Very carefully had the Head followed this argument. He didn't like Mr. Axim overmuch, but he knew him to be a shrewd fellow. For the life of him he could see no fault in this argument. It was a terrible indictment. Everything seemed to argue against the truth of Clive's story. Everything? No. Let him declare the name of this fellow he had chased. Then let them confront him. That would clear his name absolutely.
"Clive Darrell," said the Head sternly, though kindly, "you have followed Mr. Axim? The evidence looks black against you. As to the motive, I find it harder to believe that you would play to the gallery for any post than I do to conceive of any reason for your firing these buildings. One thing alone can clear you. Give me the name of this person you followed. Let us bring him face to face with you."
There was dead silence. Mr. Axim actually smiled. Masters looked terribly distressed, while the Head seemed thoroughly miserable.
"Then go to your dormitory. You will be expelled in the morning."
It was a disastrous ending to the ambitions of our hero.
There were white faces amongst the members of the Old Firm on the morning following Clive's arrest by Mr. Axim, and the sentence which the Head had passed on him. The school itself was agog with the news.
"Darrell's bunked! Heard it? What's he done?" was passing on every side.
The prefects discussed the matter for the most part sorrowfully and a little shamefacedly. It was a terrible blow to them to find that amongst their number there was such a criminal.
"It's more than a bunking business," said Roper. "It's a case for the criminal courts. Darrell'll get years of imprisonment. Arson is a most serious offence. I wouldn't have thought it of him."
"I don't believe it. There's some mistake, I'm positive," declared Jenkins, one of Clive's particular friends. "Hear what the Old Firm have to say."
But that the Sixth were not likely to have an opportunity of hearing, for Bert and Hugh and the others were collected together at that moment in the Gym, whither they had departed so as to have peace, and so as to be able to discuss matters in private. Hugh, as if habit were too strong for him, sat across the horse. Bert, his face unusually stern, leaned against the same apparatus. Susanne stood close at hand, his broad shoulders stooping to a marked degree on this fatal morning. As for Trendall, there was grief written unmistakably on his decidedly pleasant features. Then Masters joined them. They were awaiting his coming, and gave vent to sighs of relief as he came through the Gym doorway and walked toward them. But it was a weary, despondent Masters. There was not the usual elasticity about his step. This fellow, apt to see fun in almost anything, and very seldom down-hearted, might have been at this instant preparing to attend his own funeral.