The magistrate did his best to look grave as he turned to Mr Jarman.
“Does this explanation help to clear up the mystery?”
Mr Jarman bit his lips and said,—
“If it is as they say, it may account for the explosion. I certainly dropped several matches through the grating.”
“It is as we say, isn’t it, you chaps?” said Langrish. “We wouldn’t tell a cram about it.”
“Rather not!” chimed we.
“Very well. Then I don’t see that I can do much good,” said the magistrate. “Dr England will know better how to deal with the matter. An accident is an accident after all; and if I may give an opinion, these boys have done quite properly in coming here and telling all about it. Little boys should not be allowed to play with explosives. At the same time, you must allow me to say, Mr Jarman, that it is unfortunate for a master to put himself in the position of being made the subject of an effigy. As for Tempest, there is absolutely nothing against him, unless according to the rules of the school it is an offence for a boy who is locked up in a dark room at night to do his best to get out. It is a great pity the matter was brought to me at all; but as it has been, my advice is to let it rest where it is. Meanwhile, this poor fellow who has been injured has some claim, and I dare say this sovereign will help get him the necessary bandages and plaster for his forehead. Good morning, Dr England; good morning, Mr Jarman. Good day, my lads. Let this be a lesson against touch-paper tongues.” So ended the famous affair of Mr Jarman’s guy.