“Oh, that’s a lie, isn’t it?” he said.
Bags was between the devil and the deep sea, and any other uncomfortable neighbours that are possible to a boy. He had been quite prepared to take a whacking on David’s behalf, and, though the flesh was weak, his spirit really embraced the opportunity. But now, just as likely as not, he was going to take a whacking on his own behalf, without getting David off. It was all pretty bad, but how could he have foreseen that Maddox would look at the title-page, or have forgotten that David had been such a juggins as to write his name there? So, being landed in this awkward place, he made up his mind to stop there.
“No, that’s all right,” he said. “I wrote Blaize’s name there.”
Maddox looked at him, so it seemed to Bags, with a certain respectful sympathy.
“And in David’s handwriting?” he asked. “Makings of a forger. And are you doing Thucydides this half? David is, I know, because I’ve often given him construes. But you’re in the other remove, aren’t you?”
It was no use lying about this. Bags surrendered and told the truth.
“Yes, in Remove B,” he said.
“Then you can’t be doing Thucydides, because they always do different books. Oh, cave in! Out with it!”
“Well, then, it’s Blaize’s crib,” said the unsuccessful Bags.
“So I knew. Why did you say it was yours?”