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Updated: May 18, 2025
Damer's played collectively; the Manorites rather waited upon the individual. When Scaife's chance came, so it was predicted, he would go through the Damer's centre as irresistibly as a Russian battleship cuts through a fleet of fishing-smacks. Rutford being absent, Dumbleton, the butler, stood well to the fore.
But to mere outsiders, like myself, a beast of beasts; ay, the very king of beasts, is Dirty Dick." And then oh, horrors! the door of No. 15 opened, and Rutford appeared, followed by a seemingly young and very fashionably dressed lady. The boys jumped to their feet. All, except Scaife, looked preternaturally solemn. The house-master nodded carelessly.
Only the week before Rutford had come up to the Yard late for Bill, he being the master whose turn it was to call over. Such tardiness, which happens seldom, is reckoned as an unpardonable sin by Harrow boys. Briefly it means that six hundred suffer from the unpunctuality of one.
John knew well enough that he might be called upon to lie also, to save not himself, but Scaife. If he held his tongue and refused to answer questions, Rutford would assume, and with reason, that Scaife had been made drunk by the Fifth Form fellows. Then John said quietly, "I am not a liar, sir." "Certainly, I have never detected you in a lie," said Rutford.
In the Manor itself Warde's influence was hardly yet perceptible: only a very few knew that it was diffusing itself, percolating into nooks and crevices, undreamed of: the hearts of the Fourth Form, for instance. In Dirty Dick's time there had been almost universal slackness. In pupil-room, Rutford read a book; boys could work or not as they pleased, provided their tutor was not disturbed.
The Head of the House eyed him sharply. "Kinloch?" No answer. "Kinloch?" Scaife answered dryly: "Kinloch's portmanteau has come." Then Dumbleton said in his smooth, bland voice, "His lordship is in the drawing-room with Mr. Rutford." The boys exchanged knowing glances. Scaife looked contemptuous. The next moment the last name had been called, and the boys scurried into the passages.
"Anybody else, Lovell? Be careful how you answer me!" "Nobody else," said Lovell. "On your honour, sir?" "On my honour, sir." And, later, all Manorites declared that Lovell had lied like a gentleman. Rutford and he stared at each other, the boy pale, but self-possessed, the big burly man flushed and ill at ease. "You will all go to my study. A word with you, Lawrence." The boys filed quietly out.
It being now within half an hour of lock-up, the passages were swarming with boys. Soon John would see them assembled in Hall, where their names would be called over by Rutford. Everybody John had been told was expected to be present at this first call-over, except a few boys who might be coming from a distance.
"But he stopped laughing when I gave him Trieve's message, and then he said what Lovell told you, sir." "Never mind what Lovell told me. Give me your version of the story." "Scaife asked the other fellows if Trieve had any right to fag him, now that he had got his 'fez. If he had been drunk, sir, he wouldn't have thought of that, would he?" "Um," said Rutford, slightly shaken.
"All the same," continued John, in a hesitating manner, "I would lie, if I thought a lie might save a friend's life." Rutford was so unprepared for this deliberate statement, that he could only reply "Oh, you would, would you?" "Yes," said John; then he added, "Any decent boy or man would." "Oh! Oh, indeed! This is very interesting. Go on, Verney."
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