“Yes,” said Rouse thoughtfully. “Yes. I suppose that would be it.”
For a moment or two he stood like a man awaking from a trance. His eyes passed slowly and unseeingly round well-known objects about the study, and came to rest at last upon Toby’s thoughtful countenance.
“Did you want to see me, sir?”
“What I came in about will wait,” said Toby. “But now that I’m here I should just like to say this. If you do anything fat-headed—anything on the lines of that letter—it will be strictly against my wishes, and absolutely against the best interests of the school. If you lose your nerve now you may undo all the good that your example has done for the school throughout this term. I am going to-morrow, and when I leave here I want to be sure that you will carry on the good work you have been doing all the way through the term. I want you to promise me not to give in just because—it hurts. It’s not for your sake, it’s for the good of Harley.”
“Yes, that’s all right, sir,” said Rouse, in a peculiarly small voice. “I quite understand. You can trust me to see that the chaps hang on to the end ... now. I wasn’t thinking of that so much. Only if you don’t want me particularly I’d like you to excuse me a moment?” He paused. “I should like,” he added, “to go along and find Coles.”
The brothers Nicholson looked first at him and then at one another. Clearly the same thoughts had entered either mind.
It was Terence who spoke.
“There’s only one thing,” said he. “I ought to just mention it. You haven’t forgotten that Coles is something of a boxer? You remember he won the heavyweights last year?”
Rouse nodded his head.
“I know.”