The situation was at a deadlock. Much as he disliked scent, Mr. Day was obliged to admit to himself that the law was not on his side. He was a serious man without a spark of humour in his composition, and with a tremendous enthusiasm for fairness, and he did not wish to do anything tyrannical. If the boy really was afraid of germs, he had no right to prevent him doing his best to stave them off.
He gave up the struggle in despair. Buxton walked back to his seat, and two days later entered the form-room with a cold which not only made it necessary for him to use eucalyptus, but also to speak unintelligibly through his nose. Mr. Day spent the morning with his handkerchief to his face, a pathetic figure which would have softened the heart of a less vengeful person than Buxton.
Public opinion was divided on the subject of Buxton's manoeuvres. The Lower Fifth, glad of anything to relieve the tedium of school-time, hailed him as a public benefactor. Liss openly complained that life was not worth living, and that he might just as well spend his time in a scent-factory. Greenwood, the prefect of Buxton's dormitory, took a stronger line.
Having observed without preamble that he was not going to be asphyxiated for the amusement of Buxton or anyone like him, he attached himself to the scruff of that youth's neck, and kicked him several times with much vigour and enthusiasm. He said, that if Buxton came into the dormitory like that again, he would have much pleasure in wringing his neck and chucking him out of the window.
In this delicate position, Buxton acted in statesmanlike fashion. Scented as before during the day, he left his handkerchief in the study on retiring to rest. So that, with the exception of Mr. Day and Liss, everyone was satisfied.
Liss brooded darkly over his injuries. At last, struck with an idea, he went across to the Infirmary to see Vickery. Vickery, a noted man of resource, was an Applebyite member of the Upper Fourth, and he had been down for a week or two with influenza. He was now convalescent, and visitors were admitted at stated intervals.
"I say, Vickery," began Liss, taking a seat.
"Hullo!"
"When are you coming back to the house?"
"Oh, soon. Next Monday, I believe."
"Well, look here." And Liss set forth his grievance. Vickery was amused.
"It's all very well to laugh," said Liss, complainingly, "but it's beastly for me. I say, what I really wanted to see you for was to ask if you'd mind swopping studies for a bit." (Vickery owned study three, one of the smaller rooms, only capable of accommodating one resident.) "You see," pursued Liss hurriedly, in order to forestall argument, "it wouldn't be the same for you. I don't suppose you can smell a thing after the 'flu', can you?"
"It would have to be pretty strong to worry me," agreed Vickery.
"Then will you?" said Liss. "You'll find Buxton a good enough sort of chap when he isn't playing rotten games of this sort. And he's got Giles's crib to the 'Medea.'"
This was Liss's ace of trumps, and it settled the matter. Vickery agreed to the exchange instantly, and gave his consent to the immediate removal of his goods and chattels from study three and the substitution of those of Liss. Liss went over to the house and spent the evening shifting furniture, retiring to his dormitory grubby, but jubilant, at "lights-out."
On the following Monday, Vickery was restored to Appleby's, with a doctor's certificate stating that he was cured.
Buxton welcomed him with open arms, explained the state of the game to him, and assured him that he was an improvement upon Liss.
" Youdon't mind this scent business, do you?" he said. "Rather not," said Vickery, "I love scent. I use it myself."
"Good man," said Buxton.
But he altered his opinion next day.
"Great Caesar," he cried, as he came into the study after a pleasant afternoon with Mr. Day. He rushed to the window, and opened it. Vickery surveyed him with amused surprise.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Can't you smell it, you ass?" said Buxton, wildly.
"Smell it?" repeated Vickery. A light seemed to dawn upon him. "Oh," he said, "you mean the stuff I've got on my handkerchief. Don't you like it? Doctors say it's awfully good for keeping off germs."
Buxton, in a voice rendered nasal by a handkerchief pressed tightly over his face, replied that he did not. He hung out of the window again. Vickery grinned broadly, but became solemn as his companion turned round.
"Well, I didn't think you would have minded," he said, in a reproachful voice, "I thought you rather liked scent."
"Scent! Do you call it a scent! What on earth is the muck?"
"It's only sulphuretted hydrogen. The doctor recommended it, to keep off any bad effects after the flu. I can't smell it much, but it seems rather decent. You wouldn't like some, would you?"
"Look here," said Buxton, "how long is this going on?"
"I couldn't say exactly, till I'm quite fit again. Two or three weeks, probably."
"Weeks! Did you say weeks?"
"Yes. Not longer, I shouldn't think. A month at the outside. Hullo, you aren't off?"
Buxton left the room, and went down the passage to number three.
"Get out," said Liss briefly. "I don't want this study-"
"Then would you mind swopping with me?" put in Buxton eagerly. "I don't think I shall quite hit it off with Vickery. He's much more a pal of yours than mine."
"Oh, hang it," said Liss, "I can't always be changing about. I've got all my things fixed up here. It's too much fag to move them again."
"I'll do that. You needn't worry about it. I'll shift your things into number eight to-night, if you'll swop. Will you?"
"All right," said Liss, "don't go breaking any of my pictures."
"Rather not," said Buxton. "Thanks awfully. And, I say, you can keep that Giles, if you like."
"Thanks," said Liss, "it'll come in useful."
"What made Buxton clear out like that?" he asked Vickery, as they brewed their first pot of tea after the exchange. "Did you have a row?"
"No. It was only that he didn't like the particular brand of scent I used."
Liss's jaw dropped.
"Great Scott," he said, "you don't use scent, too, do you?"
"Only when Buxton's there," said Vickery. He related the story briefly.
"I thought it would be better for us two together than having to share the study with Buxton," he concluded; "so I laid in a little scent, as he was so fond of it. I chucked it away yesterday."
"What a ripping idea," said Liss. "I hope it made him feel jolly ill. Anyway, it paid him back for the time he gave me."
"Yes, scent per scent," murmured Vickery; and, the last round of toast being now ready, and the kettle boiling over, study number eight proceeded to keep the wolf from the door.