“Go to them,” said Toby. “They’ve had their night out and when they’ve had you a bit p’r’aps they’ll go to bed without smashing anything. And if I were you I should tell them what you’re going to do. Let them into the secret. They’ll feel more satisfied then.” He gave Rouse a final pat on the back, then slipped away.
For a brief space Rouse stood stock-still. Then through a break in the dark veil of the skies the moon flashed her bull’s-eye upon him and he stood revealed—just as Terence had discovered him making his exit from the cupboard.
There came a loud, delighted bellow from the nearest group and it was too late for escape. Rouse darted frantically to a flank, but he was held by a high wall and he turned and waited for them helplessly. From every possible direction his beloved followers bore down. They closed in and would not be denied. There came a scuffle in the dark, then he was lifted up and at last he could be seen in his rightful place, perched upon the shoulders of those nearest to him and clutching a tuft of hair in each hand for support.
A stately concourse formed up on either side and slowly surged forward, taking new shape as they ranged themselves formally outside the stained-glass windows and broke into song.
They had hoped that the Head would presently appear. No sound that he could even hear their chanting of allegiance was forthcoming.
Finally it occurred to them that he might not be there and the next best thing was clearly a grand procession round the school.
The bearers turned unsteadily about and moved away.
As they went, to the crashing music of the Harley song, watching them go stood Terence, still where Rouse had left him, with a smile of satisfaction about his lips.
There also watched the new Headmaster, who, unknown to any, had been peering crossly at them with one straining eye through a chink in the heavy curtains.