But between his costume and that of the rest there was this subtle distinction. They wore their own mackintoshes. He wore somebody else's. The bulk of the School had split up into sections, each section making for its own House, and Merevale's was already in sight, when Harrison felt himself grasped from behind. He turned, to see Graham. 'Might I ask,' enquired Tony with great politeness, 'who said you might wear my mackintosh?' Harrison gasped. 'I suppose you didn't know it was mine?' 'No, no, rather not. I didn't know.' 'And if you had known it was mine, you wouldn't have taken it, I suppose?' 'Oh no, of course not,' said Harrison. Graham seemed to be taking an unexpectedly sensible view of the situation. 'Well,' said Tony, 'now that you know that it is mine, suppose you give it up.' 'Give it up!' 'Yes; buck up. It looks like rain, and I mustn't catch cold.' 'But, Graham, I've only got on--' 'Spare us these delicate details. Mack up, please, I want it.' Finally, Harrison appearing to be difficult in the matter, Tony took the garment off for him, and went on his way. Harrison watched him go with mixed feelings. Righteous indignation struggled with the gravest apprehension regarding his own future. If Merevale should see him! Horrible thought. He ran. He had just reached the House, and was congratulating himself on having escaped, when the worst happened. At the private entrance stood Merevale, and with him the Headmaster himself. They both eyed him with considerable interest as he shot in at the boys' entrance. 'Harrison,' said Merevale after breakfast. 'Yes, sir?' 'The Headmaster wishes to see you--again.' 'Yes, sir,' said Harrison. There was a curious lack of enthusiasm in his voice. [3] L'AFFAIRE UNCLE JOHN (_A Story in Letters_) I From Richard Venables, of St Austin's School, to his brother Archibald Venables, of King's College, Cambridge: Dear Archie--I take up my pen to write to you, not as one hoping for an answer, but rather in order that (you notice the Thucydidean construction) I may tell you of an event the most important of those that have gone before. You may or may not have heard far-off echoes of my adventure with Uncle John, who has just come back from the diamond-mines--and looks it. It happened thusly: