'Go and get your machine,' said Gethryn. 'Hurry up. And now you will jolly well come back to Beckford, you little beast.'
But before that could be done there was Gethryn's back wheel to be mended. This took time. It was nearly half past four before they started.
'Oh,' said Gethryn, as they were about to mount, 'there's that money. I was forgetting. Out with it.'
Ten pounds had been the sum Farnie had taken from the study. Six was all he was able to restore. Gethryn enquired after the deficit.
'I gave it to Monk,' said Farnie.
To Gethryn, in his present frame of mind, the mere mention of Monk was sufficient to uncork the vials of his wrath.
'What the blazes did you do that for? What's Monk got to do with it?'
'He said he'd get me sacked if I didn't pay him,' whined Farnie.
This was not strictly true. Monk had not said. He had hinted. And he had hinted at flogging, not expulsion.
'Why?' pursued the Bishop. 'What had you and Monk been up to?'