ou to leave young Kinloch alone--_please_."

Beaumont-Greene nearly choked; then he spluttered out--

"Say that again, will you?"

"I want you to leave young Kinloch alone."

"Really? Anything else?"

"Nothing more, thank you."

Beaumont-Greene slowly raised himself out of his chair and glared at
John, whose head came to his chin.

"You've plenty of cheek."

"What I have isn't spotty, anyway."

John saw the veins begin to swell in Beaumont-Greene's throat. He
thought with relief of the door ajar, but it was part of his policy--a
carefully devised policy--to provoke, if possible, a scene. Then
others would interfere, explanations would be in order, and public
opinion would accomplish the rest.

"You infernal young jackanapes!"

"You pretty pet!"

"Get out of my room! Hook it!"

"I want to," said John, coolly enough, although his heart was
throbbing. "It's horribly fuggy in here, and I've Jambi[1] to do; but
I'm not going till you give me your word that you'll leave young
Kinloch alone."

"If you don't walk out I'll chuck you out."

"You must catch me first," said John.

And then a very pretty chase took place. Beaumont-Greene, fat, scant
of breath, full of macaroons, began to pursue John round and round the
table. John skilfully interposed chairs, sofa-cushions, anything he
could lay hands on. Passing the washstand, he secured an enormous
sponge, which an instant later flew souse into the face of the grampus.
An abridged edition of Liddell and Scott's Greek Lexicon followed.
This nearly brought the big fellow to grass. In his rage he, too,
began to hurl what objects happened to be within reach, but he was a
shocking bad shot; he missed, or John dodged every time. John did not
miss. Finally, as John had foreseen, a couple of Sixth Form fellows
rushed in.

"What's the meaning of this infernal row?" asked one.

"Ask him," said John.

Authority stared at Beaumont-Greene, and then at his wrecked room.

"I told him to hook it, and he wouldn't," spluttered the gasping Greene.

"Why?"

Half a dozen other fellows had come into the room. Amongst them the
Duffer and the Caterpillar.

"I wanted to hook it," John explained, "because it's so beastly fuggy;
but Beaumont-Greene wouldn't promise me to do something he ought to do."

"This is mysterious."

"The swaggering young blackguard cheeked me," growled Greene.

"I was very polite--at first," pleaded John.

"Hook it now, anyway," said