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Updated: June 22, 2025
The Head turned to Radley, who answered with a snap: "Yes, he's plenty of courage; and what's better, he's easily shamed." "Bless me, are you any good whatever at games?" continued the weary catechist. "I can swim a bit, but I'm not much good at anything else." "As he says, he swims a bit," corroborated Fillet. "But I don't know what else he can do."
And, while great internal sobs shook my frame with the regularity of minute-guns, Radley spoke so nicely that I determined I would be everything he wanted, a really beautiful character always providing that it didn't interfere with my war with Fillet. For one day one great and distant day I would terribly overthrow that little old pantaloon.
It was this fatuous remark which showed Radley that I had no idea of my own relation to the coming conflict. So he forbore to spring upon me the greatest surprise of all. He just said with a sadness and a strange emphasis: "Well, good-bye, and the best of luck. Make the most of your holiday. There are great times in front of you."
And, if that last dogma of his be not Heaven's truth, then my outlook on life is all wrong, and this book's a failure! As Radley placed his muscular frame in the deck-chair, Chappy greeted him with these regrettable remarks: "Hallo, Radley, aren't you dead yet? How the devil are you? My word, how you've grown!" The match started, Doe and our captain opening the Kensingtowe innings.
But it was a sorry performance, and Radley put up over two hundred. Fernhurst went in again; and that day Gordon and Lovelace were sent in first. It was an amazing performance. Gordon's cricket was, in honest fact, one of the biggest frauds that had ever been inflicted on an opposing side.
The silence spoke of the importance of the moment; Lancaster, our captain, was measuring himself with Radley. He took his long run and bowled. Radley, with little apparent effort, drove the ball out of the net-mouth to the far end of the field, and re-commenced attending to his bat-handle. "Oh, the full-blooded villain!" exclaimed Penny. Someone handed Honion another ball, and he bowled.
Radley, of the Adelphi Hotel are peculiarly calculated to suffer a sea-change; or whether a plain mutton-chop, and a glass or two of sherry, would be less likely of conversion into foreign and disconcerting material.
Suddenly disconcerted, I heard the door slam, and found that Radley was face to face with me. My breast went up and down with uncontrollable temper, while my wrist, all red and white with the marks of powerful fingers, felt as if it were broken. "Where were you going?" he demanded, his hard mouth set. "To Mr. Fillet's study," I snapped, purposely omitting the "sir." "What for?"
And, such is the result of trifling with conscience, I had lost the knack of doing right without premeditation. "We must have time to think," Radley had said bitterly, "or else we lie." Obliged to answer without delay, I lied. "I hadn't time, sir." No sooner had I uttered the words than the dull and sickening sense of failure came over me.
Within Radley's spacious class-room some twenty of us took our way to our desks. Radley mounted his low platform, and, resting his knuckles on his writing-table, gazed down upon us. He was a man of over six feet, with the shoulders, chest, and waist of a forcing batsman.
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