By murdering in cold blood a large and respected family, and afterwardsdepositing their bodies in a reservoir, one may gain, we are told, muchunpopularity in the neighbourhood of one's crime; while robbing achurch will get one cordially disliked especially by the vicar. But, tobe really an outcast, to feel that one has no friend in the world, onemust break an important public-school commandment.

　　Sheen had always been something of a hermit. In his most sociablemoments he had never had more than one or two friends; but he had neverbefore known what it meant to be completely isolated. It was likeliving in a world of ghosts, or, rather, like being a ghost in a livingworld. That disagreeable experience of being looked through, as if onewere invisible, comes to the average person, it may be half a dozentimes in his life. Sheen had to put up with it a hundred times a day.

　　People who were talking to one another stopped when he appeared andwaited until he had passed on before beginning again. Altogether, hewas made to feel that he had done for himself, that, as far as the lifeof the school was concerned, he did not exist.

　　There had been some talk, particularly in the senior day-room, of moreactive measures. It was thought that nothing less than a court-martialcould meet the case. But the house prefects had been against it. Sheenwas in the sixth, and, however monstrous and unspeakable might havebeen his acts, it would hardly do to treat him as if he were a junior.

　　And the scheme had been definitely discouraged by Drummond, who hadstated, without wrapping the gist of his remarks in elusive phrases,that in the event of a court-martial being held he would interview thepresident of the same and knock his head off. So Seymour's had fallenback on the punishment which from their earliest beginnings the publicschools have meted out to their criminals. They had cut Sheen dead.

　　In a way Sheen benefited from this excommunication. Now that he couldnot even play fives, for want of an opponent, there was nothing leftfor him to do but work. Fortunately, he had an object. The Gotfordwould be coming on in a few weeks, and the more work he could do forit, the better. Though Stanning was the only one of his rivals whom hefeared, and though _he_ was known to be taking very little troubleover the matter, it was best to run as few risks as possible. Stanningwas one of those people who produce great results in their work withoutseeming to do anything for them.

　　So Sheen shut himself up in his study and ground grimly away at hisbooks, and for exercise went for cross-country walks. It was amonotonous kind of existence. For the space of a week the onlyWrykinian who spoke a single word to him was Bruce, the son of theConservative candidate for Wrykyn: and Bruce's conversation had beenlimited to two remarks. He had said, "You might play that again, willyou?" and, later, "Thanks". He had come into the music-room while Sheenwas practising one afternoon, and had sat down, without speaking, on achair by the door. When Sheen had played for the second time the piecewhich had won his approval, Bruce thanked him and left the room. As thesolitary break in the monotony of the week, Sheen remembered theincident rather vividly.

　　Since the great rout of Albert and his minions outside Cook's, things,as far as the seniors were concerned, had been quiet between school andtown. Linton and Dunstable had gone to and from Cook's two days insuccession without let or hindrance. It was generally believed that,owing to the unerring way in which he had put his head in front ofDrummond's left on that memorable occasion, the scarlet-haired one wasat present dry-docked for repairs. The story in the school--it hadgrown with the days--was that Drummond had laid the enemy out on thepavement with a sickening crash, and that he had still been there at,so to speak, the close of play. As a matter of fact, Albert was inexcellent shape, and only an unfortunate previous engagement preventedhim from ranging the streets near Cook's as before. Sir William Brucewas addressing a meeting in another part of the town, and Albertthought it his duty to be on hand to boo.

　　In the junior portion of the school the feud with the town was brisk.

　　Mention has been made of a certain St Jude's, between which seat oflearning and the fags of Dexter's and the School House there was aspirited vendetta.

　　Jackson, of Dexter's was one of the pillars of the movement. Jacksonwasa calm-brow'd lad,Yet mad, at moments, as a hatter,and he derived a great deal of pleasure from warring against St Jude's.

　　It helped him to enjoy his meals. He slept the better for it. After alittle turn up with a Judy he was fuller of that spirit of manlyfortitude and forbearance so necessary to those whom Fate broughtfrequently into contact with Mr Dexter. The Judies wore mortar-boards,and it was an enjoyable pastime sending these spinning into spaceduring one of the usual _rencontres_ in the High Street. From thefact that he and his friends were invariably outnumbered, there was asporting element in these affairs, though occasionally this inferiorityof numbers was the cause of his executing a scientific retreat with theenemy harassing his men up to the very edge of the town. This hadhappened on the last occasion. There had been casualties. No fewer thansix house-caps had fallen into the enemy's hands, and he himself hadbeen tripped up and rolled in a puddle.

　　He burned to avenge this disaster.

　　"Corning down to Cook's?" he said to his ally, Painter. It was just aweek since the Sheen episode.

　　"All right," said Painter.

　　"Suppose we go by the High Street," suggested Jackson, casually.

　　"Then we'd better get a few more chaps," said Painter.

　　A few more chaps were collected, and the party, numbering eight, setoff for the town. There were present such stalwarts as Borwick andCrowle, both of Dexter's, and Tomlin, of the School House, a useful manto have by you in an emergency. It was Tomlin who, on one occasion,attacked by two terrific champions of St Jude's in a narrow passage,had vanquished them both, and sent their mortar-boards miles into theempyrean, so that they were never the same mortar-boards again, butwore ever after a bruised and draggled look.

　　The expedition passed down the High Street without adventure, until, bycommon consent, it stopped at the lofty wall which bounded theplayground of St Jude's.

　　From the other side of the wall came sounds of revelry, shrillsquealings and shoutings. The Judies were disporting themselves at oneof their weird games. It was known that they played touch-last, andScandal said that another of their favourite recreations was marbles.

　　The juniors at Wrykyn believed that it was to hide these excesses fromthe gaze of the public that the playground wall had been made so high.

　　Eye-witnesses, who had peeped through the door in the said wall,reported that what the Judies seemed to do mostly was to chase oneanother about the playground, shrieking at the top of their voices.

　　But, they added, this was probably a mere ruse to divert suspicion.

　　They had almost certainly got the marbles in their pockets all thetime.

　　The expedition stopped, and looked itself in the face.

　　"How about buzzing something at them?" said Jackson earnestly.

　　"You can get oranges over the road," said Tomlin in his helpful way.

　　Jackson vanished into the shop indicated, and reappeared a few momentslater with a brown paper bag.

　　"It seems a beastly waste," suggested the economical Painter.

　　"That's all right," said Jackson, "they're all bad. The man thought Iwas rotting him when I asked if he'd got any bad oranges, but I gotthem at last. Give us a leg up, some one."Willing hands urged him to the top of the wall. He drew out a greenorange, and threw it.

　　There was a sudden silence on the other side of the wall. Then a howlof wrath went up to the heavens. Jackson rapidly emptied his bag.

　　"Got him!" he exclaimed, as the last orange sped on its way. "Look out,they're coming!"The expedition had begun to move off with quiet dignity, when from thedoorway in the wall there poured forth a stream of mortar-boardedwarriors, shrieking defiance. The expedition advanced to meet them.

　　As usual, the Judies had the advantage in numbers, and, filled to thebrim with righteous indignation, they were proceeding to make thingsuncommonly warm for the invaders--Painter had lost his cap, and Tomlinthree waistcoat buttons--when the eye of Jackson, roving up and downthe street, was caught by a Seymour's cap. He was about to shout forassistance when he perceived that the newcomer was Sheen, andrefrained. It was no use, he felt, asking Sheen for help.

　　But just as Sheen arrived and the ranks of the expedition werebeginning to give way before the strenuous onslaught of the Judies, thelatter, almost with one accord, turned and bolted into their playgroundagain. Looking round, Tomlin, that first of generals, saw the reason,and uttered a warning.

　　A mutual foe had appeared. From a passage on the left of the road therehad debouched on to the field of action Albert himself and two of hisband.

　　The expedition flew without false shame. It is to be doubted whetherone of Albert's calibre would have troubled to attack such small game,but it was the firm opinion of the Wrykyn fags and the Judies that heand his men were to be avoided.

　　The newcomers did not pursue them. They contented themselves withshouting at them. One of the band threw a stone.

　　Then they caught sight of Sheen.

　　Albert said, "Oo er!" and advanced at the double. His companionsfollowed him.

　　Sheen watched them come, and backed against the wall. His heart wasthumping furiously. He was in for it now, he felt. He had come down tothe town with this very situation in his mind. A wild idea of doingsomething to restore his self-respect and his credit in the eyes of thehouse had driven him to the High Street. But now that the crisis hadactually arrived, he would have given much to have been in his studyagain.

　　Albert was quite close now. Sheen could see the marks which hadresulted from his interview with Drummond. With all his force Sheen hitout, and experienced a curious thrill as his fist went home. It was apoor blow from a scientific point of view, but Sheen's fives had givenhim muscle, and it checked Albert. That youth, however, recoveredrapidly, and the next few moments passed in a whirl for Sheen. Hereceived a stinging blow on his left ear, and another which deprivedhim of his whole stock of breath, and then he was on the ground,conscious only of a wish to stay there for ever.