Felgate, as we have said, had almost forgotten the existence of the sweep or the fact that he had given his name to the venture. When therefore Railsford unexpectedly walked into his study, he did not in any way connect the visit with that trivial incident. He conjured up in his mind any possible motive the master could have for this interview. He could only think of one, and perceiving a paper in Railsford’s hands, concluded that he had discovered the authorship of a certain anonymous letter addressed to Mr Bickers, and had looked in for a little explanation.
Felgate was quite prepared to gratify him, and promised himself a cheerful quarter of an hour over so congenial an occupation. He was, in consequence, considerably mortified when the real object of the visit unfolded itself.
“Felgate,” said Railsford, “I have come to you on very unpleasant business. This is not the first time I have had to caution you that your example in the house is neither worthy of a prefect nor a senior boy.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Felgate, with ostentatious indifference. He had better have remained silent, for Railsford dismissed whatever of mildness he had come armed with, and stood on his dignity.
“Don’t be impertinent, Felgate; it will do you no good. I want to know how it comes that your name appears here at the head of a list of entries for a sweepstake on a horse race, when you as a prefect know that gambling in any shape or form is strictly prohibited here?”
Felgate, taken back by this unexpected indictment, looked at the paper and laughed.
“I really don’t know how my name comes there. I can’t be supposed to know why anybody who likes should write my name down on a piece of paper.”
“You mean to say that you never entered your name?” asked Railsford, beginning to feel a sense of relief.
“Certainly not.”
“You were asked to do so? What did you reply?”