The silence once more became strained.
"Well," said Sheen, "weren't you going to court-martial me, or something? Clayton, weren't you saying something?"
Clayton started. He had not yet grasped the situation entirely; but he realised dimly that by some miracle Sheen had turned in an instant into a most formidable person.
"Er—no," he said. "No, nothing."
"The thing seems to have fallen through, Sheen," said Linton. "Great pity. Started so well, too. Clayton always makes a mess of things."
"Then I'd just like to say one thing," said Sheen.
Respectful attention from the senior day-room.
"I only want to know why you can't manage things of this sort by yourselves, without dragging in men from other houses."
"Especially men like Stanning," said Linton. "The same thing occurred to me. It's lucky Drummond wasn't here. Remember the last time, you chaps?"
The chaps did. Stanning became an object of critical interest. After all, who was Stanning? What right had he to come and sit on tables in Seymour's and interfere with the affairs of the house?