Dead silence. The boys for the most part looked straight before them with heightened colour, and watched the slow progress of the minute-hand of the clock.
“I repeat the question now,” said the doctor, when the allotted time had run—“Was any boy here concerned in the outrage on Mr Bickers? or does any boy know who was? If so, let him stand up.”
The silence which followed was broken to some by the thumping of their own hearts. But no one rose; and a sense of relief came to all but Railsford, who felt his spirits sink as the prospect of a near end to his trouble receded.
“Every boy here,” said the doctor, slowly, “denies all knowledge of the affair?”
Silence gave consent.
“Then,” continued the head-master, more severely, putting up his eyeglass, and handing the list to Ainger, “I shall put the question to each boy separately. Call over the list, and let each boy come up and answer.”
Ainger began by calling out his own name, and forthwith walked up to the master’s desk.
“Do you know anything whatever of this affair?” asked the doctor, looking him full in the face.
“No, sir,” said Ainger, returning the look, after his fashion, half defiantly.
The next name was called, and its owner marched up to the desk and uttered his denial. Railsford, as he stood scanning keenly the face of each boy in turn, felt that he was watching the action of some strange machine. First Ainger’s clear voice. Then the short “Adsum,” and the footsteps up to the desk. Then the doctor’s stern question. Then the quick look-up and the half-defiant “No, sir,” (for they all caught up the captain’s tone). And, finally, the retreating footsteps, and the silence preceding the next name.