“You’ve tackled Coles once,” said he. “It’s my turn. I might have better luck. I’ll go to his study and make him say where Carr’s gone.” Rouse shook his head. “No, it would be no use. If he’s at all tight he’d only make an unholy shindy. That’d be worse than anything. I’ll go out. I’ll see if I can’t find young Carr somewhere or other between here and the town and bring him in.” “Why should you go?” demanded Terence. “Supposing you get caught yourself? The Head isn’t going to give you a second chance, you know. It’s asking for trouble.” “I’ll have to go,” said Rouse, “because all the trouble is my fault. I’ve brought enough on the school to justify me in trying to save them something. There’s another thing. This is the footer season, and according to you I’m captain of footer. This is my job.” He smiled disarmingly. “You can help too,” he added. “Go over to Seymour’s and find Saville. Tell him what’s up, and see if he can’t get Carr reported present until I can get him in.” He stood up. “There’s no time to waste. It’s nearly nine now, and if Henry’s idea is right every minute’s of value. Even if he’s back by now we may be able to stop him taking the stuff to Coles. I’m going out. You get across and find Saville.” He moved to the door. “Aren’t you taking a coat,” said Terence, “or a hat? It’s precious cold.” “I’ll go as I am. At this time of night it’s less conspicuous. And I can get out by the pavilion—the way you and I used to go when we were kids.” He waited one moment, as if wondering if he had forgotten anything, then he opened the door and went out. Terence turned to Henry and looked at him in queer anxiety. “You oughtn’t to have told him,” he said. “You ought to have told me alone. You might have known he’d want to go out. He’s nearly worried to death. He feels it’s his personal responsibility to Toby to make the chaps hang together and stick it out till he can do something for us. It’s getting on his nerves. All day long he’s moving amongst the chaps telling them to keep their pecker up. He can hardly keep still. In the face of news like this he was certain to go out and try to find the shocking little ass.” Henry looked a trifle crestfallen. “I thought he ought to be told,” he said. “Yes, yes, I know,” retorted Terence. “But supposing he gets caught himself? Supposing he’s seen?” Henry made a comforting grimace. “If I know Rouse as well as I think I do,” said he, “he isn’t the sort of guy to go and get caught.” Terence slapped one hand into the other distressfully. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s just the sort of guy he _is_. He’s never made a plan since I knew him that ever went right.” * * * * *