are doing here?'

'Well, hang it all, old chap--'

The Bishop begged that Monk would not call him 'old chap'.

'I'll call you "sir", if you like,' said Monk.

A gleam of hope appeared in the Bishop's eye. Monk was going to give
him the opportunity he had long sighed for. In cold blood he could
attack no one, not even Monk, but if he was going to be rude, that
altered matters.

'What business have you in the day-room?' he said. 'You've got studies
of your own.'

'If it comes to that,' said Monk, 'so have you. We've got as much
business here as you. What the deuce are you doing here?'

Taken by itself, taken neat, as it were, this repartee might have been
insufficient to act as a _casus belli_, but by a merciful
dispensation of Providence the senior day-room elected to laugh at the
remark, and to laugh loudly. Monk also laughed. Not, however, for long.
The next moment the Bishop had darted in, knocked his feet from under
him, and dragged him to the door. Captain Kettle himself could not have
done it more neatly.

'Now,' said the Bishop, 'we can discuss the point.'

Monk got up, looking greener than usual, and began to dust his clothes.