“No one owned to having taken it, that’s certain.”
“I should hope not. Not the sort of thing any fellow here would do.”
“That’s just what I should have thought,” said Loman. “But the fact is, some one did take it—you can guess who—and you don’t suppose I was going to be fool enough to take any trouble over my answers when I knew one of the other fellows had had the paper in his pocket a day and a half before the exam.” And here Loman laughed.
“Do you mean to say Greenfield stole it?” exclaimed both the friends at once, in utter astonishment.
“I mean to say you’re not far wrong. But you’d better ask some of the Fifth. It’s all come out, I hear, there.”
“And you knew of it before the exam?”
“I guessed it; or you may be sure I’d have taken a little more trouble over my answers. It wasn’t much use as it was.”
Loman had the satisfaction of seeing the two Sixth boys depart in amazement, and the still greater satisfaction of seeing them a little later in confidential conference with Simon, from whom he guessed pretty correctly they would be sure to get a full “all-round” narrative of the whole affair.
“I’m all right with the Sixth, anyhow,” muttered he to himself. “I only wish I was as right with that blackguard Cripps.”
“That blackguard Cripps” had, next afternoon, the peculiar pleasure of welcoming his young friend and patron under the hospitable roof of the Cockchafer. As usual, he was as surprised as he was delighted at the honour done him, and could not imagine for the life of him to what he was indebted for so charming a condescension. In other words, he left Loman to open the business as best he could.