"I could wear my topper," said Kennedy, with a grin. "You see," he added, "I've not much choice. I must do something. If I took no notice of this business there'd be no holding the house. I should be ragged to death. It's no good talking about it. Personally, I should prefer touching the chap up to fighting him, and I shall try it on. But he's not likely to meet me half-way. And if he doesn't there'll be an interesting turn-up, and you shall hold the watch. I'll send a kid round to fetch you when things look like starting. I must go now to interview my missing men. So long. Mind you slip round directly I send for you." "Wait a second. Don't be in such a beastly hurry. Who's the chap you're going to fight?" "I don't know yet. Walton, I should think. But I don't know." "Walton! By Jove, it'll be worth seeing, anyhow, if we _are_ both sacked for it when the Old Man finds out." Kennedy returned to his study and changed his football boots for a pair of gymnasium shoes. For the job he had in hand it was necessary that he should move quickly, and football boots are a nuisance on a board floor. When he had changed, he called Spencer. "Go down to the senior dayroom," he said, "and tell MacPherson I want to see him." MacPherson was a long, weak-looking youth. He had been put down to play for the house that day, and had not appeared. "MacPherson!" said the fag, in a tone of astonishment, "not Walton?" He had been looking forward to the meeting between Kennedy and his ancient foe, and to have a miserable being like MacPherson offered as a substitute disgusted him. "If you have no objection," said Kennedy, politely, "I may want you to fetch Walton later on." Spencer vanished, hopeful once more. "Come in, MacPherson," said Kennedy, on the arrival of the long one; "shut the door." MacPherson did so, feeling as if he were paying a visit to the dentist. As long as there had been others with him in this affair he had looked on it as a splendid idea. But to be singled out like this was quite a different thing. "Now," said Kennedy, "Why weren't you on the field this afternoon?" "I--er--I was kept in." "How long?" "Oh--er--till about five." "What do you call about five?" "About twenty-five to," he replied, despondently. "Now look here," said Kennedy, briskly, "I'm just going to explain to you exactly how I stand in this business, so you'd better attend. I didn't ask to be made head of this sewage depot. If I could have had any choice, I wouldn't have touched a Kayite with a barge-pole. But since I am head, I'm going to be it, and the sooner you and your senior dayroom crew realise it the better. This sort of thing isn't going on. I want to know now who it was put up this job. You wouldn't have the cheek to start a thing like this yourself. Who was it?" "Well--er--" "You'd better say, and be quick, too. I can't wait. Whoever it was. I shan't tell him you told me. And I shan't tell Kay. So now you can go ahead. Who was it?" "Well--er--Walton."