king. It is a
joke--for the other fellow."

"Did some one do that to you?" asked John.

"Yes; a big lout in the Third Fifth," Scaife smiled grimly.

"And what did you do?"

"I waited for him next day with a cricket stump. There was an awful
row, because I let him have it a bit too hard; but I've not been shut
up since. That bed is a beast. It collapses." He chuckled. "Young
Kinloch won't find it quite as soft as the ones at White Ladies. Well,
like the rest of us, he'll have to take Dirty Dick's as he finds it."

The bolt had fallen.

John asked in a quavering voice, "Then it _is_ called that?"

"Called what?"

"This house. Dirty Dick's!"

Scaife smiled cynically. He looked about a year older than John, but
he had the air and manners of a man of the world--so John thought.
Also, he was very good-looking, handsomer than Desmond, and in striking
contrast to that smiling, genial youth, being dark, almost swarthy of
complexion, with strongly-marked features and rather coarse hands and
feet.

"Everybody here calls it Dirty Dick's," he replied curtly.

John stared helplessly.

"But," he muttered, "I heard, I was told, that the Manor was the best
house in the school."

"It used to be," Scaife answered. "To-day, it comes jolly near being
the worst. The fellows in other houses are decent; they don't rub it
in; but, between ourselves, the Manor has gone to pot ever since Dirty
Dick took hold of it. Damer's is the swell house now."

John began to unstrap his portmanteau. Scaife puzzled him. For
instance, he displayed no curiosity. He did not put the questions
always asked at a Preparatory School. Without turning his thought into
words, John divined that at Harrow it was bad form to ask questions.
As he wanted to ask a question, a very important question, this
enforced silence became exasperating.

Presently Scaife said, "I suppose you are one of the Claydon lot."

"No; my home is in the New Forest. My uncle is Verney of Verney
Boscobel."

"Oh! his name is on the panels at the head of the staircase; and it's
carved on a bed in the next room."

"Crikey! I must go and look at it."

"You can look at the panels, of course; but don't say 'Crikey!' and
don't go into the next room. Two Fifth Form fellows have it. It would
be infernal cheek."

John hoped that Scaife would offer to accompany him to the panels.
Then he went alone. It being now within half an hour of lock-up, the
passages were s