“Carr,” said he, “I have something to say to you.” “Yes,” said Bobbie. “I’m leaving Morley’s.” He paused. “It’s the Head,” he explained. “For some reason or other he wants me in Seymour’s. There’s no help for it. I’ll have to go. It’s an order.” He gazed into the distance. Bobbie’s heart beat quickly with delight. To lose Coles would be an unprecedented joy. It was a stroke of luck upon which he had never reckoned. He turned to Coles with shining eyes and seemed about to thank him cordially for going. Coles looked down upon him with calculated craft. “Don’t be under any misapprehension,” said he. “I have explained to the Head exactly how things are—and you—are going too.” Bobbie gaped. “What? _Explained to him?_ What have you explained?” “That I know your family, and that you are rather specially entrusted to my care. I have told him how anxious I am to have you under my wing, and so—he has at last consented to you coming too.” After a minute’s utter silence he spoke again. “You don’t seem overjoyed?” Still Bobbie did not answer. He was wondering how he would get on without Henry Hope at his side, and what Henry would say about him going without a word of protest. “Anyway,” said the persecutor, “don’t forget our bargain. If there should be any talk of you staying behind, if they should ask you, you’ll know what to say, won’t you?” He waited a moment, looking at Bobbie straightly. “Won’t you?” “Yes,” said Bobbie at last. “I suppose so.” * * * * * It was evening. Over a study table Terence and Rouse faced one another. Rouse had his chin resting in one hand, and his expression was that of a young man wrestling with a mighty problem. “You see,” said he, “Seymour’s have challenged us to a friendly.” “Who really issued the challenge?” “That,” admitted Rouse, “I don’t quite know. It appears to have originated from Mr Seymour himself, and to have been received by Mr Morley—probably in a parchment envelope handed up on a silver salver.” “Never mind,” said Terence. “Let’s play them.” “Oh yes, we’ll play them. Only I’m trying to reason out what’s in the wind. You see, Roe is in Seymour’s.” “True. I’d forgotten that.” “And the chances are that if he wants to captain the side the other fellows in Seymour’s will have something to say about it.” “I suppose they want to play us because we’re the strongest house and they rather fancy their weight.” “One would imagine that was the idea. Only neither Betteridge nor Saville seems to know much about it.” Rouse suddenly leaned forward. “Nick,” said he, “there’s villainy afoot.” “Villainy?” “Yes. I don’t know what that means. It’s a phrase of Henry’s concoction. We might get hold of a cheap dictionary and get an interpretation of the words.... Anyway, that’s what he says—and it’s impossible to listen to Henry for long without coming to the conclusion that there’s something in what he says.” “What is the villainy?”