"But you hadn't."
"No, but that doesn't make any difference. The Subby may be a fair ass, but I caught hold of him, and I must be a bigger fool than he is. It's the last time I ever try to rescue a don."
Two senior men, Bagshaw and Crane came into the room and overheard my last remark, so I had to tell them the whole thing over again. Both of them laughed tremendously, but Crane, who was captain of the college cricket eleven, and President of the Mohocks, which was the inappropriate name of the St. Cuthbert's wine club, seemed to be more amused at the solemn way I told the story, while Bagshaw said he would have given anything to have seen the Subby rushing down-stairs. They laughed loudly, and as soon as I could escape I went back to my rooms, leaving Jack Ward to talk to them.
For once I wanted to be by myself, but there was no shaking off Ward that morning, and he turned up again in about ten minutes and said that he had told his scout to bring his lunch round to my rooms. I had struggled nobly with breakfast, but I hated the suggestion of more food and told him he had better go and eat somewhere else. My head ached abominably, and I wanted to sit by the fire and go to sleep. Ward, however, decided that I wanted cheering up, though how he was likely to enliven me by eating when I had no appetite he did not tell me. As a matter of fact cheering me up was only an excuse, what he really wanted to do was to give me the explanation which he thought I must be expecting. If he had known me better he would not have expected me to wait for anything, had I imagined any explanation was necessary I should have asked him for it at once. But I was not taking any interest in explanations, my mouth felt like a cinder, and when some man had met me in the quad and told me I looked "precious cheap," which is an expression I detest, I had not the energy to retaliate.
Ward, having eaten his luncheon and gulped down a most horrible quantity of beer, lit a cigarette, and sat down by the fire.
"You must think me a most awful brute for having got out of this row," he began. I told him that if he felt as I did, he would think everybody in the world was a brute.
"Well, you see," he went on, "I got the thing up and the Subby didn't send for me."
"It was Dennison's fault," I said, for I saw no good in dividing the blame, "and if a man can't take his luck in these things he is no use to anybody. My luck's always vile, but that doesn't matter to any one except me, and I am used to it."
He took no notice of what I said, and continued, "So I told the Subby it was my fault, but when I saw him I thought only Collier, Webb and Lambert had been nailed."
I roused myself and looked at Ward, who was staring into the fire.