He spoke with such earnestness and sincerity that there was scarcely any one present, with perhaps the exception of Newall himself, who doubted him.

"I think you can take Percival's word for it," said Stanley, turning to Newall.

"Thanks so much for one crumb of confidence." Paul, in spite of himself, could not prevent a slight accent of bitterness creeping into his voice.

"It is really very good of you to think that my word may be taken, and I hope you won't think me ungrateful."

"If you say his word may be taken, Moncrief," said Newall, with a shrug of his shoulders, "that's enough. But as you have so much confidence in him, you'd better question him about the Beetle."

"I was going to," answered Stanley, as, once more turning to Paul, he asked: "One of the fellows saw you speaking to a Beetle yesterday. Is that true?"

"Quite true."

"Shaking hands with him?"

"Yes."

Stanley groaned inwardly. He had hoped that it was a mistake--that his cousin's eyes had deceived him, but there was no mistake. It was only too true. He turned away, unable to hide the disappointment on his face.

Paul caught a glimpse of it in spite of the darkness, and was about to speak, but Newall quickly interposed.

"There's another question which Moncrief's modesty prevents him from asking," he said, with a sneer. "We've been given to understand that the Beetle you shook hands with is the same Beetle who knocked Moncrief about in the sand-pit. Is that true, too?"

Paul was silent, as though he still stood to the resolution he had made not to answer Newall.

"Is it--is it?" demanded Stanley, turning swiftly round again, his tone almost as fierce as Newall's had been.

"Yes; it is true." Then he added in a lower voice: "There are things I can't explain. Will you meet me quietly, by yourself, just for a few minutes, Stanley?"

"There's nothing I'm ashamed of. I've no secrets," came the proud, cold answer. "If you've anything to explain, explain it now--in the presence of my friend Newall and the rest!"

"My friend Newall!" The words froze up all the warmer feelings in Paul's breast. It was as though Stanley had taken a knife from his pocket, and with one cruel stroke severed the last bond of friendship between them, and had then bound with firmer hand the bonds that bound him to Newall.

"Very well. If that is your last word, I've spoken my last word too."

And Paul turned on his heel, leaving them to draw what conclusions they liked from his answer.

Newall and his companions set to work removing the feathers which had descended on him in such a shower, and while they were actively engaged in it Waterman came leisurely along, late as usual, and drawled out:

"Hallo, Newall! What's wrong? Been moulting?"

Newall disdained to answer. It was some time before he got clear of the feathers, and then they left unmistakable marks.

"It won't be long before I find out who served me this trick," he said; "but I don't think we want to go to the shed now over the other matter."

"Newall's had more than enough of the shed already, seems to me,"

drawled Waterman.

"Dry up, Water. You're getting it on the brain," responded Newall gruffly.

"I think Newall's quite right," said Stanley. "There's no need for any meeting now. We've found out that it's all true enough about Percival--that he has met a Beetle, that he has spoken to him, that he has shaken hands with him that he is on friendly terms with him. He's admitted it, so it's no use going to the shed."

There was a murmur of a.s.sent.

"Well, but you can't leave it at that. Something more must be done, else Percival will be laughing at us in his sleeve," said Parfitt.

"Why not--why shouldn't we leave it at that?" said Waterman. "What's the use of worrying over trifles? Percival talks to a Beetle. Why on earth shouldn't he, if he likes it? Percival shakes hands with a Beetle.

Again, I ask, where's the objection, so long as he doesn't want me to do it, or any other fellow in the Form. What's the use of making such an awful smoke?"

"I think we'd better truss him with Waterman," suggested Newall.

"That's better than being feathered anyhow," retorted Waterman coolly.

"Come, what's to be done? We can't stay here all night," said Hasluck.

"Leveson will be up presently with his stop-watch."

"We oughtn't to have a fellow like Percival in the school," Parfitt commented. "The thing is how to get rid of him. We can't go up to Weevil and ask that he shall be turned out. And we can't do what we'd like to do--kick him out."

"No, we can't very well do that," struck in Newall. "There's only one way."

"What's that?" cried four or five in chorus.

"Make it too warm for the school to hold him."

"No, no; don't do that," came in quick, tense tones from Stanley. "I wouldn't like to be one to drive Percival from Garside."

"Nor I," added Waterman, with unusual emphasis for him.

"You!" retorted Newall contemptuously; "you don't count. Moncrief does.

What's your objection, Moncrief?"

"Percival was once my friend," came the sad answer.

"Friend!" was the scornful reply.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE RAFT ON THE RIVER

From this time every effort was made to make Paul's life at Garside unendurable. The dead set against him extended from the Fifth Form downwards. The views which Newall had expressed with so much force on the night he had been feathered reigned supreme throughout the school.

It was felt that Paul had no place there, and that as he would not go of his own free will, it was the bounden duty of all of them to follow Newall's advice, and drive him from it. So the war against him was carried on--not so much openly as secretly--by every petty means that could be devised.

Stanley, to his credit, took no part in this secret warfare against Paul. He had still some affection for him; but though he took no part in it, he made no effort to check it. The fact was that he was getting more and more under the thumb of Newall and Parfitt every day.

Even Hibbert seemed to have deserted him. At any rate, Paul saw but little of him at this time, and when he did see him, the boy only greeted him with a wan, frightened smile, as though he were afraid to speak.

Waterman was about the only one who showed no change of manner towards him. He was still quite friendly in his lazy fashion. It was he who had first given the hint to Paul of the movement on foot against him.