"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?"
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?"