"I see you've inherited your pater's law books. The school goes home to-morrow, doesn't it? Well, my Lord Chief Justice, in what relation do you stand towards the school to-morrow? Are you Captain?"
"No," said I, in my best legal manner. "There is no school to-morrow—ergo, there cannot be a captain of a non-existent thing. To-morrow is a dies non as far as I'm concerned. Why this thirst for knowledge, Phil?"
"Because I want you to be my second against Acton, and I didn't want your captaincy to aid or abet me in a thing which is against rules."
"I see," said I, warmly, "and I will sink the rules and all the rest, and trust to a little rough justice being done on an arrant scamp."
"Thanks," said Phil. "With you as second and a good cause, I ought to teach Acton a little genuine lesson."
"I'd rather trust in a good straight left."
"All right, then. I'll see Acton now, and bring him to the point."
"Do, and let me have the result."
Phil swung off in that cool, level-headed fashion which is peculiarly his own. He had thought the matter out thoroughly in that five minutes' brown study, and now that he had put his hand to the plough he would not look back. I liked the set shoulders and his even step down the corridor. Surely something must reach Acton now! He walked down the street, turned in at Biffen's yard, and mounted up to Acton's room. He knocked firmly on the partly open door, and when he heard Acton's "Come in," walked solidly in.
Acton smiled amiably when he saw his visitor, and, with his half-foreign politeness, drew out a chair.