Brigson winced back, and said nothing. "As I thought,"
said Mr. Rose.
"Not _one_ boy only, but many, were engaged. I shall call you up one by
one to answer me. Wildney, come here."
The boy walked in front of the desk.
"Were you one of those who threw?"
Wildney, full as he was of dangerous and deadly faults, was no coward,
and not a liar. He knew, or at least feared, that this new scrape might
be fatal to him, but, raising his dark and glistening eyes to Mr. Rose,
he said penitently--
"I didn't throw, sir, but I _did_ put out one of the candles that it
might be done."
The contrast with Brigson was very great; the dark cloud hung a little
less darkly on Mr. Rose's forehead, and there was a very faint murmur
of applause.
"Good! stand back. Pietrie, come up."
Pietrie, too, confessed, and indeed all the rest of the plotters except
Brooking. Mr. Rose's lip curled with scorn as he heard the exclamation
which his denial caused; but he suffered him to sit down.
When Wright's turn came to be asked, Mr.
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