The spring term was but a few days old when Salter received a summons to present himself at the Principal’s office immediately after his morning recitation. Such invitations were not frequent with Salter, who, as we have seen, led a particularly inoffensive life, gave scrupulous heed to the rules, and did his work with exemplary regularity. His record was clear of all sins of omission and of commission; but on the score of permission he was not so innocent. He had a gloomy presentiment, as he dragged himself up the walk to his destination, that the long-deferred reckoning for the trap-door and the nocturnal exits through his window was now at hand. He went hopeless and helpless in the horns of his dilemma, forbidden by the perverse principle of school honor to confess the truth, yet bound to be credited with deception and wrong-doing if he did not.
“Salter,” began the Principal, with the cautious deliberateness which he habitually used in his interviews with suspected boys, “you were allowed to occupy Mrs. Winter’s lower room because you were considered trustworthy, were you not?”
“And in taking that room you were put on your honor to conform to the school rules.”
“Explain, then, your absence from your room last night and your return through the window at half-past twelve.”
“I wasn’t out last night at all, sir,” replied Salter in a low voice, but without raising his eyes to meet Mr. Graham’s searching gaze.
“You did not go out or come in by your window last night?”
“Did you lock your door when you went to bed?”
“Was it locked when you woke this morning?”
Mr. Graham rested his forehead on his finger tips and gazed for a few moments into the fire. He was a wise man, exceptionally successful in ruling boys, largely because he treated them with common sense and justice, neither suspecting them unnecessarily nor by guileless benevolence inviting deceit. As he always made it a point whenever he dealt personally with the boys to state his views with a clearness impossible to misunderstand, and never to act until he was sure of his premises, he was never charged with underhand dealing, and made few mistakes.
In the present case the Principal’s caution served him well. He had already visited Mrs. Winter and learned that she herself tried Marchmont’s door at 10 P.M., and found it bolted within—it had no key. Marchmont, therefore, was beyond suspicion. It followed, then, that Salter was lying, or that John Drown, the man who had reported the entry by the window, was mistaken, or that all the facts in the case were not yet known. From his knowledge of Salter and Drown, Mr. Graham inclined to the last supposition.