“The half-dollar?” questioned Barber.
Raleigh nodded, and the two went into the class-room. Each cast a quick glance at Dixon as they passed his seat, and both saw that he was rubbing his right hand with his handkerchief.
As they took their seats, Barber glanced at Raleigh with a quick gesture towards St. John. He, too, was rubbing his handkerchief over his right hand, and eyeing with a disgusted expression some black stains that showed conspicuously on his slender white fingers.
Presently, Raleigh went to the desk, and told Mr. Horton, in a tone too low for any other ears, the result of their watch.
Mr. Horton was greatly disturbed.
“There must be some mistake,” he said. “I cannot believe it of either of them.”
Then placing Gordon in charge of the room, he went to confer with Professor Keene. The result was that when the class was dismissed, St. John, Dixon, Raleigh and Barber were told to remain.
Then Mr. Horton took St. John into the dressing-room alone. The boy followed him with evident bewilderment, and when the teacher said:—
“St. John, will you tell me how you got those stains on your hand?” he looked as if he thought himself the victim of some practical joke, and drawing himself up, answered haughtily and coldly, “That is my affair, sir.”
“Ordinarily, it would be your affair, St. John,” answered Mr. Horton patiently, “but, unfortunately, to-day I must insist upon an answer to my question.”