In the farther corner sat Philbrick, talking volubly in Welsh to a shady‑looking old man.
'Damned cheek his coming in here! said Grimes.
Mrs Roberts brought them their beer. Grimes took a long draught and sighed happily.
'This looks like being the first end of term I've seen for two years, he said dreamily. 'Funny thing, I can always get on all right for about six weeks, and then I land in the soup. I don't believe I was ever meant by Nature to be a schoolmaster. Temperament, said Grimes, with a faraway look in his eyes ‑ 'that's been my trouble, temperament and sex.
'Is it quite easy to get another job after ‑ after you've been in the soup? asked Paul.
'Not at first, it isn't, but there're ways. Besides, you see, I'm a public‑school man. That means everything. There's a blessed equity in the English social system, said Grimes, 'that ensures the public‑school man against starvation. One goes through four or five years of perfect hell at an age when life is bound to be hell, anyway, and after that the social system never lets one down.
'Not that I stood four or five years of it, mind; I got the push soon after my sixteenth birthday. But my housemaster was a public‑school man. He knew the system. "Grimes," he said, "I can't keep you in the House after what has happened. I have the other boys to consider. But I don't want to be too hard on you. I want you to start again." So he sat down there and then and wrote me a letter of recommendation to any future employer, a corking good letter, too. I've got it still. It's been very useful at one time or another. That's the public‑school system all over. They may kick you out, but they never let you down.
'I subscribed a guinea to the War Memorial Fund. I felt I owed it to them. I was really sorry, said Grimes, 'that that cheque never got through.
'After that I went into business. Uncle of mine had a brush factory at Edmonton. Doing pretty well before the war. That put the lid on the brush trade for me. You're too young to have been in the war, I suppose? Those were days, old boy. We shan't see the like of them again. I don't suppose I was really sober for more than a few hours for the whole of that war. Then I got into the soup again, pretty badly that time. Happened over in France. They said, "Now, Grimes, you've got to behave like a gentleman. We don't want a court‑martial in this regiment. We're going to leave you alone for half an hour. There's your revolver. You know what to do. Good‑bye, old man," they said quite affectionately.
'Well, I sat there for some time looking at that revolver. I put it up to my head twice, but each time I brought it down again. "Public‑school men don't end like this," I said to myself. It was a long half hour, but luckily they had left a decanter of whisky in there with me. They'd all had a few, I think. That's what made them all so solemn. There wasn't much whisky left when they came back, and, what with that and the strain of the situation, I could only laugh when they came in. Silly thing to do, but they looked so surprised, seeing me there alive and drunk.
' "The man's a cad," said the colonel, but even then I couldn't stop laughing, so they put me under arrest and called a court‑martial.
'I must say I felt pretty low next day. A major came over from another battalion to try my case. He came to see me first, and bless me if it wasn't a cove I'd known at school.
' "God bless my soul," he said, "if it isn't Grimes of Podger's! What's all this nonsense about a court‑martial?" So I told him. "H'm," he said, "pretty bad. Still, it's out of the question to shoot an old Harrovian. I'll see what I can do about it." And next day I was sent to Ireland on a pretty cushy job connected with postal service. That saw me out as far as the war was concerned. You can't get into the soup in Ireland, do what you like. I don't know if all this bores you?
'Not at all, said Paul. 'I think it's most encouraging.
'I've been in the soup pretty often since then, but never quite so badly. Someone always turns up and says, "I can't see a public‑school man down and out. Let me put you on your feet again." I should think, said Grimes, 'I've been put on my feet more often than any living man.
Philbrick came across the bar parlour towards them.
'Feeling lonely? he said. 'I've been talking to the stationmaster here, and if either of you wants an introduction to a young lady ‑
'Certainly not, said Paul.
'Oh, all right, said Philbrick, making off.
'Women are an enigma, said Grimes, 'as far as Grimes is concerned.
CHAPTER IV Mr Prendergast
Paul was awakened next morning by a loud bang on his door, and Beste‑Chetwynde looked in. He was wearing a very expensive‑looking Charvat dressing‑gown.
'Good morning, sir, he said. 'I thought I'd come and tell you, as you wouldn't know: there's only one bath room for the masters. If you want to get there before Mr Prendergast, you ought to go now. Captain Grimes doesn't wash much, he added, and then disappeared.
Paul went to the bath and was rewarded some minutes later by hearing the shuffling of slippers down the passage and the door furiously rattled.
As he was dressing Philbrick appeared.
'Oh, I forgot to call you. Breakfast is in ten minutes.
After breakfast Paul went up to the Common Room. Mr Prendergast was there polishing his pipes, one by one, with a chamois leather. He looked reproachfully at Paul.
'We must come to some arrangement about the bathroom, he said. 'Grimes very rarely has a bath. I have one before breakfast.
'So do I, said Paul defiantly.
'Then I suppose I shall have to find some other time, said Mr Prendergast, and he gave a deep sigh as he returned his attention to his pipes. 'After ten years, too, he added, 'but everything's like that. I might have known you'd want the bath. It was so easy when there was only Grimes and that other young man. He was never down in time for breakfast. Oh dear! oh dear! I can see that things are going to be very difficult.
'But surely we could both have one?
'No, no, that's out of the question. It's all part of the same thing. Everything has been like this since I left the ministry.
Paul made no answer, and Mr Prendergast went on breathing and rubbing.
'I expect you wonder how I came to be here?
'No, no, said Paul soothingly. 'I think it's very natural.
'It's not natural at all; it's most unnatural. If things had happened a little differently I should be a rector with my own little house and bathroom. I might even have been a rural dean, only' ‑ and Mr Prendergast dropped his voice to a whisper ‑ 'only I had Doubts.
'I don't know why I'm telling you all this, nobody else knows. I somehow feel you'll understand.
'Ten years ago I was a clergyman of the Church of England. I had just been presented to a living in Worthing. It was such an attractive church, not old, but vey beautifully decorated, six candles on the altar, Reservation in the Lady Chapel, and an excellent heating apparatus which burned coke in a little shed by the sacristy door, no graveyard, just a hedge of golden privet between the church and the rectory.
'As soon as I moved in my mother came to keep house for me. She bought some chintz, out of her own money, for the drawing‑room curtains. She used to be "at home" once a week to the ladies of the congregation. One of them, the dentist's wife, gave me a set of the Encyclopaedia Britannica for my study. It was all very pleasant until my Doubts began
'Were they as bad as all that? asked Paul.
'They were insuperable, said Mr Prendergast; 'that is why I am here now. But I expect T am boring you?