In imposing this command, a command which he knew would be obeyed, inasmuch as he perceived that he dominated the weak, grovelling creature in front of him, Warde overlooked the possibility that this boy's confession might implicate other boys. Already he had formed in his mind a working hypothesis to account for this forged letter. The fellow, no doubt, was in debt to some Harrow townsman.
"For whom did you steal this money? To whom did you pay it to-day? Answer!"
And he was answered.
"I owed the money to Scaife and Lovell."
Then he told the story of the card-playing. At the last word he fell on his knees, blubbering.
"Get up," said Warde, sharply. "Pull yourself together if you can."
The master began to walk up and down the room, frowning and biting his lips. From time to time he glanced at Beaumont-Greene. Seeing his utter collapse, he rang the bell, answered by the ever-discreet Dumbleton.
"Dumbleton, take Mr. Beaumont-Greene to the sick-room. There is no one in it, I believe?"
"No, sir."
"You will fetch what he may require for the night; quietly, you understand."