"That's for him to decide. Speaking at a venture, I should say"
"You don't think?"
"The boot. The swift and sudden boot. I shall be sorry to part with you, but I'm afraid it's a case of 'Au revoir, my little Hyacinth.' We shall meet at Philippi. This is my Moscow. To-morrow I shall go out into the night with one long, choking sob. Years hence a whitehaired bank-clerk will tap at your door when you're a prosperous professional cricketer with your photograph in Wisden. That'll be me. Well, I suppose I'd better go down. We'd better all get to bed some time to-night. Don't go to sleep."
"Not likely."
"I'll tell you all the latest news when I come back. Where are me slippers? Ha, 'tis well! Lead on, then, minions. I follow."
In the study Mr. Wain was fumbling restlessly with his papers when Wyatt appeared.
"Sit down, James," he said.
Wyatt sat down. One of his slippers fell off with a clatter. Mr. Wain jumped nervously.
"Only my slipper," explained Wyatt. "It slipped."
Mr. Wain took up a pen, and began to tap the table.
"Well, James?"
Wyatt said nothing.
"I should be glad to hear your explanation of this disgraceful matter."
"The fact is" said Wyatt.
"Well?"
"I haven't one, sir."
"What were you doing out of your dormitory, out of the house, at that hour?"
"I went for a walk, sir."
"And, may I inquire, are you in the habit of violating the strictest school rules by absenting yourself from the house during the night?"
"Yes, sir."
