“I had to pay it to a man to-day, or he said he’d write to the Head--then of course I should get sacked. I was going to take the money to him this afternoon, only I got crocked, so I couldn’t move. I wanted to get hold of you to ask you to take it for me--it’s too late now!” Mike’s face fell. “Oh, hang it!” he said, “I’m awfully sorry. I’d no idea it was anything like that--what a fool I was! Dunster did say he thought it was something important, only like an ass I thought it would do if I came over at lock-up.” “It doesn’t matter,” said Jellicoe miserably; “it can’t be helped.” “Yes, it can,” said Mike. “I know what I’ll do--it’s all right. I’ll get out of the house after lights-out.” Jellicoe sat up. “You can’t! You’d get sacked if you were caught.” “Who would catch me? There was a chap at Wrykyn I knew who used to break out every night nearly and go and pot at cats with an air-pistol; it’s as easy as anything.” The toad-under-the-harrow expression began to fade from Jellicoe’s face. “I say, do you think you could, really?” “Of course I can! It’ll be rather a rag.” “I say, it’s frightfully decent of you.” “What absolute rot!” “But, look here, are you certain----” “I shall be all right. Where do you want me to go?” “It’s a place about a mile or two from here, called Lower Borlock.” “Lower Borlock?” “Yes, do you know it?” “Rather! I’ve been playing cricket for them all the term.” “I say, have you? Do you know a man called Barley?” “Barley? Rather--he runs the ‘White Boar’.” “He’s the chap I owe the money to.” “Old Barley!” Mike knew the landlord of the “White Boar” well; he was the wag of the village team. Every village team, for some mysterious reason, has its comic man. In the Lower Borlock eleven Mr. Barley filled the post. He was a large, stout man, with a red and cheerful face, who looked exactly like the jovial inn-keeper of melodrama. He was the last man Mike would have expected to do the “money by Monday-week or I write to the headmaster” business. But he reflected that he had only seen him in his leisure moments, when he might naturally be expected to unbend and be full of the milk of human kindness. Probably in business hours he was quite different. After all, pleasure is one thing and business another. Besides, five pounds is a large sum of money, and if Jellicoe owed it, there was nothing strange in Mr. Barley’s doing everything he could to recover it. He wondered a little what Jellicoe could have been doing to run up a bill as big as that, but it did not occur to him to ask, which was unfortunate, as it might have saved him a good deal of inconvenience. It seemed to him that it was none of his business to inquire into Jellicoe’s private affairs. He took the envelope containing the money without question. “I shall bike there, I think,” he said, “if I can get into the shed.” The school’s bicycles were stored in a shed by the pavilion.