“Well, let your theory be what it will, Mr. ffoulis, but I would suggest, and most earnestly, that you refrain, so far as you find it possible, from attacking the present Government--if you don’t mind an old man’s advice.” Gav clapped him on the back. “Of course not,” he said with a reassuring smile. “That can soon be arranged, and your resignation shall be announced for reasons of health.” The Warden nodded assent. “I must go now,” said Gaveston. “I am a busy man.” * * * * * The rifest of rumours ran through Oxford that afternoon when the bruit was abroad that the Editor of _The Mongoose_ had interviewed the Vice-Chancellor. The great political clubs were abuzz with conflicting accounts of what had taken place. Even in the deserted halls of the Liberal Club the solitary waiter paced to and fro murmuring rumours to himself. A monster demonstration of local Jacobites with a white flag was held outside the county gaol, where it was believed that Gaveston had that morning been secretly immured. But all dubieties were laid low when, according to antique custom, the tolling bell of the Radcliffe Camera announced that the Vice-Chancellor had resigned office. The stupefied silence in the city was broken only by the sombre reverberations of that passing bell. A hurriedly convoked meeting of the Hebdomadal Council issued formal notice before nightfall that the Warden of Rutland had resigned for reasons of ill-health. And profound was the impression when it was announced a little later that the vacant post would be filled by Archibald Arundel, M.A., Dean of Wallace College. “We have won, David,” said Gav calmly when the news reached him in his quiet inner sitting-room. But David could make no reply. His eyes glistened in the twilight as he looked out over the darkling quadrangle.… * * * * * _The Mongoose_ had won the bitter battle for free speech and generous ideals, and pæans of well-merited praise welled up for Gaveston from every corner of the kingdom. The Press was united in felicitation of its promising contemporary, save only the _Rutlandshire Argus_, whose petty regionalism no wider idealism could mitigate, and _Punch_, whose tradition it always is to support the under-dog in public affairs. But very few were moved by its cartoon that week, which showed the ex-Vice-Chancellor seated in a cavern on the banks of a river whose ripples formed the word _ISIS_, his venerable head bowed over a table on which lay the University mace and a doffed crown of office. Before him stood, not Gaveston, but a female figure whose classic draperies bore the device _COMMON SENSE_ and who held before the old man’s dreaming eyes a great scroll. On it was inscribed the legend: RESURGES: NON CANOSSA SED BARBAROSSA. But even to a defeated rival a ffoulis keeps troth: the agenda of _The Mongoose_ were honourably modified.