"You lie," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, in a passionless voice.
Few persons acquainted with him would have suspected how deeply he was agitated by this reference to his old schoolmate.
"The scapegoat of the school," proceeded John Dixon, as if Mr. Fox-Cordery had not spoken. "As easily led as a fly in harness. We three were differently circumstanced. My people were poor, and could allow me very little pocket-money; Bob Grantham's people were rich, and he had a liberal supply. What your people allowed you no one knew. You kept your affairs very secret, Fox; you were always a sly, vain, cautious customer. Poor Bob was the soul of frankness; he made no secret of anything, not even of his weaknesses, which he laughed at as freely as some others did. Regularly every fourth Monday his foolish people sent him ten pounds, and quite as regularly on the very next day he had not a penny of his ten pounds left. Where did his money go to? Who, in the course of a few short hours, had got hold of it? Some said he gave it away to any poor man or woman he happened to meet. Some said he chucked it into the pond out of dare-devilry. When he was questioned, he turned it off with a laugh. You used to be asked about it, and you used to answer, 'How should I know?' It was a mystery, and Bob never blabbed--nor did you, Fox!"
"How could I supply information," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, "upon a matter so mysterious; and what is the meaning of all this rhodomontade?"
"I suppose," continued John Dixon, still as if Mr. Fox-Cordery had not spoken, "that most boys set up for themselves a code of honor which they stick to, more or less, according to their idea of things. I remember I did; I am quite sure poor Bob Grantham did; I don't know whether you did, because you were so secretive, so very secretive. I leave you out, Fox, for a cogent reason. I guess, as our American cousins say, you are not in it when I speak of honor; and in making this observation you will perceive that I have no desire to conciliate you or to win your favor. Now, old fellow, there were only three boys in the whole of that school--and there were thirty-five of us--who knew what became of Bob Grantham's money."
"Three persons!"
"Just three persons, and no more. The first was poor Bob himself, the second was Fox-Cordery, the third was John Dixon."
"Indeed! You?"
"I, on the honor of a gentleman."
Mr. Fox-Cordery's lips curled in derision as he remarked: