It came as a perpetual surprise to Mr. Chowdler, whenever they had words, that Bent did not know how to behave like a gentleman or answer a civil question civilly. But this went beyond all bounds. So he drew himself up and replied with dignity: “I am not in the habit of answering flippant and offensive questions.” “In that case,” said Mr. Bent, suddenly losing his self-control, “I should advise you not to make offensive and impertinent remarks about matters which don’t concern you.” Which reply left Mr. Chowdler justly indignant, and confirmed him in the belief that Bent _had_ had something to do with the rejection of Cheeny. CHAPTER XII THE EXPLOSION Other people than Mr. Chowdler were dissatisfied with the state of affairs, though none expressed disapproval with quite such acrimony. For the first time for many years the numbers in the school were down. This was in part due to the deliberate action of the headmaster. Veterans in the lower forms of the school had been invited to “move on”; and the veterans were numerous. But there was another reason for the shrinkage and one on which Mr. Chowdler and his friends were more inclined to lay stress; namely, that several names had been withdrawn at the eleventh hour from the January entrance list. From the nature of its clientèle, Chiltern was affected, more than most schools, by the gossip of the London clubs; and, in the London clubs, opinion was not favourable to the new régime. The case of le Willow had created a most unfortunate impression. “_I’m_ not going to send my boy to a school where they sack for cribbing,” said one parent to another. “Cribbed myself when I was a boy, and so did all my pals.” “The new man’s no sportsman,” added a second, “and the boys simply can’t stick him.” “No more can the masters,” interjected a third. “I met one of them in Switzerland, and, from what _he_ said, I should say the place was simply going to pot as fast as it can.” In Mr. Chowdler’s eyes the place undoubtedly was “going to pot.” In season and out of season he called everybody’s attention to this lamentable truth, and the fact that he was unable to prevent it preyed upon his mind. It preyed to such an extent that a moment came when he committed an act which brought on the inevitable crisis. In the third week of Term the headmaster convened a special masters’ meeting to discuss certain matters which he considered urgent. Not only did he convene it for the particular time at which Mr. Chowdler was accustomed to play a round of golf, but the first item on the programme was the question of Sunday hours.