"Now I suppose I shall have to show that little beast up to Matheson," said Loring, when all was over. "And I hope Matheson'll give it to him tight. Life's not safe in the same house with him."
There was a knock at the door, and one of our late victims entered in tweed trousers, felt slippers, and pyjama jacket. The bitterness of death was past, and he smiled cheerfully.
"I say, Loring, you know, it wasn't altogether O'Rane's fault. I started it."
Loring looked at the speaker with cold surprise.
"So far as I remember, you've been dealt with."
"Yes, but I didn't want to get him into a row with Matheson. We were about ten to one."
"You seem to have come off second-best," suggested Draycott.
"I know. He's got some filthy Japanese trick. He'd take on half the school as soon as look at them. Palmer doesn't want a row on his account."
Loring meditated with his hands in his pockets. "Well, you go off to bed now, Venables," he said. "And when you get there, stay there. Good night."
There the matter ended for a time. After first Roll Call next day, Palmer embarked on a long and patient explanation of his bandaged head. He had been walking quietly down the middle of the dormitory when he caught his foot in the cord of someone else's dressing-gown. Pitching forward and trying to recover his balance.... Matheson shook an uncomprehending head and hurried away to Chapel.