Ever since he had gathered from Stephen Mr Cripps's wrath on receiving the returned rod, he had been haunted by a dread lest the landlord of the Cockchafer should march up to Saint Dominic's, and possibly make an exposure of the unhappy business before the Doctor and the whole school. He therefore, after long hesitation and misgiving, determined himself to call at the Cockchafer, and try in some way to settle matters. One thing reassured him. If Cripps had discovered the crack or the fracture in the rod, he would have heard of it long before now; and if he had not, then the longer the time the less chance was there of the damage being laid at his door. So he let three weeks elapse, and then went to Maltby. The Cockchafer was a small, unpretentious tavern, frequented chiefly by carriers and tradesmen, and, I regret to say, not wholly unknown to some of the boys of Saint Dominic's, who were foolish enough to persuade themselves that skittles, and billiards, and beer were luxuries worth the risk incurred by breaking one of the rules of the school. No boy was permitted to enter any place of refreshment except a confectioner's in Maltby under the penalty of a severe punishment, which might, in a bad case, mean expulsion. Loman, therefore, a monitor and a Sixth Form boy, had to take more than ordinary precautions to reach the Cockchafer unobserved, which he succeeded in doing, and to his satisfaction--as well as to his trepidation--found Mr Cripps the younger at home. "Ho, he! my young shaver," was that worthy's greeting, "here you are at last." This was not encouraging to begin with. It sounded very much as if Mr Cripps had been looking forward to this visit. However, Loman put as bold a face as he could on to it, and replied, "Hullo, Cripps, how are you? It's a long time since I saw you; jolly day, isn't it?" "Jolly!" replied Mr Cripps, looking very gloomy, and drawing a glass of beer for the young gentleman before he ordered it. Loman did not like it at all. There was something about Cripps's manner that made him feel very uncomfortable. "Oh, Cripps," he presently began, in as off-hand a manner as he could assume under the depressing circumstances--"Oh, Cripps, about that rod, by the way. I hope you didn't mind my sending it back. The fact is," (and here followed a lie which till that moment had not been in the speaker's mind to tell)--"the fact is, I find I'm to get a present of a rod this summer at home, or else of course I would have kept it." Mr Cripps said nothing, but began polishing up a pewter pot with a napkin. "I hope you got it back all right," continued Loman, who felt as if he must say something. "They are such fragile things, you know. I thought I'd just leave it in the bag and not touch it, but send it straight back, for fear it should be damaged." There was a queer smile about Mr Cripps's mouth as he asked, "Then you didn't have a look at it even?"