“Look here. Don’t you do anything confoundedly idiotic. Leave the Head absolutely alone. We’re not going to let a man win a fight by hitting below the belt. Toby can look after himself. As he says, it’s nearly the end of term already. We’ll see it out. This rotten note is a lie from start to finish. There’s no such feeling in the school at all. Don’t you be guyed by a thing like this.”
“Well, who’s written it?” demanded Rouse. “Tell me that. The thing was left lying on this table. Somebody must have put it there.”
Terence took it up once more.
“Let’s have another look,” said he.
Next moment there came a gentle tap at the door, and the one who in all the school Rouse would have least wanted to see that note came in, and he sprang up quickly. It was Toby.
Rouse looked at Terence with quick meaning, but Terence ignored him.
“Here, Toby,” said he, “you’re just the chap we want. Have a look at this.”
Rouse sprang towards it.
“No. Give it to me. It’s mine. My mind’s made up. That doesn’t make any difference at all.”
“Yes, it does,” said Terence sharply. “It’s getting at you. You believe it’s true.”