No answer. The black-robed instructor took a step forward.
“Who started this?”
Restive shuffling of feet was the only response.
“I’ll flay the hide off everyone of you if you don’t tell me at once who started this disorder,” the angered teacher cried.
“Al—ber! Al—ber!” Hanse’s voice came from outside. It sounded like a voice in a deep forest. An irrepressible snicker ran through the room.
“Who did this—who did this?”
Scher was moving along the aisle, searching guilt in every countenance. Reaching Albert he halted and glowered at him. There was still mist in the boy’s eyes and his lips were twitching.
“So it’s you, is it? You know what to expect and are whimpering ahead of time, hey? You are always the source of all mischief in the class.” His steady eyes were peering at the boy’s agitated face. Then he added, “Now if you didn’t start this, who did?”
The insinuation increased the bitterness in the boy’s heart. He was biting the lining of his lip to hold his tears in check, but not a sound escaped him.
“Won’t you answer me?” The master’s voice was threatening.