“Ask a policeman,” replied the ribald official. “You’ve had a short time and a merry one, my young gentleman; but it’s over at last.”
“But I never—”
“Sharp’s the word!” interrupted he.
“You’d better cut,” said the Philosophers. “We’ll give you a lift if we can.”
It was poor consolation, but such as it was I valued it. Never a criminal walked to the gallows with as heavy a heart as I followed the school messenger across the quadrangle and past the fated gymnasium to the head master’s study.
There I found four people waiting to see me. Tempest looking very sullen, the head master looking very grave, Mr Jarman looking very vicious, and a policeman looking very cheerful.