But they were not prepared to go to that length. The senior day-room had a great respect both for Drummond's word and his skill with his hands. He had said he would slay any one who touched Sheen, and they were of opinion that he would do it.
"He isn't in," said one of the brewers, looking up from his toasting-fork. "His study door was open when I passed."
"I say, why not rag his study?" suggested another thickly, through a mouthful of toast.
Stanning smiled.
"Good idea," he said.
It struck him that some small upheaval of Sheen's study furniture, coupled with the burning of one or two books, might check to some extent that student's work for the Gotford. And if Sheen could be stopped working for the Gotford, he, Stanning, would romp home. In the matter of brilliance there was no comparison between them. It was Sheen's painful habit of work which made him dangerous.
Linton had been listening to this conversation in silence. He had come to the senior day-room to borrow a book. He now slipped out, and made his way to Drummond's study.
Drummond was in. Linton proceeded to business.
"I say, Drummond."
"Hullo?"