"And we generally know where the Common-room are," said Beetle triumphantly. "Didn't you come through our lower dormitories last night after ten, sir?""I went to smoke a pipe with your house-master. No, I didn't give him any impressions. I took a short cut through your dormitories.""I sniffed a whiff of 'baccy, this mornin'. Yours is stronger than Mr. Prout's. _I_knew," said Beetle, wagging his head.
"Good heavens!" said the Reverend John absently. It was some years before Beetle perceived that this was rather a tribute to innocence than observation. The long, light, blindless dormitories, devoid of inner doors, were crossed at all hours of the night by masters visiting one another; for bachelors sit up later than married folk. Beetle had never dreamed that there might be a purpose in this steady policing.
"Talking about bullying," the Reverend John resumed, "you all caught it pretty hot when you were fags, didn't you?""Well, we must have been rather awful little beasts," said Beetle, looking serenely over the gulf between eleven and sixteen. "My Hat, what bullies they were then--Fairburn, 'Gobby' Maunsell, and all that gang!""'Member when 'Gobby' called us the Three Blind Mice, and we had to get up on the lockers and sing while he buzzed inkpots at us?" said Stalky. "They _were_ bullies if you like!""But there isn't any of it now," said McTurk soothingly.
"That's where you make a mistake. We're all inclined to say that everything is all right as long we aren't ourselves hurt. I sometimes wonder if it is extinct--bullying."
"Fags bully each other horrid; but the upper forms are supposed to be swottin' for exams. They've got something else to think about," said Beetle.
"Why? What do you think?" Stalky was watching the chaplain's face.
"I have my doubts." Then, explosively, "On my word, for three moderately intelligent boys you aren't very observant. I suppose you were too busy ****** things warm for your house-master to see what lay under your noses when you were in the form-rooms last week?""What, sir? I--I swear we didn't see anything," said Beetle.
"Then I'd advise you to look. When a little chap is whimpering in a corner and wears his clothes like rags, and never does any work, and is notoriously the dirtiest little 'corridor-caution' in the Coll., something's wrong somewhere.""That's Clewer," said McTurk under his breath.
"Yes, Clewer. He comes to me for his French. It's his first term, and he's almost as complete a wreck as you were, Beetle. He's not naturally clever, but he has been hammered till he's nearly an idiot.""Oh, no. They sham silly to get off more tickings,'' said Beetle. "_I_ know that.""I've never actually seen him knocked about," said the Reverend John.
"The genuine article don't do that in public," said Beetle. "Fairburn never touched me when any one was looking on.""You needn't swagger about it, Beetle," said McTurk. "We all caught it in our time.""But I got it worse than any one," said Beetle. "If you want an authority on bullyin', Padre, come to me. Corkscrews--brush-drill--keys--head-knucklin'--arm-twistin'--rockin'--Ag Ags--and all the rest of it.""Yes. I do want you as an authority, or rather I want your authority to stop it--all of you.""What about Abana and Pharpar, Padre--Harrison and Craye? They are Mr. Prout's pets," said McTurk a little bitterly. "We aren't even sub-prefects.""I've considered that, but on the other hand, since most bullying is mere thoughtlessness--""Not one little bit of it, Padre," said McTurk. "Bullies like bullyin'. They mean it. They think it up in lesson and practise it in the quarters.""Never mind. If the thing goes up to the prefects it may make another house-row.
You've had one already. Don't laugh. Listen to me. I ask you--my own Tenth Legion--to take the thing up quietly. I want little Clewer made to look fairly clean and decent--""Blowed if _I_ wash him!" whispered Stalky.
"Decent and self-respecting. As for the other boy, whoever he is, you can use your influence"--a purely secular light flickered in the chaplain's eye--"in any way you please to--to dissuade him. That's all. I'll leave it to you. Good-night, _mes_enfants_.""Well, what are we goin' to do?" Number Five stared at each other.
"Young Clewer would give his eyes for a place to be quiet in. _I_ know that," said Beetle. "If we made him a study-fag, eh?""No!" said McTurk firmly. "He's a dirty little brute, and he'd mess up everything.
Besides, we ain't goin' to have any beastly Erickin'. D'you want to walk about with your arm round his neck?""He'd clean out the jam-pots, anyhow; an' the burnt-porridge saucepan--it's filthy now.""Not good enough," said Stalky, bringing up both heels with a crash on the table.
"If we find the merry jester who's been bullyin' him an' make him happy, that'll be all right. Why didn't we spot him when we were in the form-rooms, though?""Maybe a lot of fags have made a dead set at Clewer. They do that sometimes.""Then we'll have to kick the whole of the lower school in our house--on spec. Come on," said McTurk.
"Keep your hair on! We mustn't make a fuss about the biznai. Whoever it is he's kept quiet or we'd have seen him," said Stalky. "We'll walk round and sniff about till we're sure."They drew the house form-rooms, accounting for every junior and senior against whom they had suspicions; investigated, at Beetle's suggestion, the lavatories and box-rooms, but without result. Everybody seemed to be present save Clewer.
"Rum!" said Stalky, pausing outside a study door. "Golly!"A thin piping mixed with tears came muffled through the panels.
"'As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping--'""Louder, you young devil, or I'll buzz a book at you!""'With, a pitcher of milk--' Oh, Campbell, _please_ don't! 'To the fair of--"A book crashed on something soft, and squeals arose.
"Well, I never thought it was a study-chap, anyhow. That accounts for our not spotting him," said Beetle. "Sefton and Campbell are rather hefty chaps to tackle.
