“Yes,” said he. “It looks worse from here. Nevertheless that is how I got in. Those pieces of cloth you see there hanging on nails amongst the ivy are pieces of my trousers. In other words, you have been burgled.”
“But why on earth didn’t you ring the bell?”
Toby tapped him upon the shoulder.
“The boy who ran away is outside in a car. I thought you would rather we got him in without attracting attention.”
“But, goodness me,” said the other, “a number of boys in the house will know that he was out. What will be the excuse?”
“The other boys in the house,” said Toby, “know a great deal more about what’s been going on than you do. You can bet your life on that. And after this evening’s little entertainment there won’t be many who won’t understand the truth. My advice to you is to let him come in and go to bed without a word. You yourself need know nothing about it.”
Mr Seymour was looking at him dubiously.
“The reason I say this,” Toby explained, “is that it means a lot to the school if we can come through this term without the spirit having been knocked out of any single boy by the Head’s idea of justice. It won’t be quite so satisfactory if this youngster should be found out. It’s the last lap, too, Seymour. In another ten days term will be over.”
He paused.
“There will be another term following after,” said Mr Seymour gloomily.