“That’s enough,” said he. “It makes a lot of things clear to me. But it’s not all. I told you Coles had a hold over that kid Carr. Well, Carr’s going over to Seymour’s _with_ him—and he’s very nearly blubbing about it. That’s all.” Rouse had struck the table with his fist. The mystery of the challenge was at last transparent to him. “But ... Carr?” said Terence. “Why? Why Carr? Why’s _he_ going?” “Because,” said Henry, “Coles says that he was put in his care by Carr’s own people, and the Head believes him.” “Well, what’s _Coles_ going for himself? What’s the idea? Why is it?” Henry drew himself up. His eyes were blazing behind the round windows of his spectacles. He clenched his hands. “What’s he going for?” said he. “It’s as plain as a pikestaff. He’s going to join hands with the enemy. He knows that he hasn’t a chance here, in the very house where Rouse is loved most, and so he’s going. Coles has got something up his sleeve.” “Henry,” said Terence, “you may be right. I believe you are. But there’s one thing you don’t know.” “What?” said Henry, as if unable to believe the accusation. “This. If Coles is reckoning on playing upon the feelings of the chaps who want their Rugger, then Smythe has got something up _his_ sleeve that’ll knock Coles silly.” CHAPTER XIV THE FIRST ROUND Christopher Woolf Roe was in a painful predicament. Behind him, urging him on, he felt the hot breath of impending paternal wrath, and knew that if he failed in this, the most important duty his father had ever set him, he would be disgraced; as likely as not he would at no far distant date be cut off with the proverbial shilling. Already his father was growing impatient. The notion that he was having to await the school’s pleasure before securing their obedience was to him exceedingly displeasing. The exemplary patience he had displayed when first the helpfulness of Coles had come before his notice had not proved of an abiding nature. Moreover, the gradual attention of outsiders was being attracted to the school. The scratching of their fixtures for the season had been commented upon, and he felt that unless evidence of the successful nature of his handling of this situation were forthcoming very shortly his dignity would be seriously endangered. Of all this his unhappy son was fully aware, yet he could see before him only the adamant forbearance of a school unanimously resolute, and the keen dislike in which he was personally held was not at all encouraging. Altogether things were rotten. Coles, however, had certainly been exceptionally decent, and his charm of manner had weighed a good deal with the Head too. There was comfort to be gained from the certainty that Coles knew what was what. Coles was a very good fellow. He was very grateful to Coles. “Leave it to me,” Coles had said, and he had left it to Coles willingly.