“He’s generally with Wyatt when I meet him.”
“Yes. Well, then!”
“What’s wrong with Wyatt? He’s one of the decentest men in the
school.”
“I know. But he’s working up for a tremendous row one of these days,
unless he leaves before it comes off. The odds are, if Jackson’s so
thick with him, that he’ll be roped into it too. Wyatt wouldn’t land
him if he could help it, but he probably wouldn’t realise what he was
letting the kid in for. For instance, I happen to know that Wyatt
breaks out of his dorm. every other night. I don’t know if he takes
Jackson with him. I shouldn’t think so. But there’s nothing to prevent
Jackson following him on his own. And if you’re caught at that game,
it’s the boot every time.”
Trevor looked disturbed.
“Somebody ought to speak to Bob.”
“What’s the good? Why worry him? Bob couldn’t do anything. You’d only
make him do the policeman business, which he hasn’t time for, and
which is bound to make rows between them. Better leave him alone.”
“I don’t know. It would be a beastly thing for Bob if the kid did get
into a really bad row.”
“If you must tell anybody, tell the Gazeka. He’s head of Wain’s, and
has got far more chance of keeping an eye on Jackson than Bob has.”
“The Gazeka is a fool.”
“All front teeth and side. Still, he’s on the spot. But what’s the
good of worrying. It’s nothing to do with us, anyhow. Let’s stagger
out, shall we?”
* * * * *
Trevor’s conscientious nature, however, made it impossible for him to
drop the matter. It disturbed him all the time that he and Clowes were
on the river; and, walking back to the house, he resolved to see Bob
about it during preparation.
He found him in his study, oiling a bat.
“I say, Bob,” he said, “look here. Are you busy?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s this way. Clowes and I were talking----”
“If Clowes was there he was probably talking. Well?”
“About your brother.”
“Oh, by Jove,” said Bob, sitting up. “That reminds me. I forgot to get
the evening paper. Did he get his century all right?”
“Who?” asked Trevor, bewildered.
“My brother, J. W. He’d made sixty-three not out against Kent in this
morning’s paper. What happened?”
“I didn’t get a paper either. I didn’t mean that brother. I meant the
one here.”
“Oh, Mike? What’s Mike been up to?”
“Nothing as yet, that I know of; but, I say, you know, he seems a
great pal of Wyatt’s.”
“I know. I spoke to him about it.”
“Oh, you did? That’s all right, then.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with Wyatt.”
“Not a bit. Only he is rather mucking about this term, I hear. It’s
his last, so I suppose he wants to have a rag.”
“Don’t blame him.”
“Nor do I. Rather rot, though, if he lugged your brother into a row by
accident.”
“I should get blamed. I think I’ll speak to him again.”
“I should, I think.”
“I hope he isn’t idiot enough to go out at night with Wyatt. If Wyatt
likes to risk it, all right. That’s his look out. But it won’t do for
Mike to go playing the goat too.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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