It’s an argument I’ve heard before from the likes of Bob Strange. We live in a world in which vocational teaching matters far more than the pursuit of wisdom, or the study of civilizations past. And yet, where would our world be without Horace, or Pliny, or Ptolemy? Those men straddled the world like gods. Their voices ring through the ages. We owe it to new generations to keep their words alive. These men taught us to look at the stars—how else could we reach for them?

I was about to answer when there came a peremptory knock at the door. It opened to reveal the girl Benedicta, looking slightly nervous. She was carrying an object that I first took to be a small radio, and which looked rather familiar, and which emitted a crackling sound.

A few seconds later, Danielle appeared. “I told her you were in a meeting, miss,” she said, addressing La Buckfast. “She must have snuck in while I was making tea.”

Ms. Buckfast smiled. “That’s fine, Danielle.” Then, addressing the girl, she said: “Won’t you come in, Benedicta? Mr. Straitley was leaving.”

Benedicta shook her head. “Not until you’ve heard this.”

She held out the object in her hand. At the press of a switch, the sound of amplified voices reached us. It took me a moment to identify those of Dr. Blakely and Allen-Jones. Then I recognized the thing that was not quite a radio. It was that walkie-talkie, the one whereby, according to Allen-Jones’s somewhat overelaborate scheme, Rupert Gunderson was to be revealed as a menacer of boys.

Through the speaker, Allen-Jones’s voice was very clear now. “. . . think your stance on bullying encourages victimization,” we heard. “I’ve been bullied because I’m gay, and I’d like to know where your policy of protecting people from challenging perspectives stands when it comes to protecting me from bullying and bigotry.”

Well, I thought, my Brodie Boys always did have a certain panache. Dr. Blakely was fainter, but his voice was still clearly audible. He is not quite as articulate as Allen-Jones, who has, on occasion, managed to persuade me to overlook homework infractions that would, in normal circumstances, have earned him at least a detention. In fact, for a moment, Thing One was able to give vent only to a series of inarticulate oof-ing sounds, like someone blowing up a balloon, which finally resolved into speech.

“Their bigotry?” he said. “Young man, St. Oswald’s is a Christian school. We have no obligation to protect or promote the so-called perspectives you’re talking about.”

“I think you have,” said Allen-Jones. “Your homophobic policies are directly responsible for the fact that I’m being victimized in the first place. Basically, sir, you’re promoting hatred, which is a crime, according to the 1994 Criminal Justice and Public Order Act.”

Dr. Blakely oof-ed in outrage. “Promoting what?”

“Hatred, sir. Right here, in this pamphlet, sir.”