“We did, but it’s no use to us now. We’ve made up our minds what to do.”
“Well, shall I tell the Head that you did often support the authority of the sixth? It might make him less sick with you.”
“Rubbish!” said Gregson. “You’re proposing these things now simply because you want us not to tell the Head our side of it. Is that the reason, or not?”
“I think it would——”
“ ‘Yes’ or ‘no,’ ” said Brother Blaize in a terrible voice.
“Yes.”
“Why not have asked for mercy sooner then, instead of giving yourself all these airs? Get on!”
It was a very unstuffed Manton who was left at the end of this recital, for though he had not told the Head anything palpably false, yet the picture the Head must have drawn of the whole affair was about as erroneous as it could possibly be. He had let the Head assume that the authority of the prefects over the house was complete and satisfactory until the Court of Appeal set itself up, and he had certainly not said that the Court in most cases endorsed their authority, and saw that their orders were obeyed. All this was drawn from him by cool and ruthless questioning.
At the end David gave a long whistle.
“Well, ’pon my word, you are in a mess,” he said. “I’m not at all sure that I shouldn’t resign my prefectship if I were you before the Head kicked me out. You are the deuce of a hand at suppressio veri—ain’t that it, Brother Gregson? Why there isn’t an ounce of truth that you haven’t suppressed. And it’s all as full of suggestio—er——”