But he's
not likely to meet me half-way. And if he doesn't there'll be an
interesting turn-up, and you shall hold the watch. I'll send a kid
round to fetch you when things look like starting. I must go now to
interview my missing men. So long. Mind you slip round directly I send
for you."
"Wait a second. Don't be in such a beastly hurry. Who's the chap
you're going to fight?"
"I don't know yet. Walton, I should think. But I don't know."
"Walton! By Jove, it'll be worth seeing, anyhow, if we _are_ both
sacked for it when the Old Man finds out."
Kennedy returned to his study and changed his football boots for a
pair of gymnasium shoes. For the job he had in hand it was necessary
that he should move quickly, and football boots are a nuisance on a
board floor. When he had changed, he called Spencer.
"Go down to the senior dayroom," he said, "and tell MacPherson I want
to see him."
MacPherson was a long, weak-looking youth. He had been put down to
play for the house that day, and had not appeared.
"MacPherson!" said the fag, in a tone of astonishment, "not Walton?"
He had been looking forward to the meeting between Kennedy and his
ancient foe, and to have a miserable being like MacPherson offered as
a substitute disgusted him.
"If you have no objection," said Kennedy, politely, "I may want you to
fetch Walton later on.
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