When he got to the principal's office--a little late, which was
not entirely by accident--he found that Mallison and a few of his
fellow-students were sitting opposite the desk in hard chairs.
The principal behind it gave Dax a reprimanding look, and then one at
his watch. On one side of him were a group of teachers and a member
of the school board who Dax remembered was Mr. Lightstone's especial
crony. On the other were Mrs. Lightstone--a dour but subservient
partner to her husband--and an empty chair.
The principal pointed to the chair and said, "We have been waiting
for your arrival to begin, Mr. Dax." He turned to Mallison as Dax sat
down, and said, "You are, I believe, what is known as a 'hep-cat'?" He
waited but Mallison said nothing. His face was very white and he looked
sullen. "Well, answer me, sir!" the principal said loudly.
"You didn't ask me anything," the boy said in a low voice. "You told
me."
The principal pushed his lips out and breathed deeply. He took
something from his pocket and held it up. Dax saw it was the packet of
alleged heroin.
"Did you throw this out of the window of Mr. Dax's class room?"
The boy looked at it incomprehendingly and shook his head.
"Do you know what it is? Have you seen this packet before?"
"No, Mr. Lightstone...."
"You sound uncertain. Think carefully, Mallison." The principal put the
packet on his desk and unfolded it. Everyone bent forward and looked at
it--including Mallison, who shook his head again.
Dax leaned across Mrs. Lightstone and whispered to her husband, "Did
you have it analyzed?"
The principal shook his head impatiently. "Not yet! There was no one in
the Chemistry Department!" He cleared his throat importantly. "Well?
What have you to say?"
Mallison apparently had nothing to say. He swallowed and looked at
one of the boys next him. Mr. Lightstone leaned back in his chair and
turned to address the group on his right--the school board man in
particular. "This," he said, tapping the packet, "was thrown out of a
window of the physics class room today. These are the boys that sit
next those windows. I have every reason to suspect Mallison."
The group nodded. Dax realized that they had been briefed in advance.
The boy Mallison had certainly a sulky and uncooperative air. He seemed
the epitome of juvenile delinquency on the defensive, and yet....
* * * * *
"You," the principal said to the boys, "are a little band of
trouble-makers. You cut classes, you stay up late and go to what I
believe you call juke-joints. I have heard reports of your riding in
hot-rods!" He paused significantly.
"None of us here's got a car," Mallison said in a flat voice. He was
definitely sneering now. "I've never even _seen_ a real drag-race!"
Mr. Lightstone blinked. The word was unfamiliar to him, but it had a
disreputable ring to it. "And I suppose you've never taken narcotics?"
There was a dead silence. Mallison clamped his mouth shut, and his face
became wooden.
Mr. Lightstone addressed the boy next him. "Have _you_ ever seen any of
the boys use this?" He tapped the packet again. "Did you see Mallison
throw it out of the window? You sit behind him!"
The boy looked blank and glanced at Mallison. "No, sir," he said.
"But you couldn't have missed seeing him!"
"Excuse me a minute," Dax said. "These boys aren't a _band_ exactly.
They just happen to sit next the windows."
Mr. Lightstone looked offended but resourceful. "They picked those
seats themselves. That's what a clique does. It--"
"I assign all the pupils to their desks," Dax said, and felt he was
turning pink.
The principal took this in his stride by ignoring it. "And _you_," he
said to the boy on Mallison's other side. "What have you to say?"
The boy frowned and stuttered.
Dax was beginning to feel annoyed although he didn't know exactly why.
For one thing, he had let himself seem to be defending Mallison. It
was his craze for accuracy, of course. "I don't understand why the
parents of these boys aren't here," he was surprised to hear himself
say. "It seems to me they ought to have some kind of defense counsel if
there is going to be a trial."
The principal looked at him steadily. "Would _you_ care to act in that
capacity?"
Dax felt that he was getting redder than ever. "Have you had a doctor
examine Mallison for ... for the effects of narcotics?" he said.
"Where are these policemen you said you spoke to? Shouldn't they be
informed of your suspicions, instead of holding a kind of star chamber
inquisition? It's ... it's _medieval_!"
Mr. Lightstone glared at him in astonishment.
Dax had a sudden thought. "The chemistry lab is right over my class
room," he said. "Why couldn't the packet have fallen from there?"
"What would _they_ be doing with heroin?"
"But we don't know yet that--"
The principal interrupted him and swept his arm in a gesture of
all-inclusive condemnation. "We will in good time! But if you have
never seen guilt before, you see it now!" He looked at the startled
young faces with abhorrence. "Look at them!"
* * * * *
Dax had a curious and violent revulsion, although he hadn't followed
the line of reasoning in Lightstone's last remark. In fact, he
realized that he hadn't really heard the words. But the principal's
angry face made his hackles rise.
The principal had a menacing look. He was the most dangerous looking
thing he had ever seen. A convulsive shudder went through all of Dax's
muscles, and he leapt--straight across Mrs. Lightstone's lap, who fell
over backwards, screaming. Everyone was making loud, garbled noises,
and he was on top of Lightstone, scratching and biting.
He heard himself give a loud, warlike and triumphant yowl.