THE coach rolled away from the door of Tudor Hall. The large schoolroom, tenanted only by two small boys crouching close to one of the windows, looked bare and grim. It was raining so fast that they could not go into the playground. The dusty roads and scorched gardens of the London suburb needed rain badly, but what cared the boys for that? The downpour swelled the sense of wrong which filled the bosom of the elder, Marmaduke (generally known as Duke) Bryden, a well-grown boy of twelve, for this was "breaking-up day," and these boys had seen their schoolmates depart gleefully for home while they, having no home, were to spend their holidays at the schoolhouse.…
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