"I have already said, sir, that Paradyne is safe for me. I will keep my word."
"I'll never tell upon him, Sir Simon," added Irby; "I'll make him my friend, if you like."
"Is the fellow to stop?" asked Trace.
"Yes, sir, he is to stop," replied Sir Simon, turning sharply upon the speaker. "It is Dr. Brabazon's pleasure that he should stop, and it is mine also. What have you to say against it?"
"Nothing at all," quietly replied Trace.
"That's well," returned Sir Simon, in a cynical tone of suavity. "And now, mind you, Trace—all of you mind—if unpleasantness does arise to this unlucky boy through either of you, I'll—I'll—by George! I'll make him, young Paradyne, my heir."
He turned off in the direction of the plantation, curious to examine the scene of the last night's outrage. Quite one half of the college had gathered there, and the rest ran up now. Sir Simon laid his hand upon Dick Loftus.
"So! This was your doing!"
"Don't, uncle," said Dick, wincing; "I'm as vexed about it as you can be. I'd rather have been shot myself."
"That's what Bertie says. A pretty pair of nephews I've got!" continued Sir Simon, using his stick on the ground violently, to the admiration of the surrounding throng. "The one smuggles pistols into the school, and the other brings 'em out and shoots a boy!"