Up went the birch, and came down again on its hard end. Dr. Brabazon was by no means a choleric man; but he could be so when greatly provoked.
"Mr. Henry—no, don't rise, don't quit your place—of what height was the boy you saw running away?"
The Doctor's voice—a sonorous voice at all times—went rolling down the spacious room to the opposite corner, where Mr. Henry sat behind his desk. The latter hesitated in his reply, and the boys turned their eyes from the Head Master to him.
"I cannot say positively, sir," was the foreign master's answer. "It was so momentary a glimpse that I caught."
"Yet you met him—as I am given to understand—face to face!"
"I did; but he glided aside at once amidst the trees. He was of a good height."
"Tall enough for a senior boy?"
"Yes, certainly: I think so."
The birch agitated itself gently, as if the Doctor's hand shook a little, and he looked full at the first desk, regarding those seated at it in individual turn.
"I thought I could have trusted you all; I deemed there was not one of you that I might not have relied upon. Gall, did you do this? I ask you chiefly for form's sake, for you had not come back to college. Did you fire, by accident or design, this pistol off in the plantation last night?"