'That's what I always say to myself when I'm touched up,' added Kendal.
I said nothing, but it was to me that the wounded one addressed himself.
'You utter ass,' he said, in tones of concentrated venom.
'Look here, Bradshaw—' I began, protestingly.
'It's all through you—you idiot,' he snarled. 'I got twelve.'
'Twelve isn't so dusty,' said White, critically. 'Most I ever got was six.'
'But why was it?' asked Kendal. 'That's what we want to know. What have you been and gone and done?'
'It's about that Euripides paper,' said Bradshaw.
'Ah!' said Kendal.
'Yes, I don't mind telling you about it now. When Mellish had me up after school today, I'd got my yarn all ready. There wasn't a flaw in it anywhere as far as I could see. My idea was this. I told him I'd been to Yorke's room the day before the exam, to ask him if he had any marks for us. That was all right. Yorke was doing the two Unseen papers, and it was just the sort of thing a fellow would do to go and ask him about the marks.'