Tom Brown's Body Read Online Free PDF Page A

their knees but come to no other harm in climbing up to their dormitory, soon rejoined Eaves and Meyrick, the other occupants of the room.
    'What was it like?' whispered Eaves.
    'All right. Dry up,' responded Merrys.
    'I say!' whispered Skene, raising his head from the pillow. 'Aren't we in luck? Hear that?'
    What he had heard was the swishing down of the rain.
    'Missed it by less than five minutes! Golly!' said Merrys. 'Been dashed awkward if we'd had to account for soaked clothes. I never thought of it raining! Did you , Skene?'
    Skene said nothing. He took off his shoes, socks, and jacket, left them on the floor, and went to bed in his trousers. Merrys found pyjamas and struggled into them in the dark. 'Tell you in the morning,' he whispered as he crept between the sheets. 'We think there might be a murder.'
    'At the Dogs?' was the excited, anticipatory response.
    'No, of course not. Dry up. You'll wake somebody. Good night. The Dogs are a washout. You have to pay half a crown just to go in.'
    'But what about the murder?'
    'Nothing, you fool! I was only pulling your silly fat leg. And, look here! Don't you two go shooting your heads off in the morning!'
    'What do you think we are!' said the injured pair.
    'Often wondered,' responded Merrys. 'Pax, you damned idiot! You'll bring old Albert-Edward! Oh, damn you! That was my knee-cap! Shut up, you fool!'
    'Tell us about the murder, then!'
    'There isn't any murder. It was only that we heard the Spiv having a frightful row with someone.'
    'His missus, I expect. They do row. Elkins told me so. His people know her a bit.'
    'Elkins is a cad.'
    'Yes, he is, rather. What did the Spiv say?'
    'Oh, nothing much. It wasn't his cottage, anyway. He jammed his fist through a window. . . . Don't chortle, you ass! You'll bring somebody up! Shut up! And it wasn't his missus, either. She's still away. But the whole thing was rather rummy, and if you'll swear not to tell a soul, we'll tell you about it in the morning.'
    *
    'I was born under Taurus,' said Mrs Bradley complacently, 'or so I am led to believe.'
    'I should like to cast your horoscope,' said Mrs Harries politely. 'But you wanted to see my book. There is just time to show you a little of it before my client appears.'
    Mrs Bradley had scarcely hoped for such luck. She glanced at her watch. It showed twenty-five minutes to eleven. She had been in the cottage less than a quarter of an hour. She had sent George and the car packing, with orders to return for her after breakfast, for she anticipated a long and interesting session with the sibyl from whom she hoped to purchase Mary Toadflax's treasury.
    'I am indeed curious to see the book,' she agreed. 'Did you read it?'
    'No,' said Mrs Harries, who had given up the rough speech of the countryside and reverted to her natural enunciation. 'I might be tempted, so I left it alone. I would be glad to be rid of it. I think perhaps I will give it to you as a symbol of sisterhood. What was your maiden name?'
    Before this interesting secret could be disclosed there came a very muffled tap at the door.
    'Drat!' said Mother Harries. 'There he is already! Too early. Let him cool his heels for a bit.'
    'The man I saw before?' Mrs Bradley enquired.
    'The same. He pesters me. He is a foreign man. He came on a night wind. I think that he, too, has wind of Mary Toadflax's book.'
    The knock was repeated, very much more loudly.
    'Are you sure it is he?' asked Mrs Bradley, whose ears were keen. 'It sounded to me as though there were voices, very young voices, outside.'
    'No one but he would come,' pronounced Mrs Harries with an air and in a tone of omniscience. The knock came again, louder still. Mrs Harries picked up the candle, upon whose supporting saucer she laid her aged hand with sure instinct, and shuffled her way to the door. Mrs Bradley had conceived the impression that she could see, although possibly only dimly. She followed her and stood at her shoulder.
    The candle lighted the young, strained,