"One South, Darrell," he heard. "How are you, boy? Glad you've come. Hop up the stairs there and you'll find One South dormitory. Your name's on one of the beds. Put your bag down on it, and then go to hall. You'll get tea there. Chapel'll be in ten minutes."
How did he know that this was Darrell? Clive found himself wondering that. And what about Susanne?
"Feofé," he heard, as he ascended. And then less distinctly, "One South," with the same instructions.
"I'm glad," he thought. "Susanne'll be with me. Wonder about that howling cad Rawlings. What a downfall! He'll not meddle with Susanne whatever happens. But he'll have his pound of flesh from me if the chance comes. Wish Harvey was to be in One South also."
He clambered up the steps and turned into a dormitory but dimly illuminated. But it was big and clean and airy, and bore an appearance of comfort, some thirty beds being covered with cosy-looking red coverlets.
Clive found his bed, deposited his bag, and then enquired his way to hall. Thick slices of bread and butter—known colloquially as "toke"—appeased a ravenous appetite. He had not even time to admire the huge proportions of the Hall, the many long tables, the names of boys long since departed who had won honours at the school, and the few pictures and portraits. A clanging bell summoned him he knew not where. He found himself processing with a number of others. Through that gallery they passed, with Middle and Second Forms on either side; then sharp to the left down a paved corridor, to a wide, arched entrance. They were in the chapel. Clive passed through the handsome raised seats of the choir, down the central aisle, and drifted aimlessly to one side.
"Here," someone whispered. "One South?"
"Yes."
"Then this'll do. Squat here."
The fellow made room for him. Clive squatted and listened. The organ was filling the whole beautiful chapel with the sweetest sound. Boys had ceased entering. He raised his eyes to the entrance through which he had come, just to be seen above the choir. "Be sure your sin will find you out," he read above the doorway. The bell ceased ringing, the notes of the organ were hushed, a low "Amen" came from the vestry. And then the choir processed to their seats. Harvey was amongst them, and Trendall, his fat cheeks shaking. There was a string of masters, of all ages almost, all appearances and all sizes, looking somewhat out of their element. And last of all came the Head. Not so very tall, not big, not imposing, there was yet something about him which called for another look. But the organ was pealing again, filling this magnificent building, with its high arched roof, to the depths of every crevice.