"An outsider and all," continued Savage. "It's the second desk, though, that are making the set at him."
"What has he done to them?"
"Bother!" said Savage, who was in some difficulty about his cigar.
Brown major was not to be put down; talking was more convenient than smoking just now. "Do you know, Trace?"
"It's no affair of mine," replied Trace coldly, and Irby exchanged a meaning glance with him in the starlight.
"This beastly cigar won't draw at all," exclaimed Savage.
"No, they won't," assented Fullarton, in much wrath; "and I paid threepence apiece for them." For the treat this evening was his. "It's a regular swindle."
"The best cigars—"
"Hist! Who's that?"
The warning came from Trace. Not being occupied as the rest were, his attention was awake, and a sound like a cough had caught his ear from underneath the window. Out went the heads and the cigars, which was a great want of caution. On the gravel walk below, pacing about before the Head Master's study, whose large bay window abutted outwards, was Mr. Henry.