“No,” said Trevor; “as a matter of fact, I came to tell you to turn out for running and passing with the first tomorrow afternoon. You’re playing against Ripton on Saturday.”
Rand-Brown’s attitude underwent a complete transformation at the news. He became friendliness itself.
“All right,” he said. “I say, I’m sorry I said what I did about lying. I was rather sick that you should think I wrote that rot you showed me. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not a bit. Do you mind my searching your study?”
For a moment Rand-Brown looked vicious. Then he sat down with a laugh.
“Go on,” he said; “I see you don’t believe me. Here are the keys if you want them.”
Trevor thanked him, and took the keys. He opened every drawer and examined the writing-desk. The bat was in none of these places. He looked in the cupboards. No bat there.
“Like to take up the carpet?” inquired Rand-Brown.
“No, thanks.”
“Search me if you like. Shall I turn out my pockets?”