"Then why can't you say so?" said the presiding magistrate.

Parsons was bound over.

He came for his luggage while every one was in the shop, and Garvace
would not let him invade the business to say good-by. When Mr. Polly
went upstairs for margarine and bread and tea, he slipped on into the
dormitory at once to see what was happening further in the Parsons
case. But Parsons had vanished. There was no Parsons, no trace of
Parsons. His cubicle was swept and garnished. For the first time in
his life Polly had a sense of irreparable loss.

A minute or so after Platt dashed in.

"Ugh!" he said, and then discovered Polly. Polly was leaning out of
the window and did not look around. Platt went up to him.

"He's gone already," said Platt. "Might have stopped to say good-by to
a chap."

There was a little pause before Polly replied. He thrust his finger
into his mouth and gulped.

"Bit on that beastly tooth of mine," he said, still not looking at
Platt. "It's made my eyes water, something chronic. Any one might
think I'd been doing a blooming Pipe, by the look of me."