“This is hardly an apology,” said he to the doctor.
“I trust, Tempest, it means that you regret your action?”
It was an awkward question. Tempest had gone further than any one expected, and his silence now reminded the doctor what the cost had been.
“I think,” said he, not waiting for a reply to his own question, “Tempest has fulfilled his pledged—not cordially, I am sorry to say, but sufficiently.”
“Very well, sir,” said Mr Jarman, “I accept his apology for what it is worth, which seems very little.”
“Now, I regret to say,” continued the head master, producing a letter which made my heart jump to my mouth, “I have a more serious matter to speak about. I wish heartily what we have just heard had been the end of this painful interview. But it is necessary to refer to something different—a very serious offence against rules. It concerns you, Tempest. Is it a fact that you are in debt to some of the tradesmen?”
Tempest changed colour again and replied,—
“Yes, sir, I am sorry to say I am.”
I held on tight to my desk. This was a finishing touch surely, and I, if any one, felt myself the criminal.
“This letter, addressed to me, but containing a bill for more than two pounds owing by you, part of it since last term, has been left at my house—I presume by the tradesman to whom it is due. Come here and look at it, Tempest.”