Mr. Flaggon guessed what must be passing in his colleague’s mind, and his manner was both sympathetic and cordial. He thanked Mr. Chase warmly for having taken him at once into his confidence; and, together, the two men discussed what ought to be done. Should the father be invited to come to Chiltern and procure further and yet more detailed information, or should they act at once? Mr. Flaggon thought that there was danger in delay. The boy might become frightened and retract, or, possibly, give a hint of what was brewing to a friend. “Our best chance,” he said, “of getting at the whole truth is to strike at once while the offenders are off their guard; and, if the facts are as they have been stated, we have enough to go upon. Besides, if the father comes down and sees his son, everybody will guess the source of our information; and we are bound in honour to keep the boy’s secret.” Mr. Chase agreed; and, accordingly, that evening after locking up, the headmaster went to Mr. Chase’s house and held a searching inquiry. Before it was over, he knew a great many things that he had not known before, and realised how very vile, under its deceptive light-heartedness, life can be in a bad house in a bad school. Next morning, at first lesson, a rumour spread through a startled school that three of the most prominent Chaseites had been summarily expelled, and that others were to leave at the end of the Term: and Mr. Chase, who looked as though all joy had gone out of life, confirmed the news to his colleagues. Mr. Flaggon had determined to address the school that evening after chapel; but, before he could do so, fresh developments occurred which decided him to wait a little longer. For, in the course of the day, Dennison, the newly appointed Prefect, appeared in his study with a pale face and twitching hands, and asked if he might speak confidentially. The permission was readily granted, and Dennison proceeded to unburden his soul. Everybody, he said, had known for a long time that Chase’s house was “rotten,” but he was afraid his own house was not much better. Since he had been Prefect, he thought there had been an improvement; but, a week ago, he heard of something which had made him very miserable. He didn’t dare to tell Mr. Chowdler; and, though he had been within an ace, more than once, of asking the headmaster for advice, he had never quite made up his mind to do so. It was impossible to get the Prefects to act together, because a Prefect was himself involved, and the others wouldn’t give him away. He had spent sleepless nights worrying over the business; but now he felt that he must make a clean breast of the whole matter. He wanted to do his duty; but he funked--there was no other word for it--the deadly unpopularity which was certain to be the result.