The first I heard of this affair was a volley of gravel on my window at
dead of night. Then came Uvo Delavoye's voice through the fog before I
quite knew what I was doing at the open window. Colonel Cheffins lived
in the house opposite the Delavoyes', where he had lately started a
cramming establishment on a small scale; and on his rushing over the
road to the rescue, at the first sound of the fusillade, poor Uvo had
himself been under fire in the fog. The good colonel was in a great way
about it, I gathered, although no harm had been done, and it was only
one of the pupils who had loosed off in his excitement. But would I care
to come along and inspect the damage then and there? If so, they would
be glad to see me, and as yet there was whisky for all comers.

I turned out instantly in my dressing-gown and slippers, found Uvo
shivering in his, and raced him to the scene. It took some finding in
the fog, until the lighted hall flashed upon us like a dark lantern at
arm's length. In the class room at the back of the house, round the gas
fire which obtained in all our houses, pedagogue and pupils were still
telling their tale by turns and in chaotic chorus. Their audience was
smaller than I expected. A little knot of unsporting tenants seemed more
disposed to complain of the disturbance than to take up the chase; but
indeed that was hopeless in the fog and darkness, and before long Uvo
and I were the only interlopers left. We remained by special invitation,
for I had made friends with the colonel over the papering and painting
of his house, while Uvo had just shown himself a would-be friend indeed.

"It's a very easy battle to reconstruct," said the crammer at the foot
of his stairs. "I was up there on the landing when I took my first shot
at the scoundrels. You'll find it in the lower part of the front door.
One of them blazed back, and there's the hole in the landing window. I
had last word from the mat, and I've been looking for it in the gate,
but I begin to hope we may find a drop or two of their blood instead
to-morrow morning."

Colonel Cheffins was a little bald man with a tooth-brush moustache, and
bright eyes that danced with frank delight in the whole adventure. He
looked every inch the old soldier, even in a Jaeger suit of bedroom
overalls, and I vastly preferred him to his two young men; but
scholastic connections are not formed by picking and choosing your
original material. Delavoye and I, however, made as