.."--which was practically
going back to the beginning and starting again--when there was a knock
at the door. A voice without said, "Mr. Downing to see you, sir," and
the chief witness for the prosecution burst in.
"I would not have interrupted you," said Mr. Downing, "but--"
"Not at all, Mr. Downing. Is there anything I can ..."
"I have discovered ... I have been informed ... In short, it was not
Jackson, who committed the--who painted my dog."
Mike and the headmaster both looked at the speaker. Mike with a feeling
of relief--for Stout Denial, unsupported by any weighty evidence, is a
wearing game to play--the headmaster with astonishment.
"Not Jackson?" said the headmaster.
"No. It was a boy in the same house. Smith."
Psmith! Mike was more than surprised. He could not believe it. There is
nothing which affords so clear an index to a boy's character as the type
of rag which he considers humorous. Between what is a rag and what is
merely a rotten trick there is a very definite line drawn. Masters, as a
rule, do not realize this, but boys nearly always do. Mike could not
imagine Psmith doing a rotten thing like covering a housemaster's dog
with red paint, any more than he could imagine doing it himself.
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