Bags sat up in bed and yawned heavily, to give himself time to think.
“Do you really think I would touch those filthy crawlers?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter what I think,” said David. “I want to know if you did.”
Bags was considerably astounded by David’s having so instantly suspected him, considering that he had agreed to pax yesterday evening.
“Well then, I didn’t,” he said. “So that’s flat. Where did you put them last night?”
“In my basin,” said David.
Suddenly Bags saw the stout figure of the matron in the ante-room just outside the dormitory, while David, facing towards him, could not see her. If he could detain David in talk here for a minute, it was more than likely that she would hear voices, and find him out of his cubicle, in which case she would certainly report him to the Head. He had not forgotten about the incident as they went into chapel last night, and the temptation was too strong.
He laughed silently into his bed-clothes.
“What are you laughing at?” said David, raising his voice. “What’s the blooming joke?”
Bags did not answer, and David repeated his question. At that Bags saw that the matron had heard the talking, and was advancing in her felt slippers up the dormitory. She was already past David’s cubicle, and retreat was cut off. He sank back gently into bed. “Cave,” he whispered, “there’s Glanders coming! and stag-beetles can fly. Fancy not knowing that!”