What was he to do? How was he to act? He was face to face with the same dilemma that had confronted him when Hibbert had confessed to him his relationship to Zuker. The more he thought of it, the more difficult it seemed to move. He was bound hand and foot by the promise he had made to Hibbert. How could he be false to that promise--how could he give information which might cause his death?

Strange to say, his confidence in Mr. Weevil had grown by what he had overheard at that interview. It was true enough that the master seemed involved in some way in the schemes of Zuker, but it seemed equally certain that he was against them. The words he had overheard were still ringing in his ears: "You wish to drive me back to the Fatherland, and keep all to yourself, my boy--the boy of your dead sister!" Things seemed clearer to Paul. The master's purpose seemed clearer. It was his love for his nephew--for Hibbert--which had involved him in the schemes of Zuker. Paul had disliked and suspected Mr. Weevil, but, curiously enough, he now seemed to understand better than ever he had understood before, and that understanding was to the advantage rather than the disadvantage of the master.

"The hand of a Higher than man is in it." Those were the master's words.

They had been spoken from his heart; there was no doubt of that. Though they had failed to move Zuker, they had moved Paul strangely. Yes; the hand of a Higher than man was in it, and the designs of Zuker would certainly be overturned.

"I wish Mr. Moncrief had answered my letter, though," he said to himself, as he returned to the school. It must have miscarried. He determined to question Hibbert about it again that very evening.

So when the evening came he went to the sick-room, and the nurse, who was now in attendance, gladly vacated her place at the bedside to him.

As usual, Hibbert had been looking forward to Paul's visit, and the thin white face was at once all sunshine.

"I'm feeling ever so much better," he said, in answer to Paul's inquiries. "I'm feeling quite strong. I shall soon be out again if I go on like this. Do you think the fellows will be pleased to see me?"

"Of course they will!"

"I was never very popular, you see," Hibbert went on thoughtfully. "It was all my fault. I never took any interest in the sports. I mean to be different when I get off this wretched bed--turn over a new leaf; go in for footer, cricket, and that sort of thing. I don't see why I shouldn't do as well as the rest of them, do you, Percival?"

"I don't see why," answered Paul cheerfully.

"And there's a lot of other things I mean to do. Do you know, I've been thinking over so much to-day about our being at the same school--how wonderful it all is that you and I should be at Garside. And when I get out again, do you know what I mean to do?"

Paul shook his head. He was looking at the face, which seemed to grow smaller and smaller, and wondering whether Hibbert would get out again.

"I mean to do my best to pay on that debt my father owed your father--the debt that never has been paid. That'll be something to live for and work for, and G.o.d helping me, I'll do it--do it! Don't say that you don't wish it--that you don't want it."

"Certainly not," answered Paul, very softly, falling in with his mood.

"You shall do as you think best when you get out again."

There was silence between them for a few moments. Hibbert lay with his hands crossed on his breast and his eyes upturned to the ceiling.

"What have you been doing this afternoon, Percival?" he suddenly asked, as his eyes went back again to Paul's face.

The question took Paul by surprise. How could he tell Hibbert what he had been doing that afternoon--the discovery he had made, what he had seen and what he had heard in the cave?

"Doing?"

"Yes. Half-holiday, wasn't it? I still keep count of holidays, you see."

Hibbert smiled.

"Oh, I went for a walk!"

"By yourself?"

"By myself." Paul could see that the boy's eyes were scanning his face curiously, so he added quickly: "I'm rather fond of walking by myself."

"Have you heard anything about the flag?"

"How did you come to know that it was gone?" Paul asked, astonished, for he had thought it better not to trouble him with the information.

"Oh, Mrs. Trounce told me. I get her to tell me any special news. I like to know what's going on in the school. Matron's a good sort. It was a beastly shame to take the flag, whoever did it. Have they got any clue?"

"Not yet."

"I expect the Beetles had a hand in it. What do you think?"

"I scarcely know what to think. It's a mystery. You haven't been climbing to the turret in your sleep, and hauling the flag down just for the fun of the thing, have you?"

The idea quite tickled Hibbert, for he laughed outright.

"By the by," said Paul, turning the conversation to the purpose for which he had come to that room, "you recollect that letter I gave you to post a few weeks back?"

"Yes."

"You're quite certain you posted it?"

"Quite certain. I think that I said so at the time."

Paul noticed that though Hibbert was quite certain that he had posted the letter he spoke with some hesitation.

"Yes, yes; you said so at the time--that's quite right. But I was wondering whether by any chance you might have given it to some other boy to post."

"No; I put it in the letter-box with my own hands." Hibbert again hesitated for a moment, then added; "Something did happen, but I did not think it worth while to worry you about it."

"What was it?" Paul asked eagerly.

"I was blockhead enough to run full tilt against Mr. Weevil when I got outside, and--and he caught sight of your letter."

"Caught sight of my letter! And what did he do?"

"Made me go to his room. He asked me who sent me with the letter, and I was obliged to tell him. It didn't matter, did it?"

"It didn't matter," repeated Paul, his throat suddenly becoming parched.

"Well, well, what happened then?"

"He took the letter to his room, but came back with it in a minute or so and handed it back to me. He said that you had broken the rules of the school in sending off a letter without the knowledge of the masters, but he would overlook the offence, for--for my sake. That's the reason I didn't make a fuss about it to you."

"He said that--Mr. Weevil said that? And he gave you back my letter?

You're quite certain it was the same?"

"Oh, quite certain! I thought perhaps he might have opened it, as he said he had a right to, so I looked at it to make sure it was the same.

It was the same--in your handwriting. I could tell that anywhere. But what makes you ask? Has it miscarried?"

"I hope not. I haven't had an answer yet--that's all. I dare say I shall get one presently, so don't you worry about it."

To prevent him doing so, Paul turned the conversation again to other matters, and then went out. The information Paul had given him about the letter set him thinking. What had the master done with his letter in the few brief moments he had had it in his possession away from Hibbert? Had he opened it and read it? If so, was the letter he had handed back to Hibbert to post the same letter that he--Paul--had written? to Mr.

Moncrief? Hibbert was sure that it was--sure that it was in his handwriting. In any case, a letter had been posted to Mr. Moncrief. What letter was it?