“What,” exclaimed Merrison. “Is Cheeseman in after all, then?”
“Eh?”
“Is Cheeseman in, can’t you hear?”
“I never said he was,” replied Brown, majestically.
This was rather too much, and a simultaneous rush was made for the pompous town boy, and the secret forcibly extracted in double quick time.
“Now,” cried one of the Limpets, giving his arm a premonitory screw, “out with it, or I’m sorry for you.”
“Here, let go my arm, you cad, I say; oh! you hurt! let go, I—oh! oh! Cheeseman’s in!”
The arm was flung away in disgust as a simultaneous groan greeted the announcement.
“How much by?” demanded the inquisitors, once more preparing to apply the screw.
But Brown had had quite enough of it, and answered glibly, “Eight hundred and twenty-five majority!”