Part 5 (1/2)

”Yes.” (Sensation.)

”Philip,” said Mr. Pocklington, ”that pa.s.sage leads only to the Study.

What other motive can have taken you there?”

No answer. It is difficult on the spur of the moment to frame a plausible excuse for having in cold blood arranged a sanguinary encounter outside your Princ.i.p.al's study door.

”Do you decline to answer?”

Again no reply from Pip. Another pause. Mr. Pocklington, now as excited as a terrier halfway down a rabbit-hole, with difficulty refrained from p.r.o.nouncing sentence on the spot. However, he restrained himself so far as to remember to sum up.

”Appearances are against you, Philip,” he began. ”You were seen leaving the--the scene of the outrage in a suspicious manner shortly after that outrage was committed. You decline to state what business took you there. No one else visited the spot during the time under consideration--at least--by the way, _did_ you see any one else while you--during that period?”

This chance shot hit Pip hard. That Isabel Dinting should have painted Julius Caesar's nose red seemed almost beyond the bounds of human probability. Still she undoubtedly _had_ been there, and with Mr.

Pocklington in his present state the sudden revelation of such a fact would probably cause a perfect eruption. Pip hesitated.

”Was any one else there?” reiterated Mr. Pocklington.

Pip was essentially a truthful boy, and the idea of saying, ”No” never occurred to him. Accordingly he said nothing, as before.

The eruption immediately took place.

”Philip,” thundered Mr. Pocklington, ”I have asked you two questions.

You have answered neither of them. Do you decline to do so?”

A very long pause this time. Then--”Yes,” said Pip briefly.

”In that case,” replied Mr. Pocklington, metaphorically a.s.suming the black cap, ”I must p.r.o.nounce you guilty. Still, I would rather you confessed than were convicted. I will give you one more minute.”

Sixty palpitating seconds pa.s.sed. Forty juvenile hearts b.u.mped tumultuously, and Pip still stood up, a very straight, very silent, and not undignified little figure.

”Have you anything further to say?” inquired Mr. Pocklington at last, now almost convinced that he was the Lord Chief Justice himself.

Pip shook his head. He seldom wasted words.

”Then I p.r.o.nounce you guilty. You have committed an offence against decency and good taste that I have never known paralleled in the history of this school. Your punishment”--the children held their breath--”must be a matter for consideration. Meanwhile--”

Mr. Pocklington paused, and frowned at Isabel Dinting, who was groping for something in her desk.

”Meanwhile,” he continued, having suddenly decided to keep Pip in durance vile until a punishment could be devised in keeping with his crime, ”you will be incarcerated--Well, Isabel?”

Isabel Dinting was standing up in her place, with her small countenance flushed and apprehensive, but bravely waving one hand in the air to attract attention. In the other she grasped a rather grubby and bulgy envelope.

”Please, _may_ I speak to Pi--Philip?” she gasped.

Mr. Pocklington was too surprised to be pedantic.

”To Philip? Why, my child?”

”Because--well, because I've got somefing to give him.”