“What’s the matter?”
“Eely hasn’t come down yet.”
“Fatty has. I say, just look at his eyes.”
“Horrid!” I whispered. “He looks fatter than ever. But Eely—oh, I hope he isn’t very bad!”
“I hope he is,” said Mercer maliciously. “He’s been fagging me these three years. I know he’s twice as bad as you, and serve him right.”
We began our dinners, but Mercer’s appetite was as bad as mine. The salt made my mouth smart, and every bite hurt my loose tooth. But there were congratulatory smiles from all round whenever I looked up, and every boy who could reach me with his foot gave me a friendly kick under the table, Mercer coming in for his share. In fact, I found that I had suddenly become the most popular boy in the school, though I did not at all appreciate the honour then.
“Look: there’s Eely,” whispered Mercer, as a tall thin figure now appeared at the door, then suddenly grew shorter by the lad bending down as low as possible, and creeping toward his place by Stewart and Dicksee.
But it was all in vain, the clatter of the knives and forks ceased, and the boys watched him, and whispered, drawing the Doctor’s attention to the bent figure; and once more, after fixing his gold eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose by the hinge, and watching till my late adversary had crept into his place, he tapped the table with his knife-handle loudly.
“Young gentlemen,” he rolled out in sonorous tones, “have the goodness to button up your pockets, and to be on the qui vive. I just saw the door darkened by a sinister-looking figure, which crept in as if to commit a burglary, a petty larceny, a scholastic form of shop-lifting, or some crime of that kind, so be upon your guard. Did any one else see the figure?”
There was a pause, then Dicksee spoke with a malicious grin upon his fat face.