esmond told John that the Demon had spent a riotous night in town. He
had slipped out of the Manor after prayers, had driven up to a certain
club in Regent Street, returned in time for first school, fresh as
paint--so Desmond said--and then, not content with such an achievement,
must needs brag of it to Desmond.

"And if he's nailed, Eton wins," concluded Desmond. "I've told you,
because together we must put a stop to such larks."

John slightly raised his thick eyebrows. It was curious that Caesar
always chose to ignore the hatred which he must have known to exist
between his two friends. Or did he fatuously believe that, because John
exercised an influence over himself, the same influence would or could
be exercised over Scaife?

"We?" said John.

"I've tried and failed. But together, I say----"

"I shan't interfere, Caesar."

"Jonathan, you must."

"It would be a fool's errand."

"We three have gone up the School together. You have never been fair to
Scaife. I tell you he's sound at core. Why, after he was swished----"

Desmond told John what had passed; John shook his head. He could
understand better than any one else why Scaife had broken down.

"He has splendid ambitions," pursued Desmond. "He's going to be a great
soldier, you see. He thinks of nothing else. You never have liked him,
but because of that I thought you would do what you could."

The disappointment and chagrin in his voice shook John's resolution.

"To please you, I'll try."

And accordingly the absurd experiment was made. Afterwards, John asked
himself a thousand times why he had not foreseen the inevitable result.
But the explanation is almost too simple to be recorded: he wished to
convince a friend that he would attempt anything to prove his
friendship.

That night they went together to Scaife's room. The second-best room in
the Manor, situated upon the first floor, it overlooked the back of the
garden, where there was a tangled thicket of laurustinus and
rhododendron. Scaife had spent much money in making this room as
comfortable as possible. It had the appearance of a man's room, and
presented all the characteristics of the man who lived in it. Everything
connected with Scaife's triumphal march through the School was
preserved. On the walls were his caps, fezes, and cups. You could hardly
see the paper for the framed photographs of Scaife and his fellow
"bloods." Scaife as cricketer, Scaife as football-player, Scaife as
racqu