There was a blank silence. Linton whistled softly to himself.
The gaze of the senior day-room was concentrated on that ridge of purple beneath Sheen's left eye.
Clayton was the first to speak. For some time he had been waiting for sufficient silence to enable him to proceed with his presidential duties. He addressed himself to Sheen.
"Look here, Sheen," he said, "we want to know what you've got to say for yourself. You go disgracing the house—"
The stunned senior day-room were roused to speech.
"Oh, chuck it, Clayton."
"Don't be a fool, Clayton."
"Silly idiot!"
Clayton looked round in pained surprise at this sudden withdrawal of popular support.
"You'd better be polite to Sheen," said Linton; "he won the Light-Weights at Aldershot yesterday."