On the morning of the fateful day, Mr. Flaggon looked down the long rows of bowed heads in chapel with peculiar feelings. He was something of a fatalist, believing, as he did, that there is special Providence in the fall of a sparrow, and that a man is false to his duty, however hazardous that duty may be, if he allows himself to dwell on the possibility of failure. But he could not help wondering, that morning, whether he would ever sit in his place again and feel that his life’s work lay there before him, and that he had the power to do it. In the last few weeks Chiltern had become to him something much more concrete than it had been before, something that stirred his affections and appealed to his sympathy. While searching in dark places for the roots of the parasite that was strangling the life of the place, he had discovered the germs of much that was healthy and even noble--individual heroisms, boys ready, at a moment’s call, to do a man’s work, knees which in the face of fierce temptation had never bowed to Baal; and, with all its capacity for evil, he had realised the immense possibilities for good in schoolboy nature. He was conscious, too, of a change of attitude on the part of the staff. Rather shyly, rather awkwardly, many, especially the younger men, had made it clear to him by voice and manner and gesture that they were with him. There was an irony in the fate which might give him the summons to quit at the very moment when he had secured a firm grip of the school and proved his right to rule. _Might_ give? Very probably _would_ give; for, in his heart of hearts, he had no great faith in the Council that was to pronounce judgment. And, a few hours later, the councillors were assembling at Grandborough to decide between the headmaster and his rebellious lieutenant. Most of them had come with their minds more than half made up. That Mr. Chowdler’s conduct had exceeded the courtesies of debate there could be no doubt; and, under ordinary circumstances, they would have been shy of interfering between a headmaster and one of his assistants. But the circumstances were not ordinary; and the men who were called upon to judge them were much influenced by the opinion, commonly expressed in Society (with a capital S), that the new headmaster was a failure and was letting the school down rapidly. They gathered, too, from Mr. Benison-Benison that this was also the opinion of the masters. And, again, they had been much alarmed by the recent troubles. Rumour had put the number of expulsions at 150; and, though the councillors were now in possession of the correct figures, the impression remained that Chiltern, which had once seemed to be founded on a rock, was crumbling away before their very eyes. “How do you intend to vote?” said Canon Braintree to Sir Arthur Tysoe, as they entered the assembly room at the “Blue Boar,” which always served as Council chamber.