But Manton was not quite sure that this was all. Various remarks by one or other of the members of the Court were beginning to cause him somewhat acute internal questionings. In especial he disliked the fact that Adams was in possession of the Court’s side of the case, and as like as not would give the Head the benefit of it.
“Perhaps we might discuss it all a little more,” he said, with a faint air of condescension still lingering about him. “I can—well, go to the Head, because he told me that if I had anything more to tell him, I was to. I might say—I really should be quite glad to—that Crossley and I didn’t want to get you into trouble.”
“Oh that’s all right,” said David cheerfully. “Don’t bother about that; you’ve got us into no trouble at all. I expect we shall come out perfectly right.”
“But the Head was awfully sick about it,” said Manton. “He laid a good deal of stress on the fact that you did set yourselves up as an authority superior to the prefects.”
“I expect I’ll make that all square,” said David. “I dare say I shall put our case as strongly as you put yours. Adams will have done the same too, I’m pretty sure. Of course we thought we might let you down more easily if you told us what you told the Head, and, after all, we gave you an opportunity of doing so. But you didn’t take it, so that’s finished.”
“Well, I think perhaps I was wrong not to tell you,” said Manton.
“I’m sure you were,” assented Bags warmly. “Isn’t it an awful pity one doesn’t think of that sort of thing sooner?”
“And so, if you like, I’ll tell you now,” said Manton, finishing his sentence.
“Oh, we don’t care a hang either way,” said David. “If you wish you may tell us, but it’ll be because you ask us if you may. We don’t want to hear it.”
“But I thought you asked me to,” said this dismal prefect.