"Let’s go and find him," said Bob. "Poor old Bunting will be sick to see me. I’m very sorry for him if he is a presumptuous beast. It will be very awkward for the family. But we must know. The uncertainty is killing my grandmother, and Baker says it’s always best to know the worst at once. Baker’s the best judge of dogs and horses I know. He was a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers. Oh, I told you that!" And when they got into the High Street, they ran right into Plant, who smiled a sickly smile and said he had come up to have a look at Oxford. "I say, Mr. Plant, what’s the matter with your clothes?" asked Bob. "Have you fallen downstairs?" Plant murmured something unintelligible and hurried away, leaving Bob staring. "That’s one of ’em, Harcourt," he said to his friend. "He’s a millionaire." "Then I think he might afford a hat without a dint in it," replied Harcourt. Bob shook his head. "I can’t make it out. He’s very particular," he said. "But let’s get on." Around the next corner they bumped into Gordon, who also announced that he had been struck with a wild desire to have a look at the ancient university city. Bob shook his head. "I say, Mr. Gordon, you want brushing badly. Do you know you look as if you had fallen downstairs?" he asked. Gordon said, "Do I?" and bolted. "I can’t make this out," said Bob. "This has all the appearance of a mystery, Harcourt." "It has," said Harcourt. As they entered All Saints, they saw a man run across the grass and disappear under the far archway which led out into the Turl. "That looked very much like De Vere," said Bob, "very much. Only I never saw him run except that time when the bulldog chased him. And then he ran differently. But of course it can’t be De Vere." After asking two reverend-looking members of the university, who looked as if they knew all about the subjective world, and a scout with every appearance of a deep acquaintance with the objective one, they discovered Mr. Bunting’s rooms. "I think he’s havin’ some gents to lunch, though I’m not his scout, sir, and they seems to be enjoying themselves now very much," said the scout. "Mr. Bunting is readin’ ’ard, so I ’ear, but he’s relaxin’ a little to-day. Just now I see a gentleman drop hout of ’is window, sir. And you’re the third lot I’ve directed there. This is ’is staircase, gents, first floor. Thank you, sir, I’m sure. I’ll drink your ’ealth." And here Harcourt said he thought he’d leave Bob. So Bob went up about six dark steps by himself, and then he stopped. "Whoever he is, he’s making a devil of a row," said Bob, pausing, "a devil of a row. I wonder if it is Bunting. I think Harcourt might have stayed. But he never did like fighting or rows." He climbed up another step or two, and heard a mighty uproar. "I think they must be having a boxing party," said Bob. And then he heard a door open on the landing above him.