Davey stared at him uncertainly.
"You mayn't know, Mr. Farrel," McNab said, an evil light in his yellow eyes, "but Davey, here, is doing an important bit of business with me and you're intrudin'."
The Schoolmaster glanced at him.
"Intruding, am I?" he replied coolly. "Well, it seems to me, it's just about time."
"What do you mean? What the hell do you mean?"
"School's out, Mr. Farrel," Davey crowed, lurching back on his heels. "You hurry up and give me the money, McNab."
McNab put a couple of sovereigns into his hand.
"Come and have a drink, Mr. Farrel," Davey cried boisterously. "There's a couple of chaps in the bar ... waiting for me ... and I'll play you poker, bob rises. Not a dime more."
He staggered across the room and threw open the door into the tap-room. McNab followed him, turning back at the doorway to shoot a glance of triumph at the Schoolmaster.
Davey's appearance in the bar was hailed with a shout. Dan heard the rattling of bottles and glasses, the shouts of laughter, blaring of oaths and stamping of heavy feet that followed the boy's call for drinks all round.