As the class-room they had selected was in a remote part of the building, there was little immediate chance of detection.  So the laughter of the party grew louder and sillier; the talk more foolish and random; the merriment more noisy and meaningless.  But still most of them mingled some sense of caution with their enjoyment, and warned Eric and Wildney more than once that they must look out, and not take too much that night for fear of being caught.  But it was Wildney’s birth-day, and Eric’s boyish mirth, suppressed by his recent troubles, was blazing out unrestrained.  In the riot of their feasting, the caution had been utterly neglected, and the boys were far from being sober when the sound of the prayer-bell ringing through the great hall, startled them into momentary consciousness.

“Good heavens!” shouted Graham, springing up; “there’s the prayer-bell; I’d no notion it was so late.  Here, let’s shove these brandy bottles and things into the cupboards and drawers, and then we must run down.”

There was no time to lose.  The least muddled of the party had cleared the room in a moment, and then addressed themselves to the more difficult task of trying to quiet Eric and Wildney, and conduct them steadily into the prayer-room.

Wildney’s seat was near the door, so there was little difficulty in getting him to his place comparatively unobserved.  Llewellyn took him by the arm, and after a little stumbling, helped him safely to his seat, where he assumed a look of preternatural gravity.  But Eric sat near the head of the first table, not far from Dr. Rowlands’ desk, and none of the others had to go to that part of the room.  Graham grasped his arm tight, led him carefully down stairs, and, as they were reaching the door, said to him, in a most earnest and imploring tone—­“Do try and walk sensibly to your place, Eric, or we shall all be caught.”

It was rather late when they got down.  Everybody was quietly seated, and most of the Bibles were already open, although the Doctor had not yet come in.  Consequently, the room was still, and the entrance of Graham and Eric after the rest attracted general notice.  Eric had just sense enough to try and assume his ordinary manner; but he was too giddy with the fumes of drink to walk straight, or act naturally.

Vernon was sitting next to Wright, and stared at his brother with great eyes and open lips.  He was not the only observer.

“Wright,” whispered he, in a timid voice; “just see how Eric walks.  What can be the matter with him?  Good gracious, he must be ill!” he said, starting up, as Eric suddenly made a great stagger to one side, and nearly fell in the attempt to recover himself.

Wright pulled the little boy down with a firm hand.

“Hush!” he whispered; “take no notice; he’s been drinking, Verny, and I fear he’ll be caught.”

Vernon instantly sat down, and turned deadly pale.  He thought, and he had hoped, that since the day at the “Jolly Herring,” his brother had abandoned all such practices, for Eric had been most careful to conceal from him the worst of his failings.  And now he trembled violently with fear for his discovery, and horror at his disgraceful condition.