To all, Mr. Fledgeby listened with the modest gravity becoming a confiding young man who knew it all beforehand, and, when it was finished, seriously shook his head. “I don’t like, Mr. Twemlow,” said Fledgeby, “I don’t like Riah’s calling in the principal. If he’s determined to call it in, it must come.”

“But supposing, sir,” said Twemlow, downcast, “that it can’t come?”

“Then,” retorted Fledgeby, “you must go, you know.”

“Where?” asked Twemlow, faintly.

“To prison,” returned Fledgeby. Whereat Mr. Twemlow leaned his innocent head upon his hand, and moaned a little moan of distress and disgrace.