Probably not a soul knew that Salome was looking down from the window of Fillet’s study and watching the effect of my arrival.  As soon as the theatre of hostilities had changed from the baths to Bramhall House, he, too, had crossed the road and entered unobserved by Fillet’s private doorway.  He knew well enough that of all the outposts in his schools’ system of discipline Bramhall was the weakest held.  The house was under the sway of an ineffective master with a stinging tongue; and trouble would have stirred long ago had it not been for the heavy hand of the junior house-master, Radley, whom Salome’s predecessor had placed there to strengthen the position.  And insubordination had been not uncommon since the accession of the too genial White to the captaincy.

In justice to White I must say that, if he had been present this evening, he would have done his best to quell the disturbance.  But the decision of the judges had no sooner reached him than he had disappeared from the sight of men.  As a matter of fact his great heart was breaking in the privacy of the science buildings.  The only other house-prefects were, strangely enough, the redoubtable Cully and Johnson, who had sought consolation by retiring together to a cafe in the town.  So, when Salome arrived at Fillet’s study, there were no prefects available to disband the rebels.  What was he to do?  It would be quite inexpedient for a master to venture himself into the field of fire.  If he suffered indignity, severe punishment would be necessary, and that might provoke further defiance.  Then again, an alien prefect from another house would have little hope of success on Bramhall territory.  Truly Salome was out in a storm.

Hardly had they placed me on the steps, very surprised and gratified, before Pennybet roared out: 

“Was it true that you cheated, as Fillet tried to make out?”

“No!” I cried.

If I had been a nobler youth, I should have assumed that Fillet acted conscientiously from a mistake.  But I believed, and wanted to believe, that his had been a piece of deliberate revenge; that, recalling my imitation of his affliction, he had determined to rob me of my triumph.  So, being a vindictive young animal, I declared to the mob what I conceived to be the truth.  And all of them agreed, while many began to hoot.

“Now, I’ve been sent by some boys at the back,” said Penny, “to tell you that what you’ve got to do is to go up to Fillet’s room and tender him a mock-apology for losing the Cup for his house.  We’re to cheer ironically and hoot down here, and make a hell of a noise.  Then if he says ‘Are those young devils cheering you or hooting me?’ you’re to say ‘They’re doing both, sir.’  It’s a good scheme, whoever invented it, because he can’t touch you for civilly apologising and then for telling the truth when you are asked a question.”

The idea fired me.  Aye, it would be good to attack in a last charge and beat old Fillet, while I had all his house in fighting array behind me.  It would be good that he, who had rejected my serious apology, should be obliged to hear my contemptuous one, backed by the tumult and hooting of half the school.  Never had I thought that my decisive victory, for which I had waited years, would assume these splendid proportions.