? What was it thee did to thy old schoolfellow young Forrester? That's a fair question. Out with it."

If Jeffreys had looked terrible a moment ago, he looked still more terrible now, as he sank with a groan onto the bench, and turned a sickened look on his accuser.

The dead silence of the room almost stunned him. He seemed to feel every eye that turned to him like a dagger in his heart, and there rose up in his mind a vision of that football field far away, and the senseless figure of the boy who lay there. Everything came back. The howl of execration, the frightened faces, the cap lying where the boy had flung it, even the chill autumn breeze in his face.

He knew not how long he sat there stupefied. The voice of Mr Rosher roused him.

"Coom, now, dost thou say liar still?"

Jeffreys struggled to his feet, no longer furious, but still more terrible in his dejection.

"Yes," snapped Jonah, astonished at the effect of his accusation, and just wise enough to see that to add to or take away from the story would be to spoil it. "What did you do to your poor schoolfellow, young Forrester? Do you suppose we don't see through you?"

"Hold thy tongue, little donkey!" said the farmer; "let's hear what he has to say."

For a moment it seemed as if Jeffreys was about to take him at his word, and say something. But his tongue failed him at the critical moment, and he gave it up. He had caught sight of Teddy's eyes fixed on his in mingled misery and terror, and the sight unmanned him.

He moved slowly to the door.

They watched him, spellbound, and in a moment he would have gone, had not Teddy with a big sob made a spring forward and seized him by the arm.

"Oh, Jeff it's a wicked he; we don't believe it. Freddy, we don't believe it, do we? Father, he's been good to us; he never did anything unkind. Don't have him sent away!"

This appeal fairly broke the spell. Freddy was at his brother's side in an instant, and the rest of the school, had not Mr Rosher motioned them back, would have followed him.

"Teddy and Freddy, my lads," said the farmer, "go to thy seats like good lads. Let him say yea or nay to what this--little--peacher says."

"Say you didn't, Jeff," implored the boys.

Jeffreys shook his head sadly.

"I can't," he said. "If he's dead--"

"Oh, he's dead," put in Jonah; "I can tell you that."

Jeffreys gave one scared look at the speaker, and then hurried from the room.

Mrs Trimble followed him up to his room.

"I don't believe it all," said she; "you never did it on purpose, you're not so bad as that. I won't believe it even if you tell me," said the good lady, bursting into tears.

Jeffreys put together his few books and garments.

"You're going," said she, "of course. It's no use hoping you won't.

Here's two pounds you're owed--and--"

Jeffreys took the money, and kept her hand for a moment in his.

"You are kind," said he hoa.r.s.ely. "Good-bye, Mrs Trimble."

He kissed her hand and took up his bundle.

At the foot of the stairs a boy's hand was laid on his arm.

"Oh, Jeff," whispered Teddy--he had stolen out of the schoolroom. "Poor Jeff! I know you aren't wicked. Say good-bye, Jeff. What shall we do?

What shall we do?"

"Good-bye, little chap," said Jeffreys, stooping down and kissing the boy's wet cheek.

"But, Jeff, where are you going? When will you--?"

Jeffreys was gone.