“Well, he did. And that’s one reason why he decided to punish the whole school by sending Mr Nicholson away. I suppose, as a matter of fact, you told Roe?” Coles pushed his chair angrily away from him and faced Rouse across a clear space. When next he spoke his voice was thick. His wicked temper was rising rapidly beyond control. “Is this all you came in for? Did you butt in here and wake me up just to chuck lies at me, or is there anything else you want to say? If not you can get out, and as quickly as you like. You may think you’re still captain of footer, and you may think sheer swank will carry you through to the end of the term. But it won’t go much further with me. I’ve had enough of it. Either get out or apologise.” [Illustration: “I THINK YOU’VE SEEN THAT BEFORE?”] Rouse drew back a little. He was slowly turning up the sleeves of his jacket. “I came in here to hit you under the chin. As soon as you’re ready I’ll begin.” Coles looked at him with a certain narrow satisfaction, then pushed the table to one side and moved a chair. “You can see how much space there is here. You’ll have to stand up to it. It won’t be much use running round the room when you find how it hurts.” Then as he put up his hands Rouse stepped in without delay and struck at him with his clenched fist. What followed was very much what might have been expected. For a little while Rouse appeared likely to slaughter his man before the fight had really got going. His blows knew the utter fury of one who fights with right upon his side but very little science. Any one of these blows would, had they landed fairly and squarely upon their target, have put Coles down and out. Unhappily they were all partly warded off. Coles merely seemed to stand aside and watch Rouse interestedly as he strove to find an opening, and at last, when the opportunity arose, he hit back at him with all his force and brought him up short.