“Singular!” exclaimed the colonel. “I had a chum in India who had a boy at that very school.”
Here the speaker became aware of a sharp kick under the table and a significant look from Mr Rimbolt. The old soldier was used to obey the word of command at a moment’s notice and pulled up now.
“I should think a thing like that would be very bad for the school,” said Mr Rimbolt quietly, and in an off-hand way.
“Fatal,” said Mr Halgrove. “I believe Bolsover went to the dogs after it.”
“And so you had—you had young—what was his name?”
“Jeffreys.”
“Young Jeffreys on your hands?”
“Scarcely. We parted company. As I told him, I never was particular, but a man must draw the line somewhere, and I drew it at manslaughter.”
“What became of him?”
“Well, before I went abroad he was usher in a dame school in York. He may be there still, unless by this time all his pupils are devoured.”