Chapter Thirty Four.
A Witness called.
Neither of the boys enjoyed his breakfast that morning, and their studies afterwards fared very badly, for their attention was principally directed from their books to the door, which opened again and again for some reason or another, but not for the delivery of the message they expected.
Knowing the military precision of the Colonel, both boys began to wonder at a quarter-past eleven why they had not been summoned, for the Colonel had said in his curt epistle to Glyn—which “looked cross,” so the boy said—that he would be at the Doctor’s at eleven.
Half-past was marked by the hands of the big dial, quarter to twelve, and then five minutes to mid-day, and in a few minutes the masters would rise; but there was no summons, and, what was more, the Doctor had not been in the class-room that morning.
It was exactly one minute to twelve, and just as Singh’s spirits were rising fast from the effect of having fully settled in his own mind that the Colonel would not come down that day, that his heart sank with a rush, for Wrench entered with the familiar announcement that the Doctor wished to see Mr Severn and Mr Singh in his study.
The boys followed the footman, and as soon as they were outside Glyn began to question him.
“Has my father come, Wrench?”
“Yes, sir,” said the man coldly, for since the beginning of the trouble and the sharp examinations that had taken place, the behaviour of the servants had been distant in the extreme, and such friendly intercourse as had existed between the pupils and masters had received a decided check. In fact, as the days glided away, the Doctor’s establishment had become more and more haunted by the evil spirit, suspicion.