He either did not hear or did not heed the discussion that was going on; and I must confess I felt half-frightened as my eyes suddenly met his.

Not that he looked dangerous.

He had a strange look--half of baffled rage and half of shame--which was quite new to me, and I waited anxiously to discover what he meant.
As his eye met mine, however, he seemed to recover himself and to make up his mind.
"Batchelor," said he, "get the screwdriver." "What are you going to do ?" asked some one.

"Are you going to lock Hawkesbury out ?" "No," said Smith, quietly; "but I'm going to let out the others." "What!" cried the fellows at this astounding announcement: "without waiting for their answer?
We shall all get expelled!" "No, you won't!" said Smith, doggedly, and rather scornfully.
"You don't mean to say you're going to show the white feather ?" said Rathbone.
"I mean to say I'm going to let them out." "Yes, and get all the credit of it, and leave us to get into the row," said Philpot.
Smith turned round short on the speaker and held out the screwdriver.
"Here," said he, "if you want the credit, go and do it yourself!" Of course, Philpot declined the tempting offer, and, without another word, Smith walked up to the passage and began pulling away the desks from the parlour door.
Flanagan and one or two of us, sorely perplexed, helped him; the others stood aloof and grumbled or sneered.
The two masters within heard the noise, but neither of them spoke.
At last all was clear, and Smith said, "Now then, you'd better go, you fellows!" We obeyed him, though reluctantly.

Our curiosity as well as our anxiety prompted us to stay.