ting him steadily for a
moment. "After all, you only count as one. That's why I've called the
Form, who count a good deal more, so that they could give their opinion.
Whatever their opinion is, I'll stand to it."

"You will!" cried Newall. "That's all I want. I know well enough they
won't let Moncrief wriggle out of it."

"How do you make out that the quarrel has shifted from Moncrief to you,
Percival?" demanded Hasluck. "I can't quite see it."

More murmurs of assent.

"I think you will when I've finished," said Paul confidently. "Newall
doesn't see it, naturally, but I think you will. This is how things
stand. Newall made me believe that he was sorry for the quarrel that had
taken place between him and Moncrief. On that I tried to do the right
thing. I got Moncrief to go up to him and offer him his hand. I was
never more disgusted in my life. Newall pretended not to see it, and
said insulting things, which I need not repeat. What I say is, that when
he refused to take Moncrief's hand, he insulted me more than he insulted
Moncrief; for it was I who brought Moncrief to him, and it was through
me Moncrief offered him his hand. That is the first point I wish the
Form to decide."

Paul spoke so earnestly that he carried the Form with him. It appealed
to their sense of chivalry. Percival had tried to make peace between
Newall and Moncrief. Failing that, he had turned the quarrel from his
friend's shoulders to his own.

First one, then the other, supported Paul, and though there was a small
minority against him, there was no question as to the majority.

"We think Percival right," said Hasluck--an announcement which was
received with cheers.

"That only means that the quarrel is between me and Percival," said
Newall grimly. "I've no objection. I'm not going to kick against the
decision of the Form." Then, turning to Paul: "You've got to pay me back
the blow I had from Moncrief. P'raps the Form 'll decide when it's to
be."

"You mean fighting?"

"What else should I mean?"

"I don't. We don't want to waste our energies that way when there's a
much better way and better work to do."

"Trying to crawl out of it again," came in a sneering aside from
Parfitt. "Was there ever such a wriggler?"

"Let's hear the better way," said Hasluck; and there were many others in
the Form, in spite of the sneering remark of Parfitt, who were equally
anxious to hear what "the better way" could be.

"There's a shadow resting upo