“Let’s go out for a stroll,” said Rouse. “No one will go to bed yet awhile, and that horde of savages will be coming back after me in a minute. We will escape into the night.” They moved out of the study and down the corridor slowly and in silence. There was still an uncanny quiet about the house. Their footsteps echoed from end to end of the passage. “Seems queer, doesn’t it?” said Terence. “Like being at school in holiday time.” But on the floor below they heard voices. They were not distinct but they were undoubtedly excited. It seemed that three or four people must be debating some dark point behind the closed door of a study. Then turning a corner they came unexpectedly upon the figure of Bobbie Carr, his back against the wall, his thoughts evidently far away. His eyes were fixed absent-mindedly on the study door, and at first he did not hear footsteps. Looking up suddenly and noticing who came, he shot into an attitude of alertness and watched them uncertainly. They stopped and smiled at him. “Were you responsible for any of that hullabaloo outside?” demanded Rouse. “Was that you calling out my name about ten minutes ago?” “I did cheer a bit,” admitted Bobbie. “Everyone’s looking for you. They want to chair you round the school. They’re thinking of burning an effigy of the Head too. Only they can’t find anything suitable to burn.” Terence slowly nodded his head. Next moment he had turned sharply. The sound of those high-pitched voices had broken out anew. There was no doubt now whence they came. They came from Coles’ study, and one of the most prominent amongst them was the voice of Coles. He was addressing his friends as “Gentlemen!” with a peculiar frequency; also his voice had a froggy croak. Rouse turned his head and looked queerly at the door, glanced once at Terence and finally bent a questioning eye on Bobbie. “Are you ... waiting for Coles?” Bobbie looked at them, in turn, in evident distress, and made no answer. So they waited a moment, looked once again towards the door, and then proceeded thoughtfully upon their way. Outside Morley’s they turned behind the house and strolled slowly under the trees. Here was a point of vantage from which they could dimly see the school; the still turbulent ranks of rebels arm-in-arm were goose-stepping proudly up and down before the Head’s room, waiting as if for news that Rouse had been unearthed, and all at once Terence found himself distracted by an unexpected turn of events. It was the sound of cautious footsteps on the gravel, and when he saw who was passing he laid a hand upon Rouse’s arm and silently drew him round. Then, with a finger upon his lips, he pointed with the other hand towards the wall of Morley’s. It was none other than Henry Hope, and he was making his way laboriously alongside the wall. Now and again he looked up at the windows and paused as if guided by the increasing sounds of revelry that came from the only occupied study in all the building.