“It’s nothing.” He moved on. It seemed impossible that the woods should stay just as they were, unmoved by this great event, hanging like old coloured tapestry with their thin dead leaves between the black poles of trees. Unmoved! No one knew. No one but himself.
The great moment came. When in chapel, looking across to the other side, he saw that their places were empty. Nothing much in that for the ordinary world—fellows were often late for chapel—but for him it meant everything. The deed was positively accomplished. They must be actually at this moment in the train, and he was the only creature in the whole school who knew where they were.
Call-over followed chapel. He heard the names called. “Stokesley!” and then, more impatiently, after a little pause, “Stokesley!” again. Then “Raikes!” and, after a moment, “Raikes!” again. Nothing, after that, happened for an hour. Then call-over once more at supper. Raikes and Stokesley again called and again absent.
Five minutes after supper the school sergeant came for him.
“Mr. Thompson to see you in his study at once!”
Jeremy went.
Thompson was walking about, and very worried he looked. He had been talking to the matron, and wheeled round when Jeremy came in.
“Ah, Cole. . . . Leave us for a moment, matron, please.”
They were alone. Jeremy felt terribly small, shrivelled to nothing at all. He shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but at Thompson’s anxious eyes. He liked Thompson, and was aware, with a sudden flash, that this was more than a mere game—that it might be desperately serious for someone.
“Come here, Cole. I want you to keep this to yourself. Not to say a word to anyone, do you understand?”