"You are excused, Mr. Button," he said, "from the rest of this lesson, which I will take myself; but you will do me the honour to call on me immediately after evensong this afternoon."
His fierce eye wandered from Mr. Button's stricken face to David's desk, where lay the inky dart.
"You are engaged now, I see, in some inquiry," he said. "A paper dart, I perceive, on Blaize's desk. I will conduct the inquiry myself, and wish you a good afternoon."
He waited in tense silence till Mr. Button had taken his hat and left the room. Then he turned to Bavid.
"Blaize, did you make that dart, or did you throw it?" he asked.
An expression of despairing determination had come into Bavid's face. He was conscious also of a large ink-stain on his lips.
"Neither, sir," he said.
"Then who made it?" said the Head