rumour," etc. Travers had taken the precaution of confiding in no one as to his intentions. Thus the source of Dr. Peter's information was obvious.
The men of St. Joseph's were normal men, broad of mind and brawny of muscle; they had, however, their code, and it was this code that Graves had violated. Tom Little had expressed the general view of the college when he said that Graves ought to be soundly kicked and sent down.
"Now, Bindle," remarked Dick Little, "you're a man of ideas: what's to be done with Gravy?"
"Well, sir, that depends on exes. It costs money to do most things in this world, and it'll cost money to make Mr. Gravy stew in his own juice."
"How much?"
"Might cost"—Bindle paused to think—"might cost a matter of twenty or thirty quid to do it in style."
"Right-oh! Out with it, my merry Bindle," cried Tom Little. "Travers and Guggers alone would pay up for a good rag, but it must be top-hole, mind."
"Yes," said Bindle, with a grin; "it 'ud be top-'ole right enough." And Bindle's grin expanded.
"Out with it, man," cried Dick Little. "Don't you see we're aching to hear?"
