Hopkins, the Bishop's son, being less certain about the accuracy of
Providence than His aim, edged as far as he could away from Benham's
cubicle and rolled his head in his bedclothes.

"And anyhow," said Benham, when it was clear that he was not to be
struck dead forthwith, "you show a poor idea of your God to think
he'd kill a schoolboy for honest doubt. Even old Roddles--"

"I can't listen to you," cried Latham the humourist, "I can't listen
to you. It's--HORRIBLE."

"Well, who began it?" asked Benham.

A flash of lightning lit the dormitory and showed him to White
white-faced and ablaze with excitement, sitting up with the bed-
clothes about him. "Oh WOW!" wailed the muffled voice of little
Hopkins as the thunder burst like a giant pistol overhead, and he
buried his head still deeper in the bedclothes and gave way to
unappeasable grief.

Latham's voice came out of the darkness. "This ATHEISM that you and
Billy Prothero have brought into the school--"

He started violently at another vivid flash, and every one remained
silent, waiting for the thunder. . . .

But White remembered no more of the controversy because he had made
a frightful discovery that filled and blocked his mind. Every time
the lightning flashed, there was a red light in Benham's eyes. . . .