But he did, and in the event there was no call upon Evan’s nobility. Heriot knew that the two boys who came to him after dinner were always about together, and he was too much disturbed by what they told him to ask if they had been alone as usual. He took that for granted, in the communications which he lost no time in making both to the police and to the Head Master, who took it for granted in his turn when the pair came to his study in the School House. He was very stern with them, but not unkind. They had broken bounds, and richly deserved the flogging he would have given them if their terrible experience were not a punishment in itself; it was indeed a very severe one to Carpenter, who was by this time utterly unstrung; but Rutter, who certainly looked unmoved, was reminded that this was the second time he had escaped his deserts for a serious offence, and he was grimly warned against a third. If they wished to signify their appreciation of his clemency, the old man added, they would both hold their tongues about the whole affair. And the two boys entered into a compact to that effect between themselves, though not without considerable reluctance on the part of poor Chips, who felt that he was locking up the conversational capital of a school lifetime. Yet within a week the adventure was being talked about, and that despite the fact that the Chief Constable of the county, an old friend of Heriot’s, had prevailed upon the County Coroner to dispense with the actual evidence of either boy. Jan asked Chips if he had told anybody, only to meet with an indignant denial. “I’ve never said a word, my good Tiger!” “Well, I haven’t, that’s a sure thing.” “Then it must be Devereux.” “I thought you’d say that,” said Jan, but kept his ears open in form, and actually overheard Evan boasting of the adventure before Haigh came in. Moreover, as he was not questioned about it himself, Jan was forced to the conclusion that Evan was acting on the principle of one good turn deserving another, and leaving out every name but his own. “Well?” asked Chips when next they met. “Well, I’m afraid you’re right; and I don’t know what to think of it,” said poor Jan, hiding his feelings as best he could. “I won’t say what I think,” returned Chips. And he never did. CHAPTER XIV “SUMMER-TERM” “O Summer-Term, sweet to the Cricketer, whose very existence is bliss; O Summer-Term, sweet to the Editor, who needs write but two numbers of _this_——” “But he doesn’t write them,” objected Jan, “any more than the captain of a side makes all the runs.” “Oh! I know it should be 'edit,’ but that doesn’t scan,” explained Chips, and continued: “O Summer-Term, sweet to the sportsman, who makes a good book on the Oaks——” “Why the Oaks?” interrupted Jan again. “Why not the Derby, while you are about it?” Chips told him he would see, confound him!