Part 5 (1/2)

Spots looked baffled. The row had been tremendous, yet here everybody was calm and quiet. It must have been Randall's, but they were still at their supper. It was amazing, it was a miracle. To save his face he returned to his study.

Meanwhile it was ascertained that, after some confusion, Toffee Randall had continued his speech: then they heard the long-drawn, surging roar of ”Auld Lang Syne.” It took Randall's twenty minutes to finish ”Auld Lang Syne.”

”The swine,” said Neave. He said it often, but he said it beautifully, with a whining drawl of contempt. ”Just wait till they get to their dormies.”

So they waited, and presently the pandemonium began. Randall's were discovering that not a bed had escaped, not a jug remained. As they looked out of their windows on to the gym roof they realised the full meaning of the battle-cry and the crash that had startled them at their supper.

”Water, water everywhere,” cried Cullen in ecstasy as he heard the tumult rising in the neighbouring house. Randall's, flushed rather with insolence than the weak claret-cup of their supper, bellowed in their dormitories and shouted from their windows: after all none but Berney's could have done the deed. It was sheer joy for Berney's as they listened: wisely they made no answer and Randall's cried aloud in vain.

Again Spots came into the lower dormy. ”What are Randall's shouting about?” he asked.

”Joy of life,” said Neave. ”The swine.”

”Well they needn't yell at us.”

”They've got no manners, Leopard.”

Spots advised his dormy to take no notice of the creatures and again went out.

Shortly before midnight Mr Randall rang at Mr Berney's front door and demanded an interview with the master of the house. Berney came down in his dressing-gown: he was very tired and his eyes ached. He was promptly informed by his raging neighbour that his house had disgraced itself, and he listened to a strange story of soaked beds and broken pitchers. ”Must have been your boys,” Randall ended fiercely. ”The jugs couldn't be thrown on to my gym except from your dormitories.

There has been an invasion. It's scandalous.”

”But what evidence have you?” asked Berney, who hated Randall as only one housemaster can hate another.

”It's obvious, man, obvious. Jealousy. Footer cup. My boys were at supper when the crash was heard: and your boys shouted, I heard them.

Besides, would my people soak their beds? I demand an inquiry. I shall go to Foskett. Your boys shall be kept back a day.”

This roused Berney, whose nerves were already strained with fatigue and worry.

”I entirely decline,” he said sharply, ”to board my boys for an extra day to please you. I shall put the matter in the hands of my prefects.

If that doesn't satisfy you, go to Foskett by all means. You won't get much out of him at this time of night: he's probably more tired than I am. If my prefects find that my boys----”

”There's no 'if,'” said Randall.

”If they find that we're responsible,” Berney continued icily, ”the jugs shall be paid for and the guilty punished. Good-night.” And he led Randall to the door.

Randall was renowned for his temper and his powers of self-expression in school. But now he was sublimely speechless.

Berney held a nocturnal consultation with his form prefects. They all smiled as the tale was told. Spots even roared with laughter.

”Er, Leopard,” said Berney, ”this is--er--a serious matter,” and then he broke down and laughed himself. He and Randall had never hit it off. Spots told Berney of the suspicious innocence of the lower dormitory. Moore had been on duty all the evening in the upper room so that its inhabitants were certainly not guilty. The prefects marched in a body to the lower dormy. ”Look here, you chaps,” said Spots, ”it's all up about this jug business. It was done here. Who are the culprits?”

Simultaneously every boy left his cubicle and said: 'Guilty.' It was a triumph of organisation. Neave had foreseen that detection was inevitable and had determined that, up to the very end, the dormy should display its solidarity.

”Well,” said Spots, ”you'd better all come down to the pre's room.”

So shortly before one o'clock eighteen boys in dressing-gowns, led by Cullen and Neave in garments of great colour and splendour, went down to the prefects' common-room. There was just room for all.

Neave had to tell the whole story: he told it simply and well, duly emphasising the Biblical aspect.