the Chapel bell was ringing, hushed and dimmed by the heavy
air. Boots rang sharply along the stone corridors. Olva crossed the
court towards his room.

Suddenly, from the very heart of the mist, sharply, above the sound of
the Chapel bell, a voice called--

"Carfax! Carfax!"

Olva stayed: for an instant the blood ran from his body, his knees
quivered, his face was as white as the mist. Then he braced himself--he
knew the voice.

"Hullo, Craven, is that you?"

"Who's that? . . . Can't see in this mist."

"Dune."

"Hullo, Dune. I say, do you know what's happened to Carfax?"

"Happened? No--why?"

"Well, I can't find him anywhere. I wanted to get him for Bridge. He
ought to be back by now."

"Back? Where's he been?"

"Going over to see some aunt or other at Grantchester--ought to be back
by now."

An aunt?--No, Rose Midgett.

"No--I've no idea--haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Been out for a walk?"

"Yes, just took my dog for a bit."

"See you in Hall?"

"Right--o!"

The voice began again calling under the windows--"Carfax! Carfax!"

Olva climbed the stairs to his rooms.

CHAPTER II

BUNNING

1

He went into Hall. He sat amongst the particular group of his own year
who were considered the _elite_. There was Cardillac there, brilliant,
flashing Cardillac. There was Bobby Galleon, fat, good-natured, sleepy,
intelligent in an odd bovine way. There was Craven, young, ardent,
hail-fellow-well-met. There was Lawrence, burly back for the University
in Rugby, unintelligent, kind and good-tempered unless he were drunk.

There were others. They all sat in their glory, noisily happy. Somewhere
in the distance on a raised dais were the Dons gravely pompous. Every
now and again word was brought that the gentlemen were making too much
noise. The Master might be observed drinking elaborately, ceremoniously
with some guest. Madden, the Service Tutor, flung his shrill treble
voice above the general hubbub--

"But, my dear Ross, if you had only observed---"

"Where is Carfax?" came suddenly from Lawrence. He asked Craven, who
was, of course, the devoted friend of Carfax. Craven had large brown
eyes, a charming smile, a prominent chin, rather fat routed cheeks and
short brown hair that curled a little. He gave the impression of eager
good-temper and friendliness. To-night he looked worried. "I don't
know," he said, "I can't understand it. He said this morning that he'd
be here to-night and make