Do you behold any suggestion of knotted towels and the
midnight oil?"
Dunn gazed about the room. It was in a whirl of confusion. Pipes and
pouches, a large box of cigarettes, a glass and a half-empty decanter,
were upon the table; boots, caps, golf-clubs, coats, lay piled in
various corners. "Pardon the confusion, dear sir," cried Cameron
cheerfully, "and lay it not to the charge of my landlady. That estimable
woman was determined to make entry this afternoon, but was denied."
Cameron's manner one of gay and nervous bravado.
"Come, Cameron," said Dunn sadly, "what does this mean? You're not
serious; you're not chucking your year?"
"Just that, dear fellow, and nothing less. Might as well as be
ploughed."
"And what then are you going to do?" Dunn's voice was full of a great
pity. "What about your people? What about your father? And, by Jove,
that reminds me, he's coming to town this evening. You know they've been
trying to find you everywhere this last day or two."
"And who are 'they,' pray?"
"Who? The police," said Dunn bluntly, determined to shock his friend
into seriousness.
Cameron sat up quickly. "The police? What do you mean, Dunn?"
"What it means I do not know, Cameron, I assure you. Don't you?"
"The police!" said Cameron again. "It's a joke, Dunn.
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