Even now Fenn could not understand it. The more he thought it over, the more his brain reeled. He could grasp the fact that his cap and his cup were safe again, and that there was evidently going to be no sacking for the moment. But how it had all happened, and how the police had got hold of his cap, and why they had returned it with the loot gathered in by the burglar who had visited Kay's and the School House, were problems which, he had to confess, were beyond him. He walked to Kay's through the rain with the cup under his mackintosh, and freely admitted to himself that there were things in heaven and earth--and particularly earth--which no fellow could understand. "I don't know," he said, when Kennedy pressed for an explanation of the reappearance of the cup. "It's no good asking me. I'm going now to borrow the matron's smelling-salts: I feel faint. After that I shall wrap a wet towel round my head, and begin to think it out. Meanwhile, you're to go over to the Head. He's had enough of me, and he wants to have a look at you." "Me?" said Kennedy. "Why?" "Now, is it any good asking _me?_?" said Fenn. "If you can find out what it's all about, I'll thank you if you'll come and tell me." Ten minutes later Kennedy returned. He carried a watch and chain. "I couldn't think what had happened to my watch," he said. "I missed it on the day after that burglary here, but I never thought of thinking it had been collared by a professional. I thought I must have lost it somewhere." "Well, have you grasped what's been happening?" "I've grasped my ticker, which is good enough for me. Half a second. The old man wants to see the rest of the prefects. He's going to work through the house in batches, instead of man by man. I'll just go round the studies and rout them out, and then I'll come back and explain. It's perfectly simple." "Glad you think so," said Fenn. Kennedy went and returned. "Now," he said, subsiding into a deck-chair, "what is it you don't understand?" "I don't understand anything. Begin at the beginning." "I got the yarn from the butler--what's his name?" "Those who know him well enough to venture to give him a name--I've never dared to myself--call him Watson," said Fenn. "I got the yarn from Watson. He was as excited as anything about it. I never saw him like that before." "I noticed something queer about him." "He's awfully bucked, and is doing the Ancient Mariner business all over the place. Wants to tell the story to everyone he sees." "Well, suppose you follow his example. I want to hear about it." "Well, it seems that the police have been watching a house at the corner of the High Street for some time--what's up?" "Nothing. Go on." "But you said, 'By Jove!'" "Well, why shouldn't I say 'By Jove'? When you are telling sensational yarns, it's my duty to say something of the sort. Buck along." "It's a house not far from the Town Hall, at the corner of Pegwell Street--you've probably been there scores of times."