II.
A QUIET EVENING.
Accrington called it coffee, but Reggie stipulated for a bottle of brandy to be kept in the cupboard. As Freddy and I climbed the staircase in the corner of the Quad we heard the strident tones of our host proclaiming that he was ‘looking for a needle in a haystack.’ This, however, did not in any way justify Freddy’s throwing an empty tobacco tin at him immediately on entering the room, and it seemed only just that the others should show their disapproval of this action by throwing their cushions at Freddy. I alone missed him, but the Pilot was rude enough to say that I must have aimed at Freddy, because I got in a bull’s-eye on a tray containing glasses and syphons which was balanced on a Japanese stool in the corner.
When peace had been restored, Reggie, addressing no one in particular, remarked, ‘The Pilot was seen at the gathering at Martyrs’ Memorial last night.’
‘You’re an artistic liar,’ replied the Pilot, who is not as meek as he looks. And the slight struggle that ensued awoke Fatty, who was peacefully perusing ‘Pick-me-up’ in the corner.
‘I don’t know whose rooms these are,’ he murmured sleepily, ‘but it is customary among gentlemen to offer refreshment to a visitor upon arrival;’ and then, after a plaintive pause, ‘I have been here just three-quarters of an hour.’ After his thirst had been satisfied he was led to the piano, and proceeded to play ‘Hiawatha,’ ‘in order,’ as Reggie explained, ‘to get it over.’
‘Henry Dalston,’ said Freddy, addressing the pianist, ‘as a balloon you are incomparable, but as an ivory-thumper you only take a gulf, and if the same would swallow you up it would be better still.’
‘He takes,’ said Accrington wearily, ‘he takes at least five pounds’ worth of use out of my piano every term; “Hiawatha” about plays itself now.’
‘Then why don’t you make him hire a piano?’ said Reggie.
‘He used to,’ put in Freddy with a gurgling laugh, ‘until we played it the night he was in London, and the Dean had it sent out of College before he came back.’