"Right-o! But if I accuse him of supplying smuggled whiskey to the house, and he happens to be innocent, it's possible he may consider it his duty to mention the matter to Chilly. Won't you be rather landed if he does?"
He gazed inquiringly at Linklater, and the latter, thus suddenly cornered, lowered his eyes.
"It isn't the butler," he growled.
"Who is it?"
A pause. Then—"Atkins." (Atkins was the gate porter.)
"Thanks," said Pip. "I'll tell Atkins that if he supplies another bottle I'll report him to the Head. But all that is by the way. What I want to say is this, Link: will you promise me on your honor to drop all this monkey-business and back me up in putting the house in decent order again? This long frost is playing Old Harry with the place; but if you—if we play the man this day, the bottom will drop out of the opposition completely. Will you promise, Link?"
Pip was extremely red in the face. One cannot strain the foundations of an ancient friendship without feeling it.
Linklater looked at him for a moment, and then gazed into the fire.
"Supposing I don't," he said at length.
"But you will?"