Chapter Thirty
“That was capital sport,” Dex said, once they’d reached the safety of Octavius’s room. “Capital!”
Octavius grunted, and tossed the sword on his bed.
“Rumpole’s going to be a monk from now on,” Dex said, flinging himself down in the armchair. “Mark my words. A monk!”
Octavius grunted again.
Dex c****d his head at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
Octavius couldn’t articulate how he felt because he didn’t understand it himself. He settled for shaking his head.
“What?” Dex asked.
Octavius shrugged, and said the first thing that entered his head: “He wet himself.”
Dex shrugged, too. “Serves him right.”
Octavius frowned.
Dex frowned back at him. “What?” he said. “You don’t think so? He tried to r**e you at Vauxhall.”
“I know,” Octavius said. “I know.” He sighed, and rubbe
