Soon after the seizure of the pigeons there had been a rumor that Gordon had offered a reward of this kind, but the matter had been forgotten, and the boys had long fancied their secret secure, though at first they had been terribly alarmed.

“What do you show me that for?” he asked, reddening and then growing pale again.

Billy’s only answer was to pass his finger slowly along the words “Five pounds reward!”

“Well?”

“I thinks I knows who took them pigeons.”

“What’s that to me?”

“Ho, ho, ho! that’s a good un,” was Billy’s reply; and he continued to cackle as though enjoying a great joke.

“Unless you gives me five pound, anyhow, I knows where to get ’em.  I know who them evil-disposed persons be!  So I’ll give ye another week to decide.”

Billy shambled off in high spirits; but Eric sank back into his chair.  Five pounds!  The idea haunted him.  How could he ever get them?  To write home again was out of the question.  The Trevors, though liberal, were not rich, and after just sending him so large a sum, it was impossible, he thought, that they should send him five pounds more at his mere request.  Besides, how could he be sure that Billy would not play upon his fears to extort further sums?  And to explain the matter to them fully was more than he could endure.  He remembered now how easily his want of caution might have put Billy in possession of the secret, and he knew enough of the fellow’s character to feel quite sure of the use he would be inclined to make of it.  Oh how he cursed that hour of folly!

Five pounds!  He began to think of what money he could procure.  He thought again and again, but it was no use; only one thing was clear—­he had, not the money, and could not get it.  Miserable boy!  It was too late then! for him repentance was to be made impossible; every time he attempted it he was to be thwarted by some fresh discovery.  And, leaning his head on his open palms, poor Eric sobbed like a child.

Five pounds!  And all this misery was to come upon him for the want of five pounds!  Expulsion was certain, was inevitable now, and perhaps for Wildney too as well as for himself.  After all his fine promises in his letters home,—­yes, that reminded him of Vernon.  The grave had not closed for a month over one brother, and the other would be expelled.  Oh misery, misery!  He was sure it would break his mother’s heart.  Oh how cruel everything was to him!

Five pounds—­he wondered whether Montagu would lend it him, or any other boy?  But then it was late in the quarter, and all the boys would have spent the money they brought with them from home.  There was no chance of any one having five pounds, and to a master he dare not apply, not even to Mr. Rose.  The offence was too serious to be overlooked, and if noticed at all, he fancied that, after his other delinquencies, it must, as a matter of notoriety, be visited with expulsion.  He could not face that bitter thought; he could not thus bring open disgrace upon his father’s and his brother’s name; this was the fear which kept recurring to him with dreadful iteration.