'Well, I do,' said Beetle. 'It'll be my last issue, and I'd like it to look decent. I'll catch him before he goes to his lunch.'
Ten minutes later they wheeled out in line, by grace released from five o'clock call-over, and all the afternoon lay before them. So also unluckily did King, who never passed without witticisms. But brigades of Kings could not have ruffled Beetle that day.
'Aha! Enjoying the study of light literature, my friends,' said he, rubbing his hands. 'Common mathematics are not for such soaring minds as yours, are they?'
('One hundred a year,' thought Beetle, smiling into vacancy.)
'Our open incompetence takes refuge in the flowery paths of inaccurate fiction. But a day of reckoning approaches, Beetle mine. I myself have prepared a few trifling foolish questions in Latin prose which can hardly be evaded even by your practised arts of deception. Ye-es, Latin prose. I think, if I may say so but we shall see when the papers are set—"Ulpian serves your need." "Aha! Elucescebat, quoth our friend," We shall see! We shall see!'
Still no sign from Beetle. He was on a steamer, his passage paid into the wide and wonderful world a thousand leagues beyond Lundy Island.
King dropped him with a snarl.
'He doesn't know. He'll go on correctin' exercises an' jawin' an' showin' off before the little boys next term—and next.' Beetle hurried after
