"No, sir. He has pledged his medal."
"Tell me how you know it. Mr. St. John knows he had it in his own house on Saturday."
Aultane shuffled first on one foot, and then on the other; and the dean, failing explanation from him, appealed to the school, but all disclaimed cognizance of the matter. "If you behave in this extraordinary way, you will compel me to conclude that you have made the charge to prejudice me against Arkell; who, I hear, had a serious charge to prefer against you for ill-behaviour in college," continued the dean to Aultane.
"If you will send to the place, you will find his medal is there, sir," sullenly replied Aultane.
"The shortest plan would be to send to Arkell's, and request him to dispatch his medal here, if the dean approves," interposed Mr. St. John, speaking for the first time.
The dean did approve, and Cookesley was despatched on the errand. He brought back the medal. Henry was not in the way, but Mrs. Arkell had found it and given it to him.
"Now what do you mean by your conduct?" sternly asked the dean of Aultane.
"I know he pledged it on Saturday, if he has got it out to-day," persisted the discomfited Aultane, who was in a terrible state, between wishing to prove his charge true, and the fear of compromising himself.
"I know Henry Arkell could not be guilty of a despicable action," spoke up Mr. St. John; "and, hearing of this charge, I went to Rutterley's to ask him a few questions. He informed me there was a college boy at his place on Saturday, endeavouring to pledge a table-spoon, but he knew the crest, and would not take it in—not wishing, he said, to encourage boys to rob their parents. Perhaps Aultane can tell the dean who that was?"
There was a dead silence in the school, and the look of amazement on the head-master's face was only matched by the confusion of Aultane's. The dean, a kind-hearted man, would not examine further.