If he had, he was in for it.

If he had not, why on earth did he stand there at the window?
Georgie's performance ended in a humiliating wriggle back along the gutter to the trap-door.

He dared not show so much as his "whisker" above the parapet, and as the parapet was only high enough to conceal him as he lay full length on his face, the return journey was both painful and tedious.
At last he reached the door where the faithful Coote anxiously awaited him, wondering what had kept him, and not sure whether the peculiar manner in which he advanced to the door was to be regarded as a joke or a feat of agility.
As Heathcote did not gratify his curiosity on this point, he received the hero with a smile of mingled humour and admiration, and then followed him in his precipitate descent to the lower world.
At the bottom of the staircase, Duffield was comfortably lounging.
"Hullo, kids!" he said, "you've got down then?
What a mess you're in! Mansfield wants you, Heathcote." And the messenger departed, whistling a cheery tune, and dribbling Coote's cap, after the straightest rules of the Association, across the Quad before him.
Heathcote's face lengthened.

This was the triumphal reception which was to greet him on his return to earth, the mention of which was to set Dick's teeth gnashing! He walked sulkily to Mansfield's study, and knew his fate almost before he entered the room.
The Captain was stern and cutting.

He wasted few words in inquiry, still fewer in expostulation.
"You're one of the boys it's no use talking to," he said, almost scornfully.