the beginning of the holidays, and had been, on the whole, fairly
decent--nothing startling either way. Mr Downing, perhaps through
remorse at having harried Mike to such an extent during the Sammy
episode, had exercised a studied moderation in his remarks. He had let
Mike down far more easily than he really deserved. So it could not be a
report that was worrying Mr Jackson. And there was nothing else on his
conscience.

Bob made a break of sixteen, and ran out. Mike replaced his cue, and
walked to the study.

His father was sitting at the table. Except for the very important fact
that this time he felt that he could plead Not Guilty on every possible
charge, Mike was struck by the resemblance in the general arrangement
of the scene to that painful ten minutes at the end of the previous
holidays, when his father had announced his intention of taking him
away from Wrykyn and sending him to Sedleigh. The resemblance was
increased by the fact that, as Mike entered, Mr Jackson was kicking at
the waste-paper basket--a thing which with him was an infallible sign
of mental unrest.

'Sit down, Mike,' said Mr Jackson. 'How did you get on during the
week?'

'Topping. Only once out under double figures. And then I was run out.
Got a century against the Green Jackets, seventy-one against the
Incogs, and today I made ninety-eight on a beast of a wicket, and only
got out because some silly goat of a chap--'

He broke off. Mr Jackson did not seem to be attending. There was a