"Perhaps we can get on with our work now," said Mr. Salmon sarcastically. "Faraday, are you properly awake?"
"Yes, sir!" yelled the supposed Faraday in such a loud voice that it came to Mr. Salmon's ears in the form of a smart answer. The master nodded. "Go on, then," he said.
Jack went on as fast as he was able, and for five minutes the class held its breath. At the end of that time the possibility that Billy's deception would be discovered seemed to have passed. The master went on through the class, and the boys were presently deep in their work; so deep, in fact, that Bathgate felt impelled to relieve the tedium by a little horse-play.
Propping his book up before him, he proceeded to annoy his neighbour in front, one MacAlister, in sundry well-thought-out ways that ended in Mac's turning round and firing a book at Bathgate's head.
Bathgate, who had, of course, been expecting retaliation, ducked smartly, and the book hit the wall with a bang. Mr. Salmon looked up, for the book happened to have been a dictionary, and the sound of its arrival rather loud.
"Bathgate," said the master, "don't tap."
The class chuckled afresh, and Bathgate inserted a pin in the toe of his boot, winking across at Jack Symonds in unmistakable "you-watch-me" manner. Then, sitting back innocently, he let the pin sink into MacAlister's calf.
"Ow!" gasped MacAlister, jumping up in a rage and aiming another book at his tormentor's grinning face. "Take that!"
Bathgate, however, had no intention of taking it, and he slid sidewise on his chair to avoid the missile. His move was too sudden for his equilibrium. The chair went over, and he went over with it, pitching head-first into the stomach of the bogus Billy Faraday. The effigy did not protest, but slid gracefully to the floor, where it lay in the attitude of a gentleman looking under the sofa for his collar-stud.
"Jimjams!" gasped Septimus Patch, "That's done it!"