"Nothing, Sir," said Eric, looking up innocently.

"Bring me that book under your Homer."

Eric blushed, hesitated--but at last, amid a dead silence, took up the
book. Mr. Gordon looked at it for a moment, let it fall on the ground,
and then, with an unnecessary affectation of disgust, took it up with
the tongs, and dropped it into the fire. There was a titter round
the room.

"Silence," thundered the master; "this is no matter for laughing. So,
sir, _this_ is the way you get up to the top of the form?"

"I wasn't using it, sir," said Eric.

"Not using it! Why, I saw you put it, open, under your Homer."

"It isn't mine, sir."

"Then whose is it?" Mr. Gordon looked at the fly leaf, but of course no
name was there; in those days it was dangerous to write one's name in a
translation.

Eric was silent.

"Under the circumstances, Williams, I must punish you," said Mr. Gordon.
"Of course I am _bound_ to believe you, but the circumstances are very
suspicious. You had no business with such a book at all. Hold out
your hand."