"Ferdinand Mendez Pinto was but a type of thee, thou liar of the first magnitude!"

Lovell betrayed his astonishment by a slight start; however, he faced Warde with a smile. Warde, clean-shaven, alert, with youthful figure, looked but little older than his pupil. For a moment the two stared steadily at each other; then, very politely, Lovell said--

"No, sir, he does not."

Warde continued curtly, "Then he has paid you what he did owe you?"

Lovell nodded, shrugging his shoulders. Plainly, Warde had discovered the fact of the debt. Probably that fool Beaumont-Greene had applied to his father, and the father had written to Warde. It was unthinkable that Warde knew more than this. Having reached this conclusion, Lovell turned over in his mind two or three specious lies that might meet the exigency.

"Yes," he replied, with apparent frankness, "Beaumont-Greene did owe me money, and he has paid me."

After a slight pause, Warde said quietly, "It is my duty, as your tutor, to ask you how Beaumont-Greene became indebted to you?"

"I lent him the money," said Lovell.

"Ah! Please call 'Boy.'"

Lovell went into the pa.s.sage. Had he an intuition that he was about to call "Boy" for the last time, or did the pent-up excitement find an outlet in sound? He had never called "Boy" so loudly or clearly. The night-f.a.g scurried up again.

"Tell him to send Scaife here," said Warde.

Lovell's florid face paled. Scaife would introduce complications. And yet, if it had come to Warde's ears that Beaumont-Greene was in debt to two of his schoolfellows, and if he had found out the name of one, it was not surprising that he knew the name of the other also. As he gave the f.a.g the message, he regretted that Scaife and he could not have a minute's private conversation together.

"You lent Beaumont-Greene ten pounds, Lovell?"

"Yes, sir."

Scaife came in, cool, handsomer than usual because of the sparkle in his eyes.

"Shut the door, Scaife. Look at me, please. Beaumont-Greene owed you money?"

Scaife glanced at Lovell, whose left eyelid quivered.

"Kindly stand behind Scaife, Lovell. Thank you. Answer my question, Scaife."

"Yes, sir; he owed me money."

"Have _you_ lent him money, too?" said Lovell.

It was admirably done--the hint cleverly conveyed, the mild amazement.

Warde smiled grimly. Scaife understood, and took his cue.

"Yes; I have lent him money," said he, after a slight pause.

"Twenty pounds?"

"I believe, sir, that is the amount."

"And can you offer me any explanation why Beaumont-Greene, whose father, to my knowledge, has always given him a very large allowance, should borrow thirty pounds of you two?"

"I haven't the smallest idea, have you, Lovell?"

"No," said Lovell. "Unless his younger brother, who is at Eton, has got into trouble. He's very fond of his brothers."

"Um! You speak up for your--friend."

Lovell frowned. "A friend, sir--no."

"Of course," said Warde, reflectively, "if it is true that Beaumont-Greene borrowed this money to help a brother----"

He paused, staring at Lovell. From the bottom of a big heart he was praying that Lovell would not lie.

"Beaumont-Greene certainly gave me to understand that the affair was pressing. Having the money, I hadn't the heart to refuse."

"But you pressed for repayment?" said Warde, sharply.

"That is true, sir. I'm on an allowance; and I shall have many expenses this holidays."

"You, Scaife, asked for your money?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, between you, you have driven this unhappy wretch into crime."

"Crime, sir?"

At last their self-possession abandoned them. Crime is a word which looms large in the imaginations of youth. What had Beaumont-Greene done?

"What crime, sir?"

Scaife, the more self-possessed, although fully two years the younger, asked the question.

"Forgery."

"Forgery?" Lovell repeated. He was plainly shocked.

"The idiot!" exclaimed Scaife.

"Yes--forgery. Have you anything to say? It is a time when the truth, all the truth, might be accepted as an extenuating circ.u.mstance. I speak to you first, Lovell. You're a Sixth Form boy--remember, I have been one myself--and it is your duty to help me."

"I beg pardon, sir," Lovell replied. "I have never considered it my duty as a Sixth Form boy to play the usher."

"Nor did I; but you ought to work on parallel lines with us. You accepted the privileges of the Sixth."

Lovell's flush deepened.

"More," continued Warde, "you know that we, the masters, have implicit trust in the Sixth Form, a trust but seldom betrayed. For instance, I should not think of entering your room without tapping on the door; under ordinary circ.u.mstances I should accept your bare word unhesitatingly. I say emphatically that if you, knowing these things, have accepted the privileges of your order with the deliberate intention of ignoring its duties, you have not acted like a man of honour."