"Yes, sir."
"Excellent! But, do you know, Percival, this really seems a stranger story than the other."
"Perhaps so, sir; but I can prove every word of it, if you like. By your permission, I will send for Mr. Moncrief——"
"No, no; that is altogether unnecessary!" said the master quickly. "Strange though the story is, I accept every word of it—every word. The friend you speak of was indeed a friend in need. You must keep your word to him—it would be an act of baseness to break it. I did not know the facts, you see. You may leave the rest to me."
Paul's heart bounded joyfully. The bold course had been the right one. It had succeeded where a weaker course might have utterly failed.
"Thank you, sir. It is very kind of you."
Paul was about to withdraw, when the master called him back.
"Let me see, there was a letter came for you while you were out. There it is in the rack."
Paul took the letter from the rack as Mr. Weevil turned to his books. Again his heart gave a great bound. One glance at it told him who it was from. It was the letter he had been so anxiously awaiting from Mr. Walter Moncrief.
"It is for you, isn't it?" Mr. Weevil asked, glancing into the boy's eager face.