"Did you hear what I said?"
Plunger did another movement with his eccentric eyebrows, then turned on his heel. Paul sprang after him, angry in spite of himself.
"Now look here, Master Plunger," he said, seizing him by the collar, and twisting him sharply round, "none of your nonsense. You needn't pretend that you didn't hear me, because you did. I asked you a civil question, and I want a civil answer."
"You ought to know more about him than I do, Percival. The last I saw of him he was being knocked about for you in the sand-pit."
And Plunger laughed impudently in Paul's face. Paul's hand fell from his collar. The jibe struck home, and Plunger went laughing on his way. He was always supremely happy when he could "score," as he termed it, "off those bounders of the Fifth." Paul felt that he had descended low, indeed, when he could be used as a target for the jibes of Master Freddy Plunger.
He glanced back to the flag that waved above Garside—from the flag to the school door. As he did so, the figure he was looking for appeared in the doorway—the figure of Stanley Moncrief.
CHAPTER XVII
THE "GARGOYLE RECORD"
Stanley was not alone, as Paul hoped he would be. Newall and Parfitt were with him. It was evident that his new-found friends had been "doctoring" him, for the blood had been carefully washed from his face, and it presented a less bruised and battered appearance.