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‘Sorry,’ said Charteris hastily. ‘Hullo!’

It was the secretary of the Old Crockfordians, and, to judge from the scowl on that gentleman’s face, the recognition was mutual.

‘It’s you, is it?’ said the secretary in his polished way.

‘I believe so,’ said Charteris.

‘Out of bounds,’ observed the man.

Charteris was surprised. This grasp of technical lore on the part of a total outsider was as unexpected as it was gratifying.

‘What do you know about bounds?’ said Charteris.

‘I know you ain’t allowed to come ‘ere, and you’ll get it ‘ot from your master for coming.’

‘Ah, but he won’t know. I shan’t tell him, and I’m sure you will respect my secret.’

Charteris smiled in a winning manner.

‘Ho!’ said the man, ‘Ho indeed!’

There is something very clinching about the word ‘Ho’. It seems definitely to apply the closure to any argument. At least, I have never yet met anyone who could tell me the suitable repartee.

‘Well,’ said Charteris affably, ‘don’t let me keep you. I must be going on.’

‘Ho!’ observed the man once more. ‘Ho indeed!’

‘That’s a wonderfully shrewd remark,’ said Charteris. ‘I can see that, but I wish you’d tell me exactly what it means.’

‘You’re out of bounds.’

‘Your mind seems to run in a groove. You can’t get off that bounds business. How do you know Stapleton’s out of bounds?’

‘I have made enquiries,’ said the man darkly.

‘By Jove,’ said Charteris delightedly, ‘this is splendid. You’re a regular sleuth-hound. I dare say you’ve found out my name and House too?’

‘I may ‘ave,’ said the man, ‘or I may not ‘ave.’

‘Well, now you mention it, I suppose one of the two contingencies is probable. Well, I’m awfully glad to have met you. Good-bye. I must be going.’

‘You’re goin’ with me.’

‘Arm in arm?’

‘I don’t want to ‘ave to take you.’

‘No,’ said Charteris, ‘I should jolly well advise you not to try. This is my way.’

He walked on till he came to the road that led to St Austin’s. The secretary of the Old Crockfordians stalked beside him with determined stride.

‘Now,’ said Charteris, when they were on the road, ‘you mustn’t mind if I walk rather fast. I’m in a hurry.’

Charteris’s idea of walking rather fast was to dash off down the road at quarter-mile pace. The move took the man by surprise, but, after a moment, he followed with much panting. It was evident that he was not in training. Charteris began to feel that the walk home might be amusing in its way. After they had raced some three hundred yards he slowed down to a walk again. It was at this point that his companion evinced a desire to do the rest of the journey with a hand on the collar of his coat.

‘If you touch me,’ observed Charteris with a surprising knowledge of legal minutiae, ‘it’ll be a technical assault, and you’ll get run in; and you’ll get beans anyway if you try it on.’

The man reconsidered matters, and elected not to try it on.

Half a mile from the College Charteris began to walk rather fast again. He was a good half-miler, and his companion was bad at every distance. After a game struggle he dropped to the rear, and finished a hundred yards behind in considerable straits. Charteris shot in at Merevale’s door with five minutes to spare, and went up to his study to worry Welch by telling him about it.

‘Welch, you remember the Bargee who scragged Tony? Well, there have been all sorts of fresh developments. He’s just been pacing me all the way from Stapleton.’

‘Stapleton! Have you been to Stapleton? Did Merevale give you leave?’

‘No. I didn’t ask him.’

‘You are an idiot. And now this Bargee man will go straight to the Old Man and run you in. I wonder you didn’t think of that.’

‘Curious I didn’t.’

‘I suppose he saw you come in here?’

‘Rather. He couldn’t have had a better view if he’d paid for a seat. Half a second; I must just run up with these volumes to Tony.’