"For whom were you posting this letter—Moncrief major, or Moncrief minor?"
"Neither," came the low answer.
"Who, then? Come; no harm shall befall you if you speak the truth."
"I don't mind myself, but—but—I don't want any harm to happen to—to——"
"The one who sent you—eh? Well, we'll see. Just tell me frankly who sent you with this letter? It is quite easy for me to find out by opening it, you know; but I would much rather hear it from you."
"Percival," answered the boy, hesitatingly, seeing there was no help for it.
"Percival!" echoed the master. "Wait here a moment."
He left the room with the letter. Hibbert wondered what he intended doing with it. Would he open it, or would he send for Percival? He was on thorns. Percival had particularly wished to keep the note from Mr. Weevil. The very first thing he had asked him to do—and that so simple—he had made a mess of.
"How stupid of me! How stupid of me! Percival will never trust me with anything again."
In a few minutes Mr. Weevil returned. His face had not lost its sternness.