“Yes, but a clever criminal goes directly back to commit his crimes in the same place. After a little time he is nowhere so safe. Most fools think lightning never strikes in the same place twice. I have suspected them for some time, but I have not before been sure that they were missing. I am sorry to ask you to make a journey over to the Woods at this time of night, but I cannot well leave the House. You will probably find them, I think; in which case you will direct them to report to me at once. I will wait up until your return.” Poor Sandy began to pull on his clothes. He did not like the job, not merely because it was cold and dark, but because he would have preferred to have received the information from another master. He was not adverse to catching Chapin and Marsh, if he was to catch them, but he felt a little sorry for himself as well as them that it all had to come on such a night. He routed out Larry Cummings to go with them, and they started on the dismal journey. After all, duty was duty, they reflected; and if that gang could be broken up it would be a good thing for the school. It was nearly midnight when Sandy, Larry and their victims—Chapin, Thorndyke and Marsh—returned to Mr. Roylston’s study. The master received them with a quiet satisfaction. It was a good, and thought Sandy a little unkindly, an easy night’s work for him. “You will all retire at once,” he said in grave judicial tones, “and in the morning you will accompany me to the Rectory.” It was a clear case for the Head Master on the morrow, though he singularly failed to congratulate Mr. Roylston on the success of his detective work. He suspended judgment until he could talk with Mr. Morris about Reggie Carroll’s connection with the affair. Morris, when the Head had sent for him, was convinced that Carroll deserved the leniency; that there were chances for him in the school of making good that did not exist for Chapin, that were doubtful for Thorndyke and Marsh. Carroll certainly had improved, markedly improved, since his confession. He had broken, Morris felt, with his old crowd. “Besides,” he added, “as for Chapin there is an old score against him that should perhaps weigh with you in your decision, Doctor Forester.” “Yes?—what is that?” Morris told the story of the Boxford game of the year before. “Ah, I see,” said Doctor Forester, and he did see with an admirable lucidity. “And Deering held his tongue about that too?” “About that too,” answered Morris. “Unusual boy!” “A very fine boy, sir.” “Yes, a fine boy. Well, I think that settles it. After Chapin is gone I shall tell the prefects the whole story, and I think perhaps it will be well that the school should know it too, at least through them. We can trust them to do justice to the football episode, anyway.”