Ferrers obeyed the bidding of the master-mind, and by a rapid flank march got in front of Bags, who called to him. But he took no notice, and presently David saw him lead off his minor like a policeman. At that his habitually seraphic face grew a shade more angelic, and any one who did not know him must have been surprised that wings did not sprout from his low slim shoulders. The Machiavellian device which he had practised had come to him like an inspiration: if Bags’s conscience was clear, he would not mind a scrap for the wakefulness of young Ferrers, and David was morally (or immorally) sure that Bags’s conscience was not immaculate. He had had something to do with the disappearance of the stag-beetles, though exactly what David had no idea. Then he gave a little cackle of delight, for he saw that Bags had stopped in his indolent stroll with the racquet-handle; then that he turned and was coming back towards him. David lay down at full length and whistled in an absent manner. Without looking, he became aware that Bags was standing close to him. “I say, Blazes, I want to tell you something,” said that conscious-stricken one at length. David sat up with an air of great surprise. “Hallo: that you?” he said. “Tell away then, if it won’t take too long.” “Well, it’s private. You must swear not to tell any one.” David shook his head. “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” he said. “Why not?” David turned on him an indulgent glance. “Oh, I expect you know,” he said. “It’s partly because I know already what you’re going to tell me, and partly because you’re a swindling, stealing liar, and the sooner other chaps know that the better.” Bags made a swinging blow in the air with his racquet-handle. “Well then, I don’t care,” he said. “I’ll give you three of the jolliest cuts you ever had at twelve.” “Will you? After Ferrers Minor has told his story?” asked David. “Well, I tried to get out of it,” said the unhappy Bags. “There was an awful bright moon last night, Crabtree,” said David thoughtfully. “But about what you want to tell me. It might make a difference if you told me voluntarily.” Bags capitulated. “Well, then, I took your beastly stag-beetles, and put them back on your bed when you had gone to your bath.” “Oh, that was the way it was?” said David. “Pretty cute. But then, you see, I was cuter. Ferrers Minor didn’t lie awake a minute, as far as I know. But I saw you had a bad conscience. Can’t think why you didn’t accept my challenge straight off. Why didn’t you?” He looked at the dejected Bags, and his funny boyish little soul suddenly grew perceptive. “What’s the row, Bags?” he asked. Bags sat down on the grass by him.