The butler bowed his head gently, but with more than a touch of pained astonishment. He thought the Headmaster might show more respect for persons. A butler is not an errand-boy.
'Sir?' he said, giving the Head a last chance, as it were, of realising the situation.
'Ask Mr Merevale to step over here for a moment.'
The poor man bowed once more. The phantom of a half-smoked cigar floated reproachfully before his eyes. He had lit it a quarter of an hour ago in fond anticipation of a quiet evening. Unless a miracle had occurred, it must be out by this time. And he knew as well as anybody else that a relighted cigar is never at its best. But he went, and in a few minutes Mr Merevale entered the room.
'Sit down, Mr Merevale,' said the Head. 'Am I to understand from your note that Thomson is actually not in the House?'
Mr Merevale thought that if he had managed to understand anything else from the note he must possess a mind of no common order, but he did not say so.
'No,' he said. 'Thomson has not been in the House since lunchtime, as far as I know. It is a curious thing.'
'It is exceedingly serious. Exceedingly so. For many reasons. Have you any idea where he was seen last?'
'Harrison in my House says he saw him at about three o'clock.'
'Ah!'