CHAPTER XX.

Hector Gains A victory.

There were two persons on whom Ben Platt’s declaration made a profound impression.  These were Jim Smith and his uncle, the learned Socrates.  The latter was surprised, for he was fully persuaded that the charge he had made was a true one, and Hector was a thief.  As for Jim, his surprise was of a very disagreeable nature.  Knowing as he did that, he himself had taken the money, he was alarmed lest his offense was to be made known, and that the pit which he had digged for another should prove to be provided for himself.

Socrates was the first to speak after taking time to recover himself from his surprise.

“This is a very extraordinary statement, Platt,” he said.  “You say you can prove Roscoe’s innocence?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Platt, firmly.

“I wish no trifling here, sir,” said the principal, sharply.  “I myself found the wallet in Roscoe’s pocket.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Ben Platt, “I know it was there.”

“You knew it was there!” repeated Socrates.  “How did you know it was there?”

“Because I saw it put in.”

Here Jim Smith’s face turned from red to pale, and he moved about uneasily in his seat.  “Could Ben Platt have been hidden somewhere in the room?” he asked himself, “If so, what was he to do?” There was but one answer to this question.  He must brazen it out, and boldly contradict the witness.  But he would bide his time.  He would wait to hear what Ben had to say.

“Did you put it in yourself?” asked Socrates, savagely.

“No, Mr. Smith, I didn’t put it in,” answered Ben, indignantly.

“None of your impudence, sir!” said the schoolmaster, irritated.

“I merely answered your question and defended myself,” answered Ben.

There was a little murmur among the pupils, showing that their sympathy was with the boy who had been so causelessly accused by the principal.

“Silence!” exclaimed Socrates, annoyed.  “Now,” he continued, turning to Ben, “since you know who put the wallet into Roscoe’s pocket—­a very remarkable statement, by the way—­will you deign to inform me who did it?”

“James Smith did it!” said Ben, looking over to the principal’s nephew, who was half expecting such an attack.

“It’s a base lie!” cried Jim, but his face was blanched, his manner was nervous and confused, and he looked guilty, if he were not so.

“My nephew?” asked Socrates, flurried.

“Yes, sir.”

“It isn’t so, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, excited.  “I’ll lick you, Ben Platt, when we get out of school.”

“You forget yourself, James,” said Socrates, with a mildness he would not have employed with any other pupil.

“I beg your pardon, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, with contrition, “but I can’t be silent when I am accused of things I don’t do.”