"I vowed I wouldn't do it. He'll only chuckle," said Tempest, with a groan. "Let him! Who cares whether Jarman chuckles or not?" retorted the captain. "Look here, old chap, don't you think he'd chuckle more if you got expelled? That would be the biggest score you could give him. Take my advice, and only give him the smallest." "I don't know. I'll think about it," said Tempest. "Of course you will, for the sake of Low Heath. Next term we'll go ahead, and the fellows will owe you more than they think." Here, by an odd chance, just as we came to the school gate, we met Mr Jarman and Crofter walking out in deep confabulation. I do not know if they saw us. If they did, they pretended not to have done so, and walked on, leaving us to proceed. "Do you see that?" said Tempest. "Rather. I know what it means too. It's an extra reason why you should swallow your pride for once, in order to sell them. I tell you they are probably counting on your sticking out, and nothing would disappoint them more." "Well, old chap," said Tempest, as we came to our door, "it's not your fault if I don't do it. I know you're right, but--" "But it's a jolly bitter pill, and I wish I could swallow it for you. Good night." I had the sense for once to keep what I had heard to myself, and retired to bed more hopeful that all would turn out right than I had been for a day or two. The next morning I was wandering about, aloof from my comrades, in the quadrangle, waiting for the bell to ring for first school, when Marple, the town bookseller, a tradesman familiar to most Low Heathens, accosted me. He was evidently not at home in the school precincts, and, with my usual modesty, I felt he had come to the right source for information. "Do you belong to Mr Sharpe's house, young gentleman?" said he, with a respectful nod which quite captivated me. "Yes. Who do you want?" "I want to see Mr Tempest very particular." "Oh, he's up in his room. Wait a bit till the bell rings, and he'll come out." So Mr Marple and I stopped and chatted about the holidays, which were to begin in a day or two, and the football matches and the river. "You know Mr Tempest pretty well?" said he. "Rather; I'm his fag, you know." "A nice gentleman, I fancy. Pretty well off, eh?" "Oh no. He's a swell, but his people are poor, I know." "Oh, indeed. Not likely to buy much in my way, eh?" "Rather not. He's hard up as it is. It's not much good your trying to sell him anything," said I, remembering the rumour about my friend's indebtedness, and anxious to screen him from further debt. "Ah, indeed--he's in debt, is he--all round?" "How do you know that?" said I, bristling up. "I don't expect he owes you anything." Mr Marple laughed. "That's just what he does; that's why I've stepped over. I don't like showing young gents up, but--"