CHAPTER XIII

DICK WAS eating a very thoughtful and solemn breakfast in what he had flippantly called the baronial hall, which was Tommy’s dining room, when the owner of the house walked in. It was the sort of crazily unexpected appearance that Tommy loved to make. “For the love of Mike, what’s the matter with Clacton?” Tommy’s face was long and lugubrious. “I’m finished, old thing. I’ve made a most fearful faux pas—committed the most terrible sole—you know the word, old boy: it’s highbrow and means ‘blotted my copybook.’” “Sole…