A Javelin for Jonah by Gladys Mitchell Read Free Book Online

spare man wearing a regrettable tweed cap with his blazer. He will tell you what he wants you to do. Coaching of field athletics, I believe it is. You won an inter-college event, I understand, in some form of throwing competition when you were up.
    Me . Yes, sir, I—that is, well, the shot. It’s not really a throw, it’s a putt. As a matter of fact, sir…
    Him . Gassie, my dear Martin, Gassie.
    Me . I didn’t mean to be loquacious, sir. I’m very sorry. I only meant to tell you…
    Him . Loquacious?
    Me . Gassy, sir.”
    Hamish laughed. “You are an ass!” he said.
    “I could see a new thought had come to him,” went on Martin, “but you know, Jimmy, I can no more envisage myself addressing the Warden as Gassie than taking a trip in a space thingummy to the moon. However—I don’t believe I’ve told anybody this bit—I went on to tell him that, when he put me right, I was only going to say that I was really a javelin man. We were short on the shot that year, so I agreed to take it on, but it wasn’t my best event. All he said was, ‘Splendid, my dear Martin. Henry is the small, alert man in the loud tweed cap which he insists upon wearing with his blazer.’ ”
    “His method of terminating all interviews, I think,” said Hamish, reserving to himself the fact that Gascoigne’s last interview had not been concluded in quite that way. “What about this run?”
    “The run? Oh, I’m leaving that to Jerry. He’ll know a route. About seven miles is my idea, but he may want to stretch it to twelve.”
    “If he does,” said Hamish, “I think you and I will take a short cut home and fry the bangers.”
    Jerry, however, was willing to allow that six or seven miles at that time of year would be sufficient.
    “It’s damned hot today,” he said. “Heard the latest about Jonesy?”
    “If you mean in connection with Bertha’s father,” began Martin, “the answer is yes.”
    “Oh, no. Since then. It seems Jonah has been to old Gassie and offered his resignation. One of my sprint relay lot told me.”
    “ No !” exclaimed Martin and Hamish in chorus.
    “Fact. Had it from Jonah himself, so the lad said.”
    “When?” asked Hamish, the conversation he had overheard being fresh in his mind. “When did you hear this?”
    “Just a few minutes ago. Jonah told this chap that the Bertha story—which is all round College, by the way—was all my eye, but that it had hurt him to think Gassie believed it, so, in order to resolve the situation (the kid’s words, not mine) Jonah had decided to leave.”
    “Does anybody else know?” asked Martin.
    “Soon will, anyhow. Well, now, do you chaps think we’d better just look in on Henry and Ma Yale to make sure everything is still all right in the dining-hall before we go off?”
    The idea that this was at all necessary tickled Hamish, since Henry possessed apparently hypnotic or occult powers where the management and control of the students was concerned, and Miss Yale was the last person on earth to need assistance with College discipline.
    “Oh, I shouldn’t think he’d thank us,” he said. “Bit of an interruption, if he’s already got the film started, wouldn’t you think?”
    “I don’t know. There’s a funny feeling abroad,” said Martin,“ and there’ll be whoopee, anyway, once the students know Jonah is going to leave us.”
    “If he really is going to leave us,” said Hamish, again remembering the last words he had heard Jones address to the Warden, and the arrogant sound of a loudly-slammed door.
    The cross-country run was enjoyable and was completely without incident. When it was over, the three runners, bathed and changed, assembled in Martin’s room to fry the sausages and settle down to consume these and the rest of the feast which he had provided, and the College, intent upon its own tea, appeared to be at peace. The two young women lecturers, with Henry and Barry (who had returned from the hospital), were entertained to buttered