“I’ll clear off then,” said Hallowell. “I’ve not done my prep. properly yet. See you later.” He offered them a cheery gesture of farewell, to which Henry, for his part, responded by looking at him gravely over the tops of his spectacles as if he were some form of peculiar insect. Then he set off with Bobbie Carr, and as he went he spoke in a deep, gruff voice of Coles and the kind of things he did. “Any time you find yourself up against him,” said he, “you come and tell me. Don’t you go doing half the things he’ll want you to. He goes in for betting, and he smokes and drinks and borrows money. He’ll want you to fall in with his ideas and help him out of holes. Don’t you do it. I notice Coles a good deal. I see without being seen. That’s rather a gift I have got. And if I find that you’re afraid to refuse the things he asks you to do I shall be disappointed in you, and then perhaps when you really want my help one day I shan’t be inclined to give it. You come to me. I can’t punch his head myself but I’m friendly with some who can. In fact one of my best chums here is the captain of Rugby football.” He wound up on a note of distinct self-congratulation. “Here,” he added, “this is his place. You knock on his door and go in. Explain who you are and see if he wants to speak to you. I’ll wait out here.” Bobbie went to the door and knocked. He was a lithe youngster, and even Henry could not help noticing the easy grace of his movements. For a moment he stood there listening. There was no answer. He knocked again. “Go in,” said Henry solemnly. “He isn’t there.” Bobbie opened the door and looked inside. It was perfectly true. The room was empty. Henry moved from his position against the wall and came up behind him. “While there’s nobody here, then,” said he, “I’ll show you where he keeps his things. Maddock used to have this study and I was Maddock’s fag. The teapot’s in that cupboard there. This is where he puts anything he’s got to eat, and I expect his footer kit’s in that box.” The door was suddenly kicked sideways and a heavy step sounded behind him. “Now then,” said Coles. “What are you doing in my study? What do you mean by crawling in here? Are you looking for something to pinch?” Henry turned and glared at him with concentrated fury. Coles took him by the collar. “You get out,” said he. Then he lifted a leg and planted a boot so severely behind Henry that he shot foolishly forward and cannoned into the door. He turned and seemed about to speak. Coles gave him no opportunity at all. He lifted his foot again, and this time the force of its drive sent Henry clean out of the room with one bounce and dropped him against the wall on the far side of the corridor. Coles was one of the best dropkicks in the school. Then he slammed the door and turned upon Carr. And the thing that troubled Henry most was not the pain or the suddenness of those blows behind him, but the particularly stupid way in which he had made his exit from the stage.