Total L14 6 0
A Remittance will oblige.

"What," said Brown, after a dead pause, and with eyes that seemed
slowly rising out of his head, "What in heaven's name is this?"

"What is it?" repeated Northover, cocking his eyebrow with
amusement. "It's your account, of course."

"My account!" The Major's ideas appeared to be in a vague stampede.
"My account! And what have I got to do with it?"

"Well," said Northover, laughing outright, "naturally I prefer you
to pay it."

The Major's hand was still resting on the back of the chair as the
words came. He scarcely stirred otherwise, but he lifted the chair
bodily into the air with one hand and hurled it at Northover's
head.

The legs crashed against the desk, so that Northover only got a
blow on the elbow as he sprang up with clenched fists, only to be
seized by the united rush of the rest of us. The chair had fallen
clattering on the empty floor.

"Let me go, you scamps," he shouted. "Let me--"

"Stand still," cried Rupert authoritatively. "Major Brown's action
is excusable. The abominable crime you have attempted--"