Mike

At breakfast that morning he was silent and apparently wrapped in thought.  Mr. Downing, who sat at the top of the table with Adair on his right, was accustomed at the morning meal to blend nourishment of the body with that of the mind.  As a rule he had ten minutes with the daily paper before the bell rang, and it was his practice to hand on the results of his reading to Adair and the other house-prefects, who, not having seen the paper, usually formed an interested and appreciative audience.  To-day, however, though the house-prefects expressed varying degrees of excitement at the news that Tyldesley had made a century against Gloucestershire, and that a butter famine was expected in the United States, these world-shaking news-items seemed to leave Adair cold.  He champed his bread and marmalade with an abstracted air.

He was wondering what to do in this matter of Stone and Robinson.

Many captains might have passed the thing over.  To take it for granted that the missing pair had overslept themselves would have been a safe and convenient way out of the difficulty.  But Adair was not the sort of person who seeks for safe and convenient ways out of difficulties.  He never shirked anything, physical or moral.

He resolved to interview the absentees.

It was not until after school that an opportunity offered itself.  He went across to Outwood’s and found the two non-starters in the senior day-room, engaged in the intellectual pursuit of kicking the wall and marking the height of each kick with chalk.  Adair’s entrance coincided with a record effort by Stone, which caused the kicker to overbalance and stagger backwards against the captain.

“Sorry,” said Stone.  “Hullo, Adair!”

“Don’t mention it.  Why weren’t you two at fielding-practice this morning?”

Robinson, who left the lead to Stone in all matters, said nothing.  Stone spoke.

“We didn’t turn up,” he said.

“I know you didn’t.  Why not?”

Stone had rehearsed this scene in his mind, and he spoke with the coolness which comes from rehearsal.

“We decided not to.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.  We came to the conclusion that we hadn’t any use for early-morning fielding.”

Adair’s manner became ominously calm.

“You were rather fed-up, I suppose?”

“That’s just the word.”

“Sorry it bored you.”

“It didn’t.  We didn’t give it the chance to.”

Robinson laughed appreciatively.

“What’s the joke, Robinson?” asked Adair.

“There’s no joke,” said Robinson, with some haste.  “I was only thinking of something.”

“I’ll give you something else to think about soon.”

Stone intervened.

“It’s no good making a row about it, Adair.  You must see that you can’t do anything.  Of course, you can kick us out of the team, if you like, but we don’t care if you do.  Jackson will get us a game any Wednesday or Saturday for the village he plays for.  So we’re all right.  And the school team aren’t such a lot of flyers that you can afford to go chucking people out of it whenever you want to.  See what I mean?”

“You and Jackson seem to have fixed it all up between you.”

“What are you going to do?  Kick us out?”

“No.”

“Good.  I thought you’d see it was no good making a beastly row.  We’ll play for the school all right.  There’s no earthly need for us to turn out for fielding-practice before breakfast.”

“You don’t think there is?  You may be right.  All the same, you’re going to to-morrow morning.”

“What!”

“Six sharp.  Don’t be late.”

“Don’t be an ass, Adair.  We’ve told you we aren’t going to.”

“That’s only your opinion.  I think you are.  I’ll give you till five past six, as you seem to like lying in bed.”

“You can turn out if you feel like it.  You won’t find me there.”

“That’ll be a disappointment.  Nor Robinson?”

“No,” said the junior partner in the firm; but he said it without any deep conviction.  The atmosphere was growing a great deal too tense for his comfort.

“You’ve quite made up your minds?”

“Yes,” said Stone.

“Right,” said Adair quietly, and knocked him down.

He was up again in a moment.  Adair had pushed the table back, and was standing in the middle of the open space.

“You cad,” said Stone.  “I wasn’t ready.”

“Well, you are now.  Shall we go on?”

Stone dashed in without a word, and for a few moments the two might have seemed evenly matched to a not too intelligent spectator.  But science tells, even in a confined space.  Adair was smaller and lighter than Stone, but he was cooler and quicker, and he knew more about the game.  His blow was always home a fraction of a second sooner than his opponent’s.  At the end of a minute Stone was on the floor again.

He got up slowly and stood leaning with one hand on the table.

“Suppose we say ten past six?” said Adair.  “I’m not particular to a minute or two.”

Stone made no reply.

“Will ten past six suit you for fielding-practice to-morrow?” said Adair.

“All right,” said Stone.

“Thanks.  How about you, Robinson?”