no place for me, but before I had made up my mind where I would go the
Warden came out of his house and saw me before I saw him.

"Good-morning, Mr. Marten," he said before I could escape; "it is so
unusual to find a beautiful quadrangle totally uninhabited that you
seem to be undecided whether to leave it or not. Your whistle as I
stood by the open window of my bedroom suggested to me that you are not
employing your time most advantageously either to yourself or to
others."

He stood by me for a moment, and then moving on with his peculiar
shuffle disappeared through the doorway leading into the college
gardens. My nerves were becoming upset from these constant encounters,
and as I felt that I could not sit down and work until I had some kind
of an antidote, I went up to see Jack Ward, who had rooms in the front
quadrangle.

I found him, as I thought, most beautifully unemployed, but as soon as
he had asked me whether my temper was better in the morning than at
night, of which remark I took no notice, he said that he was being
worried to death.

There were two telegrams lying on his table, and I thought something
awful had happened to his people, so I tried to look sympathetic and
replied that if he would rather be left alone I would go at once. Then
he broke forth into the language of towing-paths and barges and asked
me whether I was a lunatic, which was a fairly nasty question when I
thought I was treating his trouble in a becoming spirit. I was not,
however, sure what was the matter with him, so I did not say what I
might have said but asked him to tell me why he was bothered.

"You see it is like this," he answered, picking up both the telegrams;
"one of our groom fellows at home has a brother who knows everything
about Blackmore's stable, and he has just wired to me that Dainty Dick
will win the Flying Welter at Hurst Park to-day, and I was off to back
it when I get a wire from my tipster, Tom Webb, that The Philosopher
can't lose the same race. It is Tom's 'double nap' and I am in a hole
what to do."

As I had never heard before of Dainty Dick, The Philosopher, Tom Webb
or Blackmore, I did not feel in a position to give advice, but I
laughed until I felt quite unwell, and Ward walked about the room
asking violently why I was amused.

"I thought some of your people were ill when I came in here," I said
after some minutes, "and the whole thing turns out to be some gibberish
nonsense about Tom Webb, a