One afternoon, not long after Sheen's conversation with Linton, Stanning came into Seymour's senior day-room and sat down on the table. The senior day-room objected to members of other houses coming and sitting on their table as if they had bought that rickety piece of furniture; but Stanning's reputation as a bruiser kept their resentment within bounds. "Hullo, you chaps," said Stanning. The members of the senior day-room made no reply, but continued, as Mr Kipling has it, to persecute their vocations. Most of them were brewing. They went on brewing with the earnest concentration of _chefs_. "You're a cheery lot," said Stanning. "But I don't wonder you've got the hump. I should be a bit sick if we'd got a skunk like that in our house. Heard the latest?" Some lunatic said, "No. What?" thereby delivering the day-room bound into the hands of the enemy. "Sheen's apologised to Attell." There was a sensation in the senior day-room, as Stanning had expected. He knew his men. He was perfectly aware that any story which centred round Sheen's cowardice would be believed by them, so he had not troubled to invent a lie which it would be difficult to disprove. He knew that in the present state of feeling in the house Sheen would not be given a hearing. "No!" shouted the senior day-room. This was the last straw. The fellow seemed to go out of his way to lower the prestige of the house. "Fact," said Stanning. "I thought you knew." He continued to sit on the table, swinging his legs, while the full horror of his story sunk into the senior day-room mind. "I wonder you don't do something about it. Why don't you touch him up? He's not a prefect." But they were not prepared to go to that length. The senior day-room had a great respect both for Drummond's word and his skill with his hands. He had said he would slay any one who touched Sheen, and they were of opinion that he would do it. "He isn't in," said one of the brewers, looking up from his toasting-fork. "His study door was open when I passed." "I say, why not rag his study?" suggested another thickly, through a mouthful of toast. Stanning smiled. "Good idea," he said. It struck him that some small upheaval of Sheen's study furniture, coupled with the burning of one or two books, might check to some extent that student's work for the Gotford. And if Sheen could be stopped working for the Gotford, he, Stanning, would romp home. In the matter of brilliance there was no comparison between them. It was Sheen's painful habit of work which made him dangerous. Linton had been listening to this conversation in silence. He had come to the senior day-room to borrow a book. He now slipped out, and made his way to Drummond's study. Drummond was in. Linton proceeded to business. "I say, Drummond." "Hullo?" "That man Stanning has come in. He's getting the senior day-room to rag Sheen's study." "What!" Linton repeated his statement.