He saw Liddell, too." "Trouble for some," said Chas. "Perhaps Liddell's pawned the Alderman Bewick Chromium-Plated Cup for Effort!" "No such luck. Hey, do you think they're on to you-know-what?" "The way Boddser's shooting off his mouth, it'll be any moment now. What about you going down to Chirton Wood and having a check?" "Aw, it'll be all right for today." "That's what Julius Caesar thought on the Ides of March." "D'you think I ought to go and have a look, honestly?" "Yeah! Hey, Carrot-juice, can we borrow your bike this lunchtime?" He addressed a high-pitched scream to a very small first-year with ginger hair, across a dismal landscape of spilled water and melting, discarded peas. "Cost ya," said Carrot-juice, without stopping spooning in disgusting custard, his third helping. "Two empty cartridge cases, from a Spitfire?" "Betcha picked them up on the Home Guard Rifle Range." "No I didn't. My cousin's an RAF gun repairer.
