"Oh-h-h-h!" the long, intense, deep-drawn expression of disgust and contempt ran round the room.
"You have told me a lie!" said Mr. Rose, slowly, and with ineffable contempt. "No words can express my loathing for your false and dishonorable conduct. Nor shall your lie save you, as you shall find immediately. Still, you shall escape if you can or dare to deny it again. I repeat my question--Were you engaged in this?"
He fixed his full, piercing eye on the culprit, whom it seemed to scorch and wither. Brigson winced back, and said nothing. "As I thought," said Mr. Rose.
"Not one boy only, but many, were engaged. I shall call you up one by one to answer me. Wildney, come here."
The boy walked in front of the desk.
"Were you one of those who threw?"
Wildney, full as he was of dangerous and deadly faults, was no coward, and not a liar. He knew, or at least feared, that this new scrape might be fatal to him, but, raising his dark and glistening eyes to Mr. Rose, he said penitently--
"I didn't throw, sir, but I did put out one of the candles that it might be done."
The contrast with Brigson was very great; the dark cloud hung a little less darkly on Mr. Rose's forehead, and there was a very faint murmur of applause.
"Good! stand back. Pietrie, come up."