"Ah, Fenn," said the headmaster. "Come in."
Fenn wondered. It was not in this tone of voice that the Head was wont to begin a conversation which was going to prove painful.
"You've got your cap, Fenn? I gave it to a small boy in your house to take to you."
"Yes, sir."
He had given up all hope of understanding the Head's line of action. Unless he was playing a deep game, and intended to flash out suddenly with a keen question which it would be impossible to parry, there seemed nothing to account for the strange absence of anything unusual in his manner. He referred to the cap as if he had borrowed it from Fenn, and had returned it by bearer, hoping that its loss had not inconvenienced him at all.
"I daresay," continued the Head, "that you are wondering how it came into my possession. You missed it, of course?"
"Very much, sir," said Fenn, with perfect truth.
"It has just been brought to my house, together with a great many other things, more valuable, perhaps,"—here he smiled a head-magisterial smile—"by a policeman from Eckleton."
Fenn was still unequal to the intellectual pressure of the conversation. He could understand, in a vague way, that for some unexplained reason things were going well for him, but beyond that his mind was in a whirl.
"You will remember the unfortunate burglary of Mr Kay's house and mine. Your cap was returned with the rest of the stolen property."