“Yes, here he comes,” he said. “I’ll back you up. But, what is it?” “Oh, you’ll see,” said David. Bags made a truculent approach, swinging his racquet-handle. He had done all that could humanly be done in the easing of his conscience, and since he had been literally unable to get out of the rôle of executioner with honour, he had wisely determined to dwell on the bright side of it, and hit as hard as he could in the same place. “I’ll lick you now if you like,” he said brightly. David turned a cold face on him. “Thanks, awfully,” he said, “but we settled it for twelve. You see, a good deal may happen before twelve. Ferrers and I were just talking it over. Wasn’t it a pity that Ferrers Minor slept so badly last night?” This remark seemed slightly to disconcert Bags, but he carried it off with fair success. “The point?” asked Bags politely, slapping his leg gently with the racquet-handle. “Oh, thought you might see it,” said David. “The point is that he didn’t go to sleep before—when was it, Ferrers?” “He heard the clock strike one,” said Ferrers, at a venture. A shade of relief crossed Bags’s face, which the Machiavellian David noticed. “I still don’t see the point,” said Bags. David pursued his ripping plan. “No, you’ve mixed it up, you goat,” he said to Ferrers. “Your minor told me he awoke and heard the clock strike one, and lay awake till dressing-bell. Bang, wide awake, like—like toothache.” “Sorry, of course it was,” said Ferrers, backing his fellow-conspirator up. Bags shrugged his shoulders, and began to walk away. “Afraid I can’t see the point,” he said. “So I’ll whack you at twelve, Blazes.” David lay down again with complete unconcern. “Right oh,” he said. “But, of course, if you’ve got anything to say about it all, you might be wise to say it yourself, and not let—well, somebody else say it for you. Ferrers Minor hasn’t told anybody yet, except his major and me. Not yet, you know,” he added. Bags appeared to take no notice of this, unless he strolled away rather more deliberately than before. Then David turned quickly to Ferrers and whispered in his ear. “Go and find your minor,” he said, “and don’t let Bags talk to him. I’m going to stop here. I shouldn’t wonder if Bags came back.” “But what on earth is it all about?” asked Ferrers. David’s eyes sparkled with devilish intrigue. “Can’t explain now,” he said. “Just go and stick on to your minor, and don’t let Bags question him. There’s something up.”