and with your name written in it." The voice made me think of "and God spake" in the Bible.
He looked at me in such a way that I felt sure I was going to be flogged. What had I done? And why? I couldn't quite remember. No explanation came to me. The simple truth was too silly to mention. I had nothing to say except to admit everything. The man, with his awful manner and appalling aspect, terrified me. I stood speechless and paralysed, wondering what was coming next. The red whiskers made me think of Satan.
I little dreamed, however, that the headmaster would say what he then did say. He spoke with a terribly slow, deliberate emphasis.
"This is as grave a case of stealing," fell the awful words of judgment, "as ever came before a Criminal Judge. I have sent for your father."
I was petrified. It was enough to frighten any boy into his boots.
My father in due course arrived; Gildea's parents, both of them, arrived likewise; there were consultations, mysterious comings and goings; it was a day of gloom and terror; for some reason I made no attempt to defend myself; it all flabbergasted, frightened, puzzled me beyond understanding. I was made to confess to Gildea and to apologize to the parents. To my own father I said nothing. He looked troubled, yet somehow not as grave as he ought to have looked. Perhaps he had his doubts. . . . What that fiendish headmaster, whose name I will not mention, had said behind my back, I did not know, for my father never referred to the matter afterwards, and both I and my brother were removed from the school at the end of the term. But I was severely punished—sent to Coventry for three days—for doing something I had both done and had not done, and the phrase "Criminal Judge" was burnt into my memory with letters of fire. My revenge was rather an oblique one—a fight with that headmaster's son, though about quite another matter. With each blow I landed—and I landed several—I saw red whiskers on a boy about my own age!
