The embers of Flashman’s wrath, however, were still smouldering, and burst out every now and then in sly blows and taunts, and they both felt that they hadn’t quite done with him yet.  It wasn’t long, however, before the last act of that drama came, and with it the end of bullying for Tom and East at Rugby.  They now often stole out into the hall at nights, incited thereto partly by the hope of finding Diggs there and having a talk with him, partly by the excitement of doing something which was against rules; for, sad to say, both of our youngsters, since their loss of character for steadiness in their form, had got into the habit of doing things which were forbidden, as a matter of adventure,—­just in the same way, I should fancy, as men fall into smuggling, and for the same sort of reasons—­thoughtlessness in the first place.  It never occurred to them to consider why such and such rules were laid down:  the reason was nothing to them, and they only looked upon rules as a sort of challenge from the rule-makers, which it would be rather bad pluck in them not to accept; and then again, in the lower parts of the school they hadn’t enough to do.  The work of the form they could manage to get through pretty easily, keeping a good enough place to get their regular yearly remove; and not having much ambition beyond this, their whole superfluous steam was available for games and scrapes.  Now, one rule of the house which it was a daily pleasure of all such boys to break was that after supper all fags, except the three on duty in the passages, should remain in their own studies until nine o’clock; and if caught about the passages or hall, or in one another’s studies, they were liable to punishments or caning.  The rule was stricter than its observance; for most of the sixth spent their evenings in the fifth-form room, where the library was, and the lessons were learnt in common.  Every now and then, however, a prepostor would be seized with a fit of district visiting, and would make a tour of the passages and hall and the fags’ studies.  Then, if the owner were entertaining a friend or two, the first kick at the door and ominous “Open here” had the effect of the shadow of a hawk over a chicken-yard:  every one cut to cover—­one small boy diving under the sofa, another under the table, while the owner would hastily pull down a book or two and open them, and cry out in a meek voice, “Hullo, who’s there?” casting an anxious eye round to see that no protruding leg or elbow could betray the hidden boys.  “Open, sir, directly; it’s Snooks.”  “Oh, I’m very sorry; I didn’t know it was you, Snooks.”  And then with well-feigned zeal the door would be opened, young hopeful praying that that beast Snooks mightn’t have heard the scuffle caused by his coming.  If a study was empty, Snooks proceeded to draw the passages and hall to find the truants.