The church bells came as a relief, richer in tone, poorer in association, with townspeople on the pavement and not a sound in the house. Jan fell to and packed. All his wardrobe had been brought in now; his study possessions would be sent after him; so Mr. Heriot had looked in to say, and at the same time to extract an explicit pledge that Jan would not again set foot on the boys’ side of the house. He wondered if the bath had been judged a step in that direction, and what it was feared that he might do when all their backs were turned. But he gave his word without complaining; never, to be sure, had condemned man less cause for complaint. His dietary was on the traditional scale; excellent meals were brought to the spare room. There was the usual sound fare for dinner, including the inevitable cold apple-pie with cloves in it, and a long glass of beer because Jan’s exalted place in the house entitled him (in those unregenerate days) to two ordinary glasses. Morgan, at any rate, could not know what he was there for! Jan was wondering whether it was enough to make him sleepy after his wretched night, and so kill an hour of this more wretched day, when the door burst open, without preliminary knock, and Carpenter stood wheezing on the other side of the bed. His high shoulders heaved. His rather unhealthy face looked grotesquely intense and agonised. It was plain at a glance that Old Chips knew something. “Oh, Jan!” he cried. “What did you do it for?” “That’s my business. Who sent you here?” “I got leave from Heriot.” “Very good of you, I’m sure!” “That wasn’t why I came,” said Chips, braced though stung by this reception. He had shut the door behind him. He walked round the bed with the extremely determined air of one in whom determination was not a habit. “Well, why did you come?” inquired Jan, though he was beginning to guess. “You did a thing I couldn’t have believed you’d do!” “Many things, it seems.” “I’m only thinking of one. The others don’t concern me. You went into my locker and—and broke into the house money-box!” “I left you something worth five times as much, and I owned what I’d done in black and white.” “I know that. Here’s your watch and your I.O.U. I found them after chapel this morning.” Jan took his treasure eagerly, laid it on the dressing-table, and produced his packet of coins from one of the small side drawers. “And here’s your money,” said he. “You’d better count it; you won’t find a sixpence missing.” Chips stared at him with round eyes. “But what on earth did you borrow it for?” “That’s my business,” said Jan, in the same tone as before, though Chips had changed his. “I don’t know how you knew I had all this money. It isn’t usual late in the term like this, when all the subs. have been banked long ago.” Jan showed no disposition to explain the deed. “This is my business, you know,” persisted Chips. “Oh! is it? Then I don’t mind telling you I heard you filling your precious coffers after dinner.”