I knew I had lost caste with the fellows; I had seriously compromised myself with the head master.

At least, I told myself, I had escaped the desperate fate of saying anything against the Dux.

For the sake of that, I could afford to put up with the other two consequences.
The grand inquest came to an end.

One candid youth admitted that all he knew of the matter was that he was very glad Hector was dead, and for this impious irrelevance he was ordered to write an appalling imposition and forfeit several half-holidays.

But that, for the time being, was the worst thunderbolt that fell from the doctor's armoury.
The Dux was kindly waiting for me outside.