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faces.
    ‘I think I want Jago,’ I said.
    ‘I suppose there’s a move for Crawford.’
    ‘I’m against that,’ I said.
    ‘Crawford is too – stuffed,’ said Roy Calvert. ‘He’ll just assume the job is due to him by right. He’s complacent. I’d never vote for a man who was complacent.’
    I agreed.
    ‘You know,’ he said, ‘old Winslow is the most unusual man among that lot. He bites their heads off, he’s a bit of a bully, he’s frightfully ill-adjusted. But no one on earth could call him tug. They wouldn’t have him at any price.’
    ‘No one on earth could call Jago tug,’ I said. ‘He’s the least commonplace of men.’
    ‘There are plenty of things in favour of Jago,’ said Roy. ‘But they’re not the things we’re going to hear.’
    ‘He stands a fair chance,’ I said.
    ‘He’s not a commonplace man, is he?’ said Roy. ‘Won’t he be kept cut because of that? They’ll never really think he’s “sound”.’
    ‘Arthur Brown is for him.’
    ‘Uncle Arthur loves odd fish.’
    ‘And Chrystal,’ I said, ‘thinks he can manage him. By the way, I’m very doubtful whether he’s right.’
    ‘It will be extremely funny if he isn’t.’
    We turned down into Petty Cury, and Roy said: ‘The ones who don’t want Jago won’t take it quietly. They’ll have a good deal to say about distinguished scholars – and others not so distinguished.’
    ‘I know more about that than they do,’ he added. I smiled at the touch of arrogance, unusual in him, I saw his face, clear in the light from a shop. He shook his head to get rid of some raindrops, he smiled back, but he was in dead earnest. He went on quietly: ‘Why won’t they see what matters? I want a man who knows something about himself. And is appalled. And has to forgive himself to get along.’

 
7:  Decision to Call on Jago
     
    Roy Calvert and I kept coming back to the Mastership, as we talked late into the night. Before we went to bed, we agreed to tell Brown next day that we were ready to support Jago. ‘Sleep on it, sleep on it,’ said Roy, mimicking Brown’s comfortable tones. The next morning Bidwell, after announcing the time and commenting on the weather, said: ‘Mr Calvert’s compliments, sir, and he says he’s slept on it and hasn’t changed his mind.’
    At five that afternoon, we found Brown in his rooms. His tea was pushed aside, he was working on some lists: but, continuously busy, he was always able to seem at leisure. ‘It’s a bit early for sherry,’ he said. ‘I wonder if you feel like a glass of chablis? I opened it at lunchtime, and we thought it was rather special.’
    He brought out some glasses, and we sat in his armchairs, Brown in the middle. His eyes looked from one of us to the other. He knew we had come for a purpose, but he was prepared to sit there all evening, drinking his wine with enjoyment, and leave the first move to us.
    ‘You asked me,’ I said, ‘to let you know, when I’d decided about the next Master.’
    ‘Why, so I did,’ said Brown.
    ‘I have now,’ I said. ‘I shall vote for Jago.’
    ‘I shall also,’ said Roy Calvert.
    ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Brown said. He smiled at me: ‘I had a feeling you might come round to it. And Roy–’
    ‘It’s all in order,’ said Roy, ‘I’ve slept on it.’
    ‘That’s just as well,’ said Brown. ‘Because if not I should certainly have advised you to do so.’
    I chuckled. In his unhurried, ponderous fashion he was very good at coping with Roy Calvert.
    ‘Well,’ said Brown, sitting back contentedly, ‘this is all very interesting. As a matter of fact, I can tell you something myself. Chrystal and I had a little talk recently, and we felt inclined to put Jago’s name forward.’
    ‘Without committing yourselves, of course?’ Roy enquired.
    ‘Committing ourselves as much as it’s reasonable to do at this stage,’ said Brown.
    ‘There’s one other thing I think I’m at liberty to tell you,’ he