n the other side of the road the surprised
gaze of Radley.

It was a very awkward recognition, and I hope he felt half as
uncomfortable as I did. I pinched Penny's arm and hurried him on
quickly.

"Don't push me," he grumbled. "The damage is done. And it's all your
fault for leading me astray. Radley'll tell. He never spares anyone;
least of all, his pets, like you. There's one comfort; I can't be
whacked; I'm too old. But you'll get it, Rupert. Salome's already
done several of the sixteen-year-olds. Cheer up, Rupert!"

"Hang you, I don't want your sympathy," I retorted sullenly. And as
I said it, I passed through Kensingtowe's gates to the punishment
that awaited me within.

Sec.3

We were not summoned for judgment for several uneasy hours. It was
dreary, waiting. About six o'clock I paid a lonesome visit to the
swimming baths, and was glad to find them deserted. Even Jerry
Brisket, the professional instructor, was not in his little private
room. Jerry Brisket, that supreme swimmer, loomed as an heroic
figure to me who fancied myself no common devotee of his art. I had
often thought that my ideal would be to build a private swimming
bath and to employ Jerry at a salary of some thousands as my own
particular coach. But to-night, in spite of this lavish worship, I
was relieved to find him absent. I flung off my clothes and took a
long, splashless dive into the shallow end.

Water was my favourite element, especially the clear, green water of
the baths. I loved to feel that it was covering every part of my
body. With my breast nearly touching the tiled bottom, I swam under
water for a long spell. And, moving down there, like a young eel, I
compared this dip with that in the beautiful Fal of a year ago.
Certainly there was still pleasure, glorious pleasure, in complete
submersion, but on that bejewelled day there was joy above as well
as below the surface. This evening all that awaited me, when I rose
from the transparent water, was punishment and indignity.

"Hang it," I said to myself. "I think I'll stay in the baths. They
can't dive after me here."

With the unreasonableness of guilt I stigmatised all those plotting
my hurt as "they." I did not specialise individuals, possibly
because Radley was one. They were "they"--a contemptible "they."

"They are brutes," I concluded, "and I don't care a hang for any of
them."

Then, in the luxury of defiance, I swam my fastest and most furious
racing-stroke, till