Accrington called it coffee, but Reggie stipulated for a bottle of brandy to be kept in the cupboard. As Freddy and I climbed the staircase in the corner of the Quad we heard the strident tones of our host proclaiming that he was ‘looking for a needle in a haystack.’ This, however, did not in any way justify Freddy’s throwing an empty tobacco tin at him immediately on entering the room, and it seemed only just that the others should show their disapproval of this action by throwing their cushions at Freddy. I alone missed him, but the Pilot was rude enough to say that I must have aimed at Freddy, because I got in a bull’s-eye on a tray containing glasses and syphons which was balanced on a Japanese stool in the corner.

When peace had been restored, Reggie, addressing no one in particular, remarked, ‘The Pilot was seen at the gathering at Martyrs’ Memorial last night.’

‘You’re an artistic liar,’ replied the Pilot, who is not as meek as he looks. And the slight struggle that ensued awoke Fatty, who was peacefully perusing ‘Pick-me-up’ in the corner.

‘I don’t know whose rooms these are,’ he murmured sleepily, ‘but it is customary among gentlemen to offer refreshment to a visitor upon arrival;’ and then, after a plaintive pause, ‘I have been here just three-quarters of an hour.’ After his thirst had been satisfied he was led to the piano, and proceeded to play ‘Hiawatha,’ ‘in order,’ as Reggie explained, ‘to get it over.’

‘Henry Dalston,’ said Freddy, addressing the pianist, ‘as a balloon you are incomparable, but as an ivory-thumper you only take a gulf, and if the same would swallow you up it would be better still.’

‘He takes,’ said Accrington wearily, ‘he takes at least five pounds’ worth of use out of my piano every term; “Hiawatha” about plays itself now.’

‘Then why don’t you make him hire a piano?’ said Reggie.

‘He used to,’ put in Freddy with a gurgling laugh, ‘until we played it the night he was in London, and the Dean had it sent out of College before he came back.’

These revelations were interrupted by Reggie suggesting bridge.

He once taught a Colonial Governor the game at a Swiss mountain hotel, and the Pilot, who was with him, said he made enough to keep them in smokes for a week.

‘Reggie’s getting too uppish about bridge,’ I remarked, as Accrington produced the cards, ‘he thinks he’s rather an authority.’

‘Nobody,’ replied Reggie, severely, ‘nobody is an authority on any game till he can be sure of winning money off his opponents.’

‘How many does it take to play bridge?’ asked Fatty, peevishly, from the window-seat; ‘I hate these card games, they’re always so dull.’

‘Then you shan’t be dull, Henry dearest,’ said Freddy, landing upon Fatty’s lower chest, and then, as he led him by his starboard ear into Accrington’s bedder, ‘Come with your Frederick, and let us cuddle together.’

As they disappeared, Accrington, moved by reminiscences of former quiet evenings, called after them uneasily:

‘Kindly refrain from throwing my pyjamas out of the window, and do not, O do not, spread water about the floor.’

‘The only complaint I have to make against the owner of this public-house,’ said Reggie, as the Pilot dealt in the slow and solemn manner peculiar to him, ‘is that when I came in at the ordinary excursion hour of 1.15 this morning, and demanded a “corpse reviver,” the licensed victualler, who had retired to bed, refused to provide me with anything.’

‘Freddy, who is doing contracts, says that if you don’t get what you want, you may take what you can get, so I took three oranges, a brandy-bottle, and my leave. It was only after Maberly had borrowed the bottle, and served it out to seven men whom he found sleeping in his rooms on his return from the theatre, that Accrington arrived in a costume that was hardly decent, to remark that I had taken the methylated spirits. Of course we went round to see what could be done, but, as Maberly said they had got through three-quarters of the bottle, we decided to leave them in peace.’

‘Especially as,’ added Accrington, ‘when we shouted at them from the Quad, a coal-box, two boot-trees, and an alarm clock suddenly came through the window more or less in our direction.’

‘The only sad thing about it,’ said the Pilot, as he quietly trumped his opponent’s trick, ‘is that Accrington must have meant to drink those spirits himself, which in one so young is positively painful.’

‘Two in diamonds,’ I said, as I put down the score.

‘And one in the footbath,’ yelled Freddy through the open door, as a splash was heard, and Fatty appeared, dripping from the effects of an immersion in Accrington’s tub.

I rose from the table and wiped Fatty tenderly down with an antimacassar; I have noticed that he always repays attentions like these by a sumptuous luncheon, or the gift of a choice cigar imported from Borneo by Dalston senior.

‘Your deal, Martha,’ said the Pilot, as Fatty collapsed heavily into the best chair.

I had just started when a sound of frenzied yells from the Quad caused me to pause for a moment; the shrieks grew louder, and a string of guttural oaths in very low German floated up the staircase.

‘Sport the oak,’ shrieked Accrington, but as Freddy reached the door it flew open, and the portly form of von Graussman, our Rhodes Scholar from the Fatherland, burst in and fell flat upon the floor.

‘I did my best, you fellows,’ panted Cobson, who followed with a red and perspiring face, ‘but he’s rather fatigued, and he’s been sitting on the flower-bed under the Dean’s window for the last half-hour. We’ve put him to bed three times, but he only threw his water-jug out of window, and then came down and posed as Adam in the Quad.’

Von Graussman suddenly sat up, and remarked in a disconnected and peevish way, ‘Hoch der Kaiser,’ after which patriotic effort he mechanically reached for the brandy-bottle on the table near at hand.

As he removed the stopper with a shaky hand, his eye suddenly lighted on Fatty, who was gazing dreamily at the ceiling. A sudden crack followed, as the decanter caught the unfortunate Henry on the lower jaw, and spread its contents down his waistcoat. Fatty rose with a yell which would have done credit to a wild Indian, and, picking up the poker, made for the German who appeared to be quite unconscious of what he had done.

As he had propped himself against the fender and was softly crooning the ‘Wacht am Rhein,’ even Fatty saw that violent retaliation was out of the question, and having emptied a syphon down von Graussman’s back, in order, as he said, to wake him up, he retired to change his suit. The silence which followed his disappearance was broken by Cobson remarking that it was ‘time to get old Grausser to bed.’

‘Right oh!’ said Freddy, who is always ready for an emergency, ‘just you keep a watchful eye upon him while I search for his song-book.’ It is well known to all members of Cecil’s, that the only way to get von Graussman to bed is to let him sing a song. After he has polished off a German students’ drinking chorus, a child of three could manage him with ease.

Unfortunately, as we raised the fuddled foreigner to his feet, Farmborough, who puts the weight for the ’Varsity, and was practising in the Quad, put a clod of earth through our window. Any little trifle like this is enough to disconcert von Graussman, who immediately made a clear sweep of the ornaments on the mantelpiece, and threw them in one clattering cloud on to Farmborough’s head. The immaculate de Beresford, who was crossing the Quad, received a bowl of chrysanthemums over his new winter waistcoat, while the Junior Porter, who had just emerged from the Dean’s staircase, was taken somewhere amidships by a carriage clock.

At the first signs of this fresh disturbance, Accrington had hastily sported his oak, but the hoarse curses of von Graussman soon drew the offended parties to the right door, on which they continued to thump with ever-increasing vigour.

The application of a syphon to the letter-slit proved unavailing, and as Cobson had to be back in his digs at eleven, it was imperative to make a sally. The German, who had seated himself in the coal-scuttle, was past help, so we tied him to his throne with a towel, and removed all possible missiles from within his reach. Having taken these precautions, we armed ourselves with our host’s last two syphons and some rotten oranges which we found in the coal bunker, and prepared for a sortie.

‘They seem to have left off that d——d row,’ said Freddy, ‘but they’re probably waiting for us on the landing, so throw back the portal, and we’ll rout the foe.’

As the door swung back we saw a dim figure on the landing. Reggie took careful aim and caught it in the face with an elderly orange, Freddy bowled a chunk of coal at its feet, while Cobson got in a bull’s-eye with a syphon. The sallying party then retired in good order.

‘I say, Martha, who was that?’ queried Freddy as we closed the door.

‘It looked to me like Farmborough,’ I replied.

‘But,’ said the Pilot, who always raises objections, ‘this was in evening dress, and Farmborough hasn’t been out.’

Just then some person, or persons, unknown, struck a staggering blow on the oak outside. This noise aroused von Graussman, who moved into a commanding position opposite the door, unavoidably taking the coal-scuttle with him. The next thing was the voice of the Dean demanding entrance, which caused the warlike spirit of the company to evaporate instantaneously. Accrington, with the skill born of long practice, concealed himself beneath the sofa, Reggie and I shared his bed, the Pilot, who had taken but a small part in the proceedings, sought the seclusion of the coal-bunker, while Freddy and Cobson stowed themselves behind the piano. Our efforts to induce von Graussman to hide were futile; he still retained his position, and his loudly-expressed contempt for all in authority was, I am told, audible three staircases off.

The jingling of keys outside announced to the expectant but invisible audience, that the Junior Porter was opening the oak, and the Dean made an imposing entrance to the strains of the ‘Lustige BrÜder,’ as rendered, somewhat indistinctly, by the Graf von Graussman.

As the Dean entered, von Graussman rose with some difficulty, and after making a low obeisance—accompanied by the coal-scuttle—addressed the Rev. Fanny in a short but impressive speech which commenced with ‘Mein geliebte und hochwohlgeborn Herr Professor Doktor,’ and ended, after indistinct rumblings, with the words, ‘damnable inshult,’ ‘Faderland’ and ‘Timeforbed.’

After this elocutionary effort was finished, he announced in a feeble voice, that he ‘wongohometel morring,’ and then fell heavily into the fender. The Dean (who has not used the letter R since childhood) remarked nervously, ‘This is a howwid spectacle,’ to which the Porter, who makes a point of agreeing with everybody, replied, ‘Yes sir, certainly sir, of course sir.’

‘I fear the gentleman is partially, or even totally, inebwiated,’ continued the Dean, more to himself than the Porter, and then ‘we will wemove him to his bedwoom,’ which they proceeded to do.

As soon as the melancholy procession had passed down the staircase, a black and dispirited face appeared from the coal-bunker, and suggested that the party should leave for some other and less stirring part of the College.

‘It’ll be allright for Grausser,’ said Freddy, ‘dear old Fanny had a sister who died at twenty-nine from drinking eau-de-cologne, and he’s had a friendly feeling for the noble army of thirst quenchers ever since.’

‘I should suggest that Accrington takes to his virtuous couch,’ said Cobson, as we prepared to depart; ‘if you put a night-shirt over your clothes, and get into bed, you will naturally be too sleepy to answer any questions the Dean may ask. We’ll turn out the electric.’

We descended the stairs without attracting any attention, and just reached the shelter of Fatty’s rooms as the Rev. Fanny and the Junior Porter returned to Accrington’s staircase.

Unfortunately, though Accrington was too sleepy, as Cobson predicted, to answer the Dean’s questions, Fanny spotted a stiff collar protruding from under the surplice, and retired saying that he would draw his own conclusions, and leaving a distinct chill behind him. Anyhow it was a very pleasant evening, and, as Accrington said, it was cheap at the price of four days’ gating. The two pounds which von Graussman paid the Sub-Treasurer, and the three weeks during which he remained in College after hall, presumably for the good of his health, are they not duly recorded in the Chronicles of Cecil College, and of Bartholomew Wilkinson, its Dean?

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