“I’ll lick you now if you like,” he said brightly.
David turned a cold face on him.
“Thanks, awfully,” he said, “but we settled it for twelve. You see, a good deal may happen before twelve. Ferrers and I were just talking it over. Wasn’t it a pity that Ferrers Minor slept so badly last night?”
This remark seemed slightly to disconcert Bags, but he carried it off with fair success.
“The point?” asked Bags politely, slapping his leg gently with the racquet-handle.
“Oh, thought you might see it,” said David. “The point is that he didn’t go to sleep before—when was it, Ferrers?”
“He heard the clock strike one,” said Ferrers, at a venture.
A shade of relief crossed Bags’s face, which the Machiavellian David noticed.
“I still don’t see the point,” said Bags.
David pursued his ripping plan.