"I told him that if he did it again I should throw Stubbs' Charters at
his head," I replied in self-defence.

"But, don't you see, Lambert would never hit me on the back. He is one
of the most gorgeous slopers we have got, and twangs his banjo for
Dennison to sing what they call erotic ballads. You've not got enough
dignity."

"Steady on," I said, for with too much of one thing and not enough of
another I was beginning to think that it was about time for him to
discover something of which I had the proper amount.

"Don't get angry," he returned, "I only meant to explain why your shot
to buck the college up failed. You're too popular, that's it."

I spoke plainly to him.

"It's no use talking like that," he went on; "say you'll help me, and
we'll have a go at squashing this ragging lot. It wouldn't matter so
much if they could do anything decently, but they are the very men who
ought to go and bury themselves because they won't try to do anything.
Let us do something first and then have a good wholesome rag, but for
heaven's sake let us shut up until we have done it."

Jack had only just left my rooms when, as if to prove what he had said,
Lambert strolled in and asked me if I would let him have lunch with me.
My table-cloth was laid and I couldn't tell him that I was lunching
out, so I told him that Murray was coming. He replied that he liked
Murray, and since that had failed I said that I was going to play
footer and had very little time, but he answered that he would not be
able to stay for more than half-an-hour. Meals with Lambert were apt
to get less simple as they went on, for he had a habit of saying that
he wanted nothing and then of demanding port with his cheese and
liqueurs to save him from indigestion, but I could not get rid of him,
so apart from making up my mind that his luncheon should be as short as
possible, I left him alone.

He read the paper for a few minutes and then asked me if I did not like
his waistcoat. It looked to me like some new kind of puzzle, so I
asked him if he had the answer in his pocket, but he was looking at it
thoughtfully and did not answer.

"Nice shade, isn't it?" he said presently.

I thought that there was more glare than shade about it and told him so.

"It's unique," he declared, and at last I was able to agree with him.

"Have you called on that man Thornton?" he asked, and stood up so that
he could see his waistcoat and himself in the glass.

"I ne