"But he hasn't turned you up again?"
"N-no; but he will. I'd almost sooner he'd do it, and have done with it. I can't sleep."
"Now, don't be a silly fool," John commanded. "I'm going to think this out, and I'll bet I make that fat, pimply beast sit up and howl."
"Thanks awfully, John."
But the more John thought of what he had undertaken to do, the less clearly he saw his way to do it. Evidently Beaumont-Greene was too prudent to bully Fluff; he had resorted to the crueller alternative of terrorizing him. Lawrence would have settled this fellow's hash—so John reflected—in a jiffy, but Trieve, "Miss Trieve," was hopelessly incapable. Presently inspiration came. He seized an opportunity when Beaumont-Greene happened to be by himself; then he marched boldly into his room, leaving the door ajar.
"Hullo! what do you want?"
Beaumont-Greene was sitting opposite the fire, reading a novel and leisurely consuming macaroons.
"I want you to leave young Kinloch alone—please."
Beaumont-Greene nearly choked; then he spluttered out—
"Say that again, will you?"