"The Gazeka is a fool."
"All front teeth and side. Still, he's on the spot. But what's the good of worrying. It's nothing to do with us, anyhow. Let's stagger out, shall we?"
Trevor's conscientious nature, however, made it impossible for him to drop the matter. It disturbed him all the time that he and Clowes were on the river; and, walking back to the house, he resolved to see Bob about it during preparation.
He found him in his study, oiling a bat.
"I say, Bob," he said, "look here. Are you busy?"
"No. Why?"
"It's this way. Clowes and I were talking"
"If Clowes was there he was probably talking. Well?"
"About your brother."
"Oh, by Jove," said Bob, sitting up. "That reminds me. I forgot to get the evening paper. Did he get his century all right?"
"Who?" asked Trevor, bewildered.
"My brother, J. W. He'd made sixty-three not out against Kent in this morning's paper. What happened?"
"I didn't get a paper either. I didn't mean that brother. I meant the one here."
"Oh, Mike? What's Mike been up to?"
"Nothing as yet, that I know of; but, I say, you know, he seems a great pal of Wyatt's."
"I know. I spoke to him about it."
"Oh, you did? That's all right, then."
"Not that there's anything wrong with Wyatt."
"Not a bit. Only he is rather mucking about this term, I hear. It's his last, so I suppose he wants to have a rag."
"Don't blame him."
"Nor do I. Rather rot, though, if he lugged your brother into a row by accident."
"I should get blamed. I think I'll speak to him again."
