Henry’s brain was alert. “People noticed you weren’t there, I think. And it seems he wanted everyone. So he wants you.” Coles suddenly advanced upon him. “Get out!” he bellowed. “Get out, you frightful garden slug!” Henry turned and made for the door. He did not really care at the moment whether there was any answer to the message or not. All he wanted was to get out without running. He strove with all his might to do it. He felt the hot breath of the ogre behind him. Every nerve was urging him to jump. He would not. He saw the knob of the door with wide protuberant eyes, his head craned forward, his hand outstretched to grasp it. He was almost through ... then it was too late. He heard the swish of its coming, half turned, his hand flew to save him. It was hardly swift enough. The great boot thudded against its target and he shot forward in a stupid bunch and out into the passage. With the frenzy of utter despair he straightened himself in the very nick of time and assumed his natural gait. The pain didn’t matter. It was nothing. His only aim was to save his dignity, and by the skin of his teeth he did it. The door slammed to behind him, and he never so much as jumped. He moved up the passage and peered at Bobbie over the tops of his spectacles. “I’ve told him.” There was just a suspicion of a sob in his voice. Bobbie made no comment. He looked at Henry Hope admiringly. And at last he said: “Oh, _WELL DONE_.” “I won’t stay,” said Henry. “You follow on. I expect they’ll be out in a minute. I—I won’t stay.” With scarcely a pause he went stiffly on his way. Bobbie looked after him. And though he may or may not have guessed, he never at all events knew how shockingly it had hurt. He stood for a while, waiting uncertainly, and at last the door opened again and Coles and his friends came out. They were talking quietly to one another, and Coles turned to him as they passed. “Here, you can cut. But jolly well be back here as soon as this show’s over. D’you understand that?” Bobbie nodded excitedly and darted away. Henry had kept his word. He’d be there to cheer Rouse after all. Thus, then, the last who were in Morley’s passed out to join the silent watchers who stretched in a vast half-circle before the stained-glass windows that hid the deputation and the Head, and the house grew strangely still. There was no creak upon the stairs, no voice in any room. Every boy had gone. Yet not quite all.