Thompson was walking about, and very worried he looked. He had been talking to the matron, and wheeled round when Jeremy came in. “Ah, Cole. . . . Leave us for a moment, matron, please.” They were alone. Jeremy felt terribly small, shrivelled to nothing at all. He shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but at Thompson’s anxious eyes. He liked Thompson, and was aware, with a sudden flash, that this was more than a mere game—that it might be desperately serious for someone. “Come here, Cole. I want you to keep this to yourself. Not to say a word to anyone, do you understand?” “Yes, sir.” “Good. It seems that Stokesley and Raikes have run away. They were neither at chapel nor at supper. Some of their things are missing. Now, you’re the only other boy in their dormitory. Do you know anything at all about this?” “No, sir.” “Nothing?” “No, sir.” “They said nothing at all to you about this going?” “No, sir.” “Gave you no idea that they were thinking of it?” “No, sir.” Thompson paused, looked out of the window, walked up and down the room a little, then said: “I make it a rule always to believe what any boy tells me. I’ve never found you untruthful, Cole. I don’t say that you’re not telling the truth now, but I know what your boys’ code is. You mustn’t sneak about another boy whatever happens. That’s a code that has something to be said for it. It happens to have nothing to be said for it just now. You’re young, and I don’t expect you realize what this means. It involves many people beside themselves—their fathers and mothers and everyone in this school. You may be doing a very serious thing that will affect many people’s lives if you don’t tell me what you know. Do you realize that?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, then, did they say nothing at all about going away?” “No, sir.” “Nothing at all to you?” “No, sir.” “Very well. You may go.” Jeremy went. Outside he found the school in a ferment. Everyone knew. Stokesley and Raikes had run away. He was surrounded by a mob. They pressed in upon him from every side—big boys, little boys, old boys, young boys—everyone. “Stocky! Where have they gone to? What did Thompson say to you? Did he whack you? Is he going to? Is it true that they’ve stolen a lot of the matron’s money? What did they tell you? . . . Oh, rot! Of course you know? Where have they gone to, Stocky? We’ll give you the most awful hiding if you don’t say. Come on, Stocky, out with it! When did they go? Just before chapel? Is Thompson awfully sick?” But Jeremy stood his ground. He knew nothing at all. Nothing at all. They had said nothing to him. III