But today things of greater moment than the Sports occupied his mind.
He had news. He had great news. He was bursting with news, and he
hailed the approach of Tony and Welch with pleasure. With any other
leading light of the School he might have felt less at ease, but with
Tony it was different. When you have underdone a fellow's eggs and
overdone his toast and eaten the remainder for a term or two, you begin
to feel that mere social distinctions and differences of age no longer
form a barrier.

Besides, he had news which was absolutely fresh, news to which no one
could say pityingly: 'What! Have you only just heard _that_!'

'Hullo, Graham,' he said. 'Have you come back?' Tony admitted that he
had. 'Jolly good for getting the Middles.' (A telegram had, of course,
preceded Tony.) 'I say, Graham, do you know what's happened? There'll
be an awful row about it. Someone's been and broken into the Pav.'

'Rot! How do you know?'

'There's a pane taken clean out. I booked it in a second as I was going
past to the track.'

'Which room?'

'First Fifteen. The window facing away from the Houses.'

'That's rum,' said Welch. 'Wonder what a burglar wanted in the First
room. Isn't even a hair-brush there generally.'

Robinson's eyes dilated with honest pride. This was good. This was