hauled him inside the doorway.
‘For heaven’s sake, Warden, don’t report me! It was only a rag,’ pleaded the victim. ‘I shall be sent down for certain if you report me.’
It was a woman’s voice, but, in the darkness of the passage, it was impossible to see the victim’s face. Students, organized by Deborah and Miss Mathers, were already stamping out and scattering the bonfire, which had almost burnt itself through.
‘Are you an Athelstan student?’ Mrs Bradley demanded.
‘Yes. My name’s Morris.’
‘Well, Miss Morris, you had better assist in taking down that monument,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘and you must report to me in my study in the morning.’
‘Yes, Warden.’
‘I shall require a full explanation.’
‘Yes, Warden.’
Mrs Bradley released her, and noted that the decontamination squad, as Laura named them afterwards, had been joined by the sturdy figure of her chauffeur George, who was directing operations in the best traditions of an ex-non-commissioned officer.
‘What happened to the police?’ asked Deborah, when, at midnight, she and Mrs Bradley, having made a last tour of inspection of bathrooms and lavatories, were seated before a small coal fire in Mrs Bradley’s sitting-room and were drinking more of Lulu’s coffee and were eating biscuits and cheese.
‘George was the police. He is a most intelligent man,’ responded George’s employer. ‘And now, I do hope you will be able to get some sleep, dear child.’
‘I feel half dead, so I’m sure I shall,’ replied Deborah.
‘Let us light one another to bed, then,’ said Mrs Bradley, picking up one of the candles. Deborah lifted the other and they tiptoed upstairs.
The rising bell was rung at seven o’clock. Breakfast, an informal meal spread over about an hour, began at a quarter to eight. The Warden and Sub-Warden breakfasted in their own sitting-rooms at eight, and by about eight- thirty the majority of the students had finished breakfast and had gone up to make their beds. By ten minutes to nine Miss Morris had not appeared at Mrs Bradley’s door. This did not surprise the Warden; she had her own reasons for being content to wait. She had been out at just after seven to inspect the remains of the bonfire, only to discover that George, aided by the odd-job man, whom he had pressed into service, had cleared up almost all traces of the incident. There might be rumours round the College of the goings-on at Athelstan on the first night of term; there was, Mrs Bradley noted gratefully, no evidence.
As she had no lectures to deliver that morning, she settled the household affairs in Athelstan, and then walked in the direction taken by the young men who had fled from the sound of George’s voice on the previous night. From Athelstan past the bakehouse ran a wide gravel path, which, skirting on one side the garages and on the other the gymnasium, the laundry and the engine-room, passed the Chief Engineer’s house and led into the lane which was bordered by the south wall of the College grounds.
‘Easy enough, madam,’ said George, joining her as she stood looking over the gate. ‘That was the way they came in, and that was the way they went out. Over the top.’
‘Yes. I wonder, George, who and what they were?’
‘Gentlemen from Wattsdown College, three miles over towards Wattsdown Hill, madam. They had a challenge by post from the young ladies, and accepted it.’
‘Ah, yes, of course,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘I have to thank you for your timely assistance, George. We had to scatter them somehow. It would never have done for me to have caught one of them. I should have been obliged to report him, and then the fat would have been in the fire.’
‘But I thought you
‘No, George, that was one of the young ladies. A very different matter, and one which I can deal with without troubling the Principal.’
The students lunched in their halls of residence at a quarter past one, and during the afternoon there were very few lectures until about half past four. Nobody turned up to interview Mrs Bradley after lunch, so she waited until tea-time and then sent Bella, the head servant, into the dining-room, to request that Miss Morris would favour the Warden with a visit as soon as she had finished her tea.
Not at all to Mrs Bradley’s surprise, a tall, thin, spectacled student responded to the invitation to come in, and stood respectfully awaiting the Warden’s remarks.
‘Miss Morris,’ said Mrs Bradley without preamble, ‘you are a Second-Year Student?’
‘Yes, Warden.’
‘Did you put on a pair of dark-coloured trousers and dance round the bonfire in front of Hall last night?’
‘No, Warden.’
‘Thank you, Miss Morris. Are you the only Miss Morris in Athelstan?’
‘Yes, Warden.’
‘And in College?’
‘There is a Miss Morris in the Second-Year in Bede.’
‘Thank you, Miss Morris.’
‘Anything more, Warden?’
‘No, child. I hope you didn’t hurry over your tea?’
