We could not induce the Bobbies, who were civil enough, to release their prisoner. I tried reasoning with Woodbine, but he perpetually shifted his ground, while his assessment of the probable amount of damage at over forty pounds was so unreasonable that it was useless to attempt to come to terms.
De Beresford, who had disappeared mysteriously, returned very soon with a brandy and soda which he bestowed upon Downey, and then finding all remonstrances with Woodbine quite unavailing, we resumed our seats, St. Ronots, Elgar and everybody who had taken an active part in the fracas, having executed a masterly retreat to their respective Colleges, directly they heard that the Manager had telephoned for the Proctor.
I found a resting place on the wreckage of some stalls beside de Beresford and Evelyn, with Reggie just in front of us, and we sat thus until the familiar face of the most genial of the Proctors, followed by a singularly funereal bull-dog, appeared in the doorway. At this juncture Freddy, Accrington and Stanhope, together with about a couple of score more ’Varsity men, whose faces we knew by sight but not to speak to, departed comfortably and without any undue haste by the extra exit. Most of us however who had perfectly clear consciences sat tight and gave our names to the Proctor, not with any idea of ultimately contributing to the University Chest, but merely as a guarantee of good faith. As soon as we had performed our own particular share of this little formality, Reggie and I with de Beresford left the house in search of our first liquid refreshment, picking up on our way Stanhope and Freddy who had been carefully concealed in the pit. We reached that admirable institution, the Cowley Bowling Club, of which most of us are members, and were enjoying a little well-earned refreshment, when to our amazement the ubiquitous Proctor with the iniquitous bull-dogs appeared in the entrance. Houseman advanced and was about to address Reggie, who was surveying him with no very friendly expression, when the excellent barman appeared suddenly from the back-room and asked the Proctor if he was a member of the Club, which honour he was compelled to disclaim, but expressed a desire to speak with some of the young gentlemen present. The wily barman however asked if Houseman had a warrant to enter the club, and on hearing that he had not, asked him most politely to withdraw at once. The Proctor complied with this request with the best grace possible under the circumstances, but I have seldom seen bull-dogs look more malevolent than Houseman’s two attendants. No, not even when a pair of them tracked me four weary miles on foot only to find that the fair lady with whom I had been sharing a cab at midnight was indeed my second cousin.
Having congratulated ourselves and the barman upon his presence of mind, we finished our drinks and returned to the Suburban, where the show seemed to be going on peacefully. Two bicyclists were chasing one another round and round upon a sloping circular track at a tremendous rate, and whenever they stopped for breath the showman filled in the interval with an explanatory speech.
Unfortunately this same showman was an extremely sour looking person and presented a most remarkable appearance. He had a brown bowler hat and trousers, green waistcoat, and black expression, which ‘tout ensemble’ constrained St. Ronots to cheer—though not very lustily—at the wrong moment, thereby greatly enraging the human kaleidoscope, who signalled to Woodbine to remove the Hereditary Legislator from the House. That individual advanced with some circumspection and requested St. Ronots peremptorily to ‘go outside quietly,’ but our friend who had really done nothing wrong, not unnaturally declined to comply with his request, and so the Manager was compelled to fall back upon his oleaginous smile and the Proctor. That gentleman came across to the Hereditary Legislator and exchanged a word or two with him and then appeared to metaphorically put Woodbine through the mangle, for he departed sadly to the Temperance Bar for another cigarette while the Proctor went quietly home. For the remaining hour or so, we really watched the performance, which was rather diverting, and leaving in a body at about eleven o’clock, finished the evening in our rooms.
On Monday morning, in response to urgent notices from the Junior Proctor, a large party assembled at the leprous hour of nine in his rooms at James’. We noticed, as we entered the ante-room, the Assistant Manager of the Suburban Palace of Varieties clad in the usual check cycling-suit and bowler hat, besides several promising looking criminals who were obviously witnesses in various cases coming up for investigation. After exchanging greetings with Squiff and Accrington, Reggie and I selected the two most comfortable chairs and sat down to wait, while the party were passed in one by one to the torture-chamber. More and more people continued to arrive, including Bob Parclane, arrayed in the inevitable eye-glass and check-coat, who was conducting a party accused of throwing bottles out of a window at an elderly citizen. There were also two gentlemen of our acquaintance, who had been so indiscreet as to empty the contents of a syphon upon some wayfarer’s head below their windows in Unity.
After waiting an interminable time, during which the crowd at the door never seemed to grow less, I was ushered in and questioned, but on disclaiming any share in the riot, was politely bowed out. Reggie, who followed me, could not truthfully say this, and was noted down for further reference, and a share in the damages. By this time it was ten o’clock, and we hurried off to join St. Ronots, who was waiting to breakfast with us at the O.U.D.S., and to take tickets for the next musical comedy, which was nothing less than the ever popular ‘Cinq Demi-Vierges.’ In the course of the day every one who had attended the Proctorial Levée received a notice regretting that the J.P. must ask us to pay a pound apiece by that evening, which we accordingly did. It was suggested that an indignation meeting of the shareholders in Bridgeley, Houseman & Co., Proctors and General Collectors, should be summoned to demand a statement of accounts, and Reggie, who had just paid four golden sovereigns into the concern, waxed most eloquent upon the subject, but nothing ever came of it. As the Pilot cheerfully remarked on his return from taking a pound share, ‘It is indeed wonderful how we put up with our Pastors and Masters.’