“It is a question of fact, not of opinion,” replied Mr. Alsop, tartly. “It might not seem to you so unlikely, if you had seen as much of the pair as I have.”
“Might it not have been Donald Peck whom you saw?” asked Dr. Leighton. “He is in Cambridge, and might very well have been in Boston that night.”
The effect of this question was first to stagger and then to anger Mr. Alsop. In his zeal to bring the guilty Duncan to punishment, he had put aside all thought of error in identification. This reminder of the existence of Duncan’s double came to him as a shock. He entertained the suggestion but a moment, however, dismissing it immediately as reflecting on the accuracy of his observation.
“I can only repeat,” he said with frigid dignity, “that I saw Duncan Peck in Boston Saturday night. The suggestion that the evidence of my own eyes is not trustworthy will not explain his two absences from meals, nor the condition of his room on Sunday morning, nor his very noticeable confusion on being questioned.”
“I am afraid we are spending time unprofitably,” broke in Mr. Moore. “May I suggest that the case be left to a committee, with full power to dismiss the boy if he is found guilty?”
Professor Towle moved that Dr. Leighton, Mr. Alsop, and Mr. Snow constitute such a committee. The motion was passed and the august body continued its review of the list, putting six boys on special probation for an excess of five chapel cuts during the term, voting that notice be sent to three fathers that their sons must be withdrawn, ordering A. Jones to retire from the Assembly Club, and B. Brown to give up either French or German, and C. Smith to pay before Thursday for the damage done in his room or be suspended,—and so on for a ruthless hour of house-cleaning.
After his first recitation next morning, Dr. Leighton got to work on the task of his committee. He found Duncan and Sam together in 7 Hale. Sam retired at the suggestion of the teacher that he wished to talk with Peck alone.
“Was I fired?” asked Duncan, when Dr. Leighton had stated his errand. Duncan’s manner showed plenty of curiosity, but little deep concern.
“Your fate is in the hands of a committee,” replied Dr. Leighton. “If it is true that you were in Boston that night, I couldn’t keep you here if I would, and you may be sure that I should not try to do so. The question is one of fact. At present the presumption is against you. I want first your own word. Were you in Boston Saturday night?”
“No, sir,” responded Duncan, promptly, looking frankly into the teacher’s serious face. The boy’s expression was serious too, except as to the eyes. In them gleamed but half suppressed a glint of fun.