Mr. Dutton turned.
“Blaize is late for lock-up,” he said. “I have just set him two hundred lines.”
“Well, Blaize?” said the Head.
David shook off the guilty slouch, and stood erect and confident.
“Please, sir, I was walking with my father,” he said. “Mr. Dutton didn’t ask me to explain, as he went on about my being out first ball and missing that catch.”
“You have only just left your father?” asked the Head.
“Yes, sir, two minutes ago.”
The Head nodded.
“We will remit that imposition,” he observed.
Then David suddenly stared at that which he had been secretly glancing at, namely, the whorl of smoke from Mr. Dutton’s pocket.