“That’s all right, Monsieur Alexandre l’habile!” (Bert groaned in protest.) “I’m not talking through my hat—”
“That is to be seen,” murmured Bert. “Though why you didn’t say chapeau—”
“And if I had to, if it was necessary for the—the success of the Team, I could put a spoke in Burton’s wheel all right, all right!”
Bert frowned. “Don’t talk silly, Tommy! Just what are you getting at, anyway?”
But Tommy shook his head again, filled his mouth with peanuts and looked suddenly extremely secretive, even stupid. Bert grunted. “That sort of talk isn’t nice, Tommy. Better lay off.”
“All right.” Tommy used a superior tone that made the other frown again. “’Nough said. Have a peanut. Go on. I’ve got another bag coming to me.”
Bert declined, and after a minute he asked: “What other reason have you for changing the old mind? Besides the changes in the team, I mean.”
“Well, I’ve seen Kenly play, for another thing.”
“You have? When?”
“Last Saturday. Goodall and I went over.”