Trevor’s first thought was, perhaps naturally, that the bat was going to be brought into discussion. He was wondering helplessly how he was going to keep O’Hara and his midnight exploit out of the conversation, when the headmaster resumed. “An unpleasant thing has happened, Trevor—”
“Now we’re coming to it,” thought Trevor.
“It appears, Trevor, that a considerable amount of smoking has been going on in the school.”
Trevor breathed freely once more. It was only going to be a mere conventional smoking row after all. He listened with more enjoyment as the headmaster, having stopped to turn down the wick of the reading-lamp which stood on the table at his side, and which had begun, appropriately enough, to smoke, resumed his discourse.
“Mr Dexter—”
Of course, thought Trevor. If there ever was a row in the school, Dexter was bound to be at the bottom of it.
“Mr Dexter has just been in to see me. He reported six boys. He discovered them in the vault beneath the junior block. Two of them were boys in your house.”
Trevor murmured something wordless, to show that the story interested him.
“You knew nothing of this, of course—”
“No, sir.”