“Besides this, 849 people were transported.”
“By Jeffreys, sir?”
“Yes,” replied the owner of the name, finally throwing off all disguise and giving himself up to his fate, “by this wicked Jeffreys.”
“Yes, sir; and what else did he do?”
Trimble, as he looked every now and then down the room, was astonished to notice the quiet which prevailed in the lower class, and the interest with which every boy was listening to the new master.
He did not like it. He couldn’t manage to interest his class, and it didn’t please him at all that this casual newcomer should come and cut him out before his face.
After a while he walked down the room and approached the assistant’s desk.
He was convinced this, unwonted order could not result from any legitimate cause.
“You don’t seem to be doing much work here, I must say,” said he. “Give me the book, Mr Jeffreys: I want to see what they know of the lesson. Where’s the place?”
Jeffreys handed the book, putting his finger on the place.