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