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diff --git a/old/60926-0.txt b/old/60926-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c96db53..0000000 --- a/old/60926-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9757 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Captains of Harley, by Hylton Cleaver, -Illustrated by H. M. Brock - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Captains of Harley - A School Story - - -Author: Hylton Cleaver - - - -Release Date: December 15, 2019 [eBook #60926] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS OF HARLEY*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing, Tim Lindell, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 60926-h.htm or 60926-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/60926/60926-h/60926-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/60926/60926-h.zip) - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - - - - -CAPTAINS OF HARLEY - - - * * * * * - -SCHOOL STORIES BY -HYLTON CLEAVER - - - BROTHER O’ MINE: - A Story of Harley - - THE HARLEY FIRST XI - - ROSCOE MAKES GOOD - -HUMPHREY MILFORD - - * * * * * - - -[Illustration: - - “WHEN HE HIT THE BOARDS HE LAY STILL.” - - [_See p. 273._] - - -CAPTAINS OF HARLEY - -A School Story - -by - -HYLTON CLEAVER - -Author of “Brother o’ Mine,” etc. - -With Illustrations by H. M. Brock - - - - - - -Humphrey Milford -Oxford University Press -London Edinburgh Glasgow -Toronto Melbourne Capetown Bombay -1921 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. THE BOY IN THE CORNER 9 - - II. THE GREAT GAME 20 - - III. COMING EVENTS 31 - - IV. A SLIGHT MISTAKE 40 - - V. BREAKERS AHEAD 54 - - VI. A RISING STAR 62 - - VII. A CABINET MEETING 71 - - VIII. THE THUMB-SCREW 82 - - IX. A MOLE-HILL AND A MOUNTAIN 94 - - X. THE WATCHERS 101 - - XI. THE HOLD 110 - - XII. CIRCUMSTANCES HAVE ARISEN 127 - - XIII. SOMETHING UP HIS SLEEVE 135 - - XIV. THE FIRST ROUND 142 - - XV. THE SAFETY VALVE 152 - - XVI. YESTERDAY’S CAPTAIN 165 - - XVII. SALVE 182 - - XVIII. THE UNCOUNTED COST 188 - - XIX. THE CUP OF BITTERNESS 197 - - XX. THE LAST ROUND 218 - - XXI. SECRET SERVICE 230 - - XXII. HARD ROE 243 - - XXIII. THE DAY OF RECKONING 261 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “WHEN HE HIT THE BOARDS HE LAY STILL” (See page 273) - _Frontispiece in colour_ - - FACING PAGE - - “HE BEGAN TO TROT UP THE FIELD LIKE A PUP WITH A SLIPPER” 28 - - “THE HEAD ADVANCED UPON THEM IN GROWING ANGER” 98 - - “‘THE MATCH IS SCRATCHED, SIR,’ SAID HE” 148 - - “‘I THINK YOU’VE SEEN THAT BEFORE?’” 208 - - - - - CHAPTER I - THE BOY IN THE CORNER - - -A wiry, grave-faced youngster sat in the corner of the railway carriage -watching a stupid parent saying good-bye to a stupid boy. - -He was glad that nobody had come to see him off, for he had now the -satisfaction of knowing that his own father was a father more worth -having than any other he had seen yet. Also he could look upon the -pitiable scene now being enacted before him from the standpoint of one -who at least could be trusted to get into the right carriage without -leaping out by the other door to see if it were really labelled “Harley” -on both sides. This fat boy had done that, and afterwards he had sat -down very heavily on a packet of sandwiches and was unaware of it. The -boy in the corner wondered if they would be sticking to him when he -stood up. As for the parent of the fat boy, he stood outside looking -nervously towards the engine, and his raincoat, which was unbuttoned, -blew this way and that in the breeze; once it had somewhat foolishly -knocked some buns off a push-cart. He wore a hat poised far forward over -his nose, and he had flat feet. - -Whilst the boy in the corner sat watching with thoughtful eyes, the man -broke suddenly into a rapid clog dance and beckoned to his son. Above -the rat-a-tat of his feet upon the platform could be heard his voice -plaintively upraised: - -“Arthur! Arthur! _Come_ here! Jump out as quickly as you possibly can. I -have something to say to you.” - -Arthur took just one glad leap into the open, landing upon his father’s -foot. Then, clapping his ear against his father’s lips, he listened with -a coy interest to his urgent whispers, until he was suddenly gripped by -the elbow and spun upon his heel. - -“Get in at once, my boy, get in at once!” his parent was commanding. “At -once, I say. The train is about to go. Get in quickly ... quickly.” - -Arthur fell in head-first, and arrived limply half on the seat and half -on the floor. Then he slowly clawed his way on to the cushions and -subsided. But now once again there sounded that terrible parent’s -staccato voice. The unhappy boy was hooked by the arm with an umbrella. - -“It is not going yet after all,” he was told. “Come out again. Come out -for a moment. I have something to say to you.” - -The wiry boy in the corner began to feel sorry for Arthur: he was -perspiring so very freely. However, there followed confidence after -confidence until, finally and for the last time, the father threw his -son bodily into the carriage like a sack of potatoes. - -The blast of a whistle had reached his expectant ears. - -“Get in! Get in!” he was crying. “For goodness’ sake do get in! What a -foolish boy you are. You will certainly miss the train. Be sure to -write. Good-bye ... good-bye ... good-bye!” - -Then the train was really moving out of the station at last. Numberless -boys in Harley caps were scrambling into carriages, and as the little -man with the goatee beard gave one final wave of his glove to his -departing son, two young men cannoned into him from behind, and his hat -flew violently forwards and outwards, causing him to make a somewhat -ludicrous exit from the boy in the corner’s field of view. Next the -foremost of his assailants had sprung for the carriage door and they had -tumbled in. - -One of the two seemed a little embarrassed at the diversion they had -caused, and sat down modestly in a corner. The other wiped his forehead, -and then turned and beheld Arthur with both interest and delight. - -The portly Arthur was sitting stiffly upright and staring at his ticket -with wide protuberant eyes, the while he trembled like unto one smitten -with ague. He looked up at the boy in the corner and gaped. He tried to -speak. Words failed him. At last a low moan escaped his lips. - -“My ticket! My ticket! Father has taken it away with him and he—” he -paused and collected himself for a bellow of despair—“he has given me -his own return ticket to _Ealing_!” - -The boy in the corner looked at him as if one might have expected -something like this would have occurred after all that palaver, and the -brief silence that followed his sensational news was only broken by a -peculiar grunt that would not be stifled. Then up spoke one of the late -arrivals. Both were evidently boys of some seniority and wore bowler -hats. The one who spoke now had a lean and humorous countenance lit by -strangely bright eyes. - -“Nick,” said he to his companion, “look out of the window. Do you see -anyone coming?” - -The young gentleman addressed as Nick was beaming thoughtfully as if to -himself, and he did not at once obey. - -“I will look myself,” said the other, rising impatiently and leaning far -out. “Yes, I can see a cloud of dust. Right in the middle of it there is -the figure of a man bounding along the road at such a break-neck speed -that his feet are scarcely touching the ground at all. It appears,” he -added, turning to Arthur, “to be your sportsmanlike father.” He coughed. -“His chances of catching us are somewhat small, of course. The train is -now going at full speed. Your father is certainly making a very fine -effort indeed ... his movements are not unlike those of a good-class -cat ... but he will, I fear, be outdistanced by the puff-puff. Your -father——” - -The fat boy could stand this no longer. He pushed his head fiercely out -of the window under the other’s arm. - -“Where?” he demanded. “Where’s my father?” He looked harder still. -“Why,” said he, “we’re only just out of the station. There’s no cloud of -dust at all.” - -“No,” confessed the other. “Now that I come to look with my other eye I -must admit that I do not see it so clearly myself. Still there might -have been. It is a pretty picture to conjure up—your father absolutely -running himself to a standstill to get back his ticket to Ealing.” - -After this there was silence for a little while. The bright-eyed youth -resumed his seat and appeared to be thinking things over. He threw his -bowler on to the rack and passed a hand thoughtfully over his hair. - -At last he leaned forward, resting his elbows upon his knees, and faced -Arthur. - -Then he inclined his head sideways towards his fair-haired comrade. - -“That robust-looking fellow over there is known as Terence Nicholson,” -said he, weighing his words. “He has been three years in the Harley -Cricket Eleven, and now he’s in the Rugger side, so be careful what you -say. His brother’s called ‘Old Nick,’ and he’s a master at school. Very -likely you’ll see him walking along the footboards on his hands if you -look outside. My own name,” he paused, in order to give added emphasis -to the noble word, “is Rouse.” - -He did not care to introduce himself as the probable captain of Rugby -football during the coming term, for Rouse was not conceited about the -things that he _could_ do. Oddly enough he was only conceited about the -things that he could not. - -“A beak called Mould,” he announced, “once told me when I was construing -Latin that I had a very inventive brain.” He tapped his forehead -significantly. “He was entirely correct. You see in me a man who thinks -for exercise rather than for profit, and it will comfort you to know -that I have already devised a way of escape for you in your astounding -dilemma. I ask myself: ‘Now how is this poor misguided creature ever -going to pass through the iron barriers of Harley with only a silly -little ticket to Ealing in his hand?’ And the answer is this: ‘I will -ask him to give that ticket to me.’” - -The fat boy reached out a trembling hand and gave over his ticket -somewhat fearfully. - -Rouse took it and solemnly tore it into a hundred pieces. The fat boy -screamed. - -“Oh, you’ve spoilt it!” - -“Certainly,” admitted Rouse, “it is a trifle bent. But why? Because now -nobody knows whether it is a ticket to Harley or the Federated Malay -States. Will they, however, suppose that you would be such an ass as to -buy a ticket to Ealing when you intended proceeding to Harley? I think -not. You have to give up your ticket at the other end, and you’ll give -it up, that’s all. It will be in pieces, but there’s no law against -that. The warden at the gate will say: ‘Hi, here you! What’s this?’ and -you’ll say: ‘That, sir, is my ticket,’ and you’ll pour it generously -into his open hands. He’ll never know. He’ll think it’s a practical -joke, scowl at you, and pass you through with the toe of his boot.” - -There was an awed silence. Rouse was well satisfied with the effect of -his words. Suddenly however there spoke up Terence Nicholson from his -corner. It was the first time that he had been able to get a word in and -he spoke modestly. - -“Yes,” said he, “that’s all very well; only the ticket to Harley is -green and his ticket to Ealing’s red. That’s all.” - -There came a silence of several moments, whilst those present considered -this point with new interest, and at last Terence shook his head -regretfully. - -“There’s always something wrong with your schemes,” said he. “You don’t -grow any older. You don’t improve a bit.” - -And thereupon there came a rush of air and a roar and the train had -entered a tunnel. The light spluttered hopefully for a moment and then -died a natural death. They were plunged into darkness. - -At last the melancholy voice of Rouse was again uplifted in a sonorous -protest that came heavily through the darkness as if in pleading: - -“Well, you’re always very clever at picking holes,” said he. “In common -with the rest of Harley’s populace you cherish that silly notion that -except for a certain knack in playing footer I am one of the most -useless and incapable creatures ever built. Let me hear you make a -suggestion, my lad.” - -“Well, if you ask me,” said Terence, “I should say, let him tell the -truth.” - -Rouse cleared his throat. - -“Well, I think you may be right. It’ll be difficult for anyone to -believe _that_ poor boy capable of practising deceit. In fact one may -say that he looks strongly like a boy who could be depended upon to -forget his ticket.” - -The train came suddenly into daylight again and Rouse stopped abruptly. - -The fat boy was weeping. - -Rouse stared at him for a moment, then looked askance at Terence, and -finally he turned a sternly prefectorial eye upon the boy in the corner -who had hitherto somewhat escaped his notice. The boy looked back at him -a little uncertainly with a half smile. He was not at all sure whether -it was good form to laugh at a boy who was crying. Rouse gave him no -hint. He just looked: and presently the other blinked at him -apologetically. Actually Rouse was deciding, as he afterwards told -Terence, what a peculiarly good-looking kid he was. - -“What’s your name?” said he at last. - -“Carr,” said the boy in the corner. - -“And which house are you going to?” - -“Mr Morley’s, I think.” - -“Over that house,” said Rouse, “I weave my spell. Also Friend Nicholson -there. We were in that house when an arch-idiot named Mould ruled over -our form, and at one time I must confess we appeared to be sinking. Yet, -as we came up for the third time, so to speak, he was removed, and we -survived. You’ll find Morley all right.” He turned to Arthur a little -awkwardly. “Don’t answer if you’d rather not,” said he courteously, “but -to which house are you being admitted?” - -The fat boy did not raise his head. He simply continued to weep, and at -last there broke from his lips these sad words: “I want my t-t-ticket.” - -Rouse fumbled in his pocket and at last produced a small piece of chalk. - -“Here you are,” said he. “Draw yourself one on the wall.” - -From that time onward the conversation was maintained solely by the -expectant captain of Rugby football. Nobody else seemed to have anything -to say, but he had a great deal. Terence Nicholson sat in his corner -with the reminiscent smile of the man one may notice in the stalls of -any theatre—the man who has seen the show twice before but who is -enjoying it all none the less for that. - -Bobbie Carr listened with deep and genuine interest, but he said -nothing. He was too hypnotised. His large eyes followed Rouse’s every -movement and never wavered. - -Arthur merely swayed backwards and forwards in his seat, and sometimes -when the train stopped with a jerk he was jolted forward on to the knees -of the boy in the corner, over whom he hung with sagging head; then when -the train started again was bumped back so that he cracked his skull -against the wall of the compartment, but he seemed not to care. - -At last they reached Harley. - -As soon as they had alighted the large figure of a man suddenly appeared -from nowhere and loomed over them. The man was dressed exceedingly well -and exceedingly comfortably in Harris tweeds. He wore a soft hat and a -club tie, and his large feet were enclosed in large brogue shoes. Even -his pipe was large. His hand reached out and rested upon Terence’s -shoulder. Finally he looked at Rouse. - -“As for you,” said he, “it’s no use you saying you’re not there, because -I can see your ears flapping behind that grin.” - -The gentleman addressed endeavoured to keep a straight face, whilst from -the near locality Arthur was to be heard lamenting his ill-fortune and -crying aloud for advice. - -For the last year or so Terence had been doing his best to overtake Toby -in point of size, but he was still a trifle overshadowed by his -brother’s large form, and he stood beside him modestly, as if pleased to -claim a certain reflected glory. He could never see any reason for -self-conceit in the fact that he had been three years in the Harley -Cricket Eleven and one year in the First Fifteen. The only thing he was -really proud about was the fact that Toby was his brother. - -“There’s rather bad news,” said Toby at last. “I’m afraid you’ll be very -sorry.” - -They looked at him inquiringly. - -“The Grey Man has been very ill,” said he, puffing slowly at his pipe, -“and he’s not coming back. We’ve got a new Head.” - -The boy who had sat in the corner was standing hesitantly behind them, -and he was amazed to find Rouse struck dumb. For Rouse just stood and -looked first at Toby and then at Terence, and it was a long time before -he spoke. - -Terence asked quietly: “Who’s coming instead of him then?” - -And Toby answered: “He’s a man called Roe. That’s all I can tell you.” - -And then the pair of them seemed to consider the news with a fresh -gravity, until at last Rouse shook his head sadly and said: - -“I loved that man, you know.” - -Coming from one who throughout the journey had seemed to be merely a -rather superior sort of clown, this statement took Bobbie Carr by -surprise. He stood there beside his bag, watching with wide eyes, -waiting for more. But little more came. Rouse was a young man who could -never make up his mind to grow up, and with the Grey Man he had never -had to don any hypocritical cloak of stiff severity just because he was -becoming one of the oldest boys at Harley, and he had got along very -well indeed. Perhaps it was going to be different now. He picked up his -bag and moved slowly away beside Terence, whilst Toby watched them go -slowly and sadly along the platform towards the barrier, and as Bobbie -followed after them he saw Rouse shake his head solemnly and heard him -say: - -“It’s a bad business. A bad business. Except for Toby, he was about the -only master who’ll ever understand me, Terence, my lad.” - -And when he knew them better Bobbie came to realise that it was only in -moments of considerable gravity that Rouse ever called his friend by his -proper Christian name. - -At the barrier Rouse turned. He seemed suddenly to have remembered the -fat boy. At last he observed him making his way flat-footedly and in -extreme distress along the platform, and he beckoned. - -Arthur increased his speed and came up alongside, breathing heavily and -with his mouth open. Rouse looked at him gravely. All the heart seemed -to have gone out of him. He drew the ticket-collector’s attention to the -fat boy indifferently. - -“This boy,” said he, “has come without his ticket. Will you chronicle -the incident in your annals?” - -The collector looked at him resentfully. In four years Rouse had never -yet passed his barrier without saying something to him which he could -not for the life of him understand. - -“Will you,” continued Rouse, “record his history in your black book?” - -The man turned patiently to the fat boy. - -“You come without your ticket. How did you do that?” - -“He found it easy,” observed Rouse in a hollow voice. - -“What’s your name?” - -Arthur trembled before the glare of the man in uniform, and stuttered -out the simple answer: “Coppin.” - -“What will he do?” he inquired of Rouse as soon as they were clear of -the station. - -“He will communicate with the Headmaster,” answered Rouse, “and you will -never be allowed to travel by train again.” - -And then he lapsed into silence. At last Terence turned to look at him, -and Rouse glanced up and sighed. - -“I shall miss the Grey Man,” said he. “The school won’t seem the same.” - - - - - CHAPTER II - THE GREAT GAME - - -Rouse was walking slowly from the school towards the playing fields. He -was clad in a blazer surmounted by a wide school muffler, wound several -times round his neck, and upon his head he wore a velvet cap heavily -embroidered with brocade. Rouse was at peace with all the world. The -wonderful thing had happened at last: he was captain of Rugby football -at Harley. That it would come had been a foregone conclusion amongst -those who knew. Rouse himself had been a little doubtful. For one thing -he was not yet in the Sixth, and though he had certainly been made a -prefect in spite of this fact the previous term, he knew that he was -commonly regarded as a boy who could see nothing but the silly side of -things. He had been sorry about this because, in spite of his -extravagant sense of humour and his consistent lightheartedness, he -could be serious enough over things that really mattered, and to him -Rugger was one of the things that really did. Only his closest friends -were permitted to understand this side of his character, for he was -sensitive about it, but he found that just as it pays one man to seem a -fool so it sometimes paid him to maintain a reputation for -irresponsibility. Toby and Terence knew him best, and the Grey Man had -grown to understand him; extraordinarily well too. These had known that -if he were elected captain of football he would make good. Moreover the -school had wanted him to be elected. He was easily the most popular -player in the whole of Harley, and besides, he was the most senior of -the old colours, which was always the main consideration in electing the -new captain. - -Well, they had elected him. It had been quite an uproarious meeting, -too; there had been no end of enthusiasm. One small clique had certainly -put up another man whom they claimed was of equal seniority in the -Fifteen, but on hearing his name proposed the gentleman in question had -instantly and somewhat confusedly refused to stand, loudly disclaiming -any desire to skipper a team which could claim the leadership of a man -like Rouse; and amidst loud and approving cheers he had seized the hand -of Rouse and wrung it with the utmost enthusiasm; after which his -friends had been at some pains to explain to their neighbours that they -had only mentioned his name to let him know that he had not been -entirely forgotten. - -So Rouse had really achieved his great ambition.... It was hard not to -chuckle. He progressed steadily towards the practice Rugger ground, -singing gently to himself and picturing the season they were going to -have. Secretly he longed to organise some great rag which should -celebrate this event, for hitherto his life had been largely made up of -rags. He realised now, however, that he would have to steady down. He -had to train a team and lead them on the field, and he had to help Toby -Nicholson teach small boys Rugger. That would take all his time, and for -such employment it was worth while foregoing rags. - -Presently he came within sight of the football ground that was his -destination. Already a crowd was spreading along the touch-lines. He -fingered the switch in his hand with affection. This switch had seen -very good service, for it had been handed on from captain to captain -from time immemorial. You may have thought that Rouse was about to play -Rugby football. He was not. He was about to teach it. On the first day -of each winter term at Harley (and also on other days throughout the -season) two teams are selected to compete in a practice game, and they -consist of small boys and idle boys and new boys. The excuse that some -of these may not know Rugby football is of no account. They attend for -instruction, and the remainder of the school line up with their -waistcoats comfortably loosened in order that they may laugh the more -heartily. The games master referees and the captain of football is armed -with this switch, a cut from which is awarded, on the occasion of each -scrum, to the last man into it, whilst whenever a three-quarter becomes -possessed of the ball he is pursued up the field by this selfsame man, -running rapidly and urging him with word and gesture and such occasional -flicks of his switch as cause each boy, before the game is done, to feel -himself possessed of a demon of speed and agility. There is also a cut -for any boy who, in making a tackle, fails to go for his man at the -knees. It may be noted that old Harleyans attribute the great success of -the school at Rugby football very largely to the excellent effect -produced by the captain’s switch in junior games; and one famous -international has laid it down that in any big match in which he has -broken through with the ball upon his chest he has invariably reached by -instinct for that extra yard of speed which comes from the fear of a -young man racing behind him with a switch, and has thanked his Alma -Mater that he was taught to do so. Nor will you ever see an old Harleyan -last into a scrum or tackling high. It is a good sign. - -The crowd made way for Rouse admiringly, and a characteristic smile, -which in a young boy would have looked more roguish than anything else, -began to appear at the corners of his mouth. In a game like this Rouse -was in his element. He looked thoughtfully round the players and finally -glanced up and down the touch-lines as if in search of any who had -evaded his clutch. There came a ripple of amusement. Some of those -present recalled that on the occasion of the corresponding match last -year those who laughed the most uproariously from the touch-line had -been marked down by Toby Nicholson’s eagle eye during the game, and at -half time had been called upon to perform themselves. It was possible -that this would occur again, and throughout the world those who have -once succumbed to any catch are the keenest layers of the trap for the -next man. - -At last the whistle blew. Next moment Rouse had skipped nimbly into the -midst of things, encouraging all with loud cries, and the idea of the -switch in Rouse’s exuberant hands caused a great and lasting enthusiasm -amongst the players that was exceedingly stirring. Forwards fought for a -place in the front row of the scrum, and many a youth who thought -himself likely to be considered late might be heard loudly declaiming -the fact that he had already packed down once, but finding himself the -fourth man in the front row had been compelled to retire. - -At last one line of three-quarters was fairly away with the ball, and -Rouse went racing across from one to the other, whirling his arm to -ensure that each man took his pass at top speed. Ultimately the wing -received the ball, and being entirely new to the game clearly did not -know what to do with it. For a moment he paused and looked round in -sheer bewilderment. It was fatal. There came a rush of air, and Rouse -was up alongside, driving him forward and shouting aloud definite -instructions. A tall thin boy came towards them and made his tackle; in -a mad moment he went high. Too late he realised his mistake. Out of the -corner of his eyes he was conscious of the switch, and his hands slid -down to the runner’s knees and tightened their grip till both came to -the ground and rolled over and over, whilst the ball flew forwards and -was gathered by an excited youth in abnormally long knickerbockers of -homemade design. Then, high above the laughter of the crowd, there -sounded a great bellow, something akin to the cry of a thoroughly mad -hyæna. At first it was difficult to locate. Rouse paused and his eyes -passed swiftly down either touch-line. The laughter stopped, and he -stepped out and cut lightly at a boy who had just received the ball in -his hands and had not got away so smartly as he should. The game -proceeded. Now and again that loud, extravagant laugh sounded across the -field and caused others to turn in search of it. As a noise it was -altogether novel. Evidently some poor boy was absolutely unable to -control his merriment, and unaware of the fate that would follow him he -gave it full rein. At last there could be no doubt who was doing it; the -laugh became a magnet. Every head was turned towards it. Half time came, -and Rouse spun on his heel and located it definitely. He walked across. -On the touch-line he stretched out his hand and pointed out the -unfortunate creature. It was the boy of such surprising fatness, the -stupid-looking boy, and he stopped laughing abruptly. Toby Nicholson had -moved up alongside Rouse. - -“Look here,” said he, “why is it _you_ are not playing?” - -The fat boy shook his head. - -“I don’t play _that_ game.” - -Rouse thrust his hands into his pockets and nodded his head. - -“Ah,” said he, “many a man is walking down the Strand to-day with the -linings of his pockets hanging out, many a lordly mansion has been -crumbled into dust, many a stately avenue of elms laid low, many a boy -will be knocking at the door of Dr Barnardo’s Home to-night ... all -because somebody hasn’t learned the lesson of Rugby football. Do you -know that?” - -“Why, no,” said the fat boy quakingly. - -Toby had produced a small book. - -“Your name?” - -“Coppin, sir.” - -“Go quickly to the changing-rooms and attire yourself for the fray. You -will be just in time for the second half.” - -“But I ... I ... I can’t play _this_ game.” - -“You will soon learn,” said Toby consolingly. “Time was I didn’t know -how to play it.” He turned. “You see that boy over there in the long -knickerbockers? That boy’s name is Henry Hope. That boy will _never_ -learn how to play Rugby football. He has every disadvantage. For one -thing he is short-sighted. He cannot distinguish one jersey from -another. He tackles his own side. It doesn’t matter. He plays the game -just the same and he says that it does him good. You’ll find the same.” -He turned to Rouse. “You’d better take this young sportsman to the -changing-rooms and fit him out with togs.” - -Rouse moved alertly to the fat boy’s side and piloted him out of the -crowd and rapidly across the field towards the changing-rooms; and as he -went he bubbled to himself delightedly. He turned at last and regarded -the unhappy Arthur. - -Arthur’s trousers were short and very tight. The sleeves of his coat -reached midway between the elbow and the wrist, the buttons of his -waistcoat were straining in the leash, and his neck bulged over the top -of his collar. The pace was too much for him. He began to pant. - -“You’ll feel better with your clothes off,” said Rouse encouragingly. -“Hold your breath for just a few minutes longer; you’ll be able to let -off steam properly as soon as you’re unfastened ... and you _will_ look -bonny in shorts.” - -He chuckled. - -“What is going to happen?” demanded Arthur. “What are they going to make -me do?” - -“_Run_,” said Rouse hoarsely. - -“Shall I be thrown to the ground like those other boys?” - -“You will be thrown to the dogs,” was the immediate answer. - -“Oh, but it’s such a _rough_ game. I shall be hurt.” - -“What? _You?_ Never!” Rouse assured him. “Everybody who falls on you -will think you’re an air cushion.” - -Further bursts of laughter reached them from across the open, and they -turned. To the fat boy’s satisfaction other stragglers were being led in -his own track. There was a tall thin boy, and a square boy with hair -like hay, and an ordinary-looking boy and an extraordinary-looking boy. -They had all been sorted out. He supposed they had all been laughing. -Arthur turned back. His world was very drear. He was filled with acute -foreboding. They had reached the changing-room. He was led in. Here, so -far as those who were waiting on the touch-line were concerned, the -curtain fell. At last it was lifted again. The sight was astounding. -Arthur was being led back. Behind him came the other boys who had -laughed so heartily, but they were unimportant. Arthur held the eye. His -extraordinary fatness was now entirely disclosed. Wherever it was -possible to bulge Arthur bulged. And his eyes were bulging most of all. - -Rouse held him by the arm. Evidently he had had some difficulty in -fitting Arthur out, but he was apparently well pleased with the result. - -Toby met them and spent a few moments in outlining the theory of the -game for Arthur’s benefit. Arthur nodded his head dolefully. It was -clear that he had not another laugh left in his system. Also he looked -cold. - -He was led on to the field. The other new-comers were sorted out and -instructed to replace some of those who had had enough of it. Then the -whistle blew. There came a thump of a boot meeting leather and the ball -was sailing towards Arthur. For just one second Arthur regarded it -stiffly, transfixed with horror, then he turned and ran rapidly in the -other direction. There was a howl of derision. Arthur turned. There was -no way of escape. The ball was bouncing after him. It was like a -nightmare. From all sides of the field boys were rushing towards it. He -gave one choking cry, threw up his hands and fell heavily on his face. -Next moment a swarm of forwards had crowded round him and were packing -down over his prostrate body. Somebody seized him by the leg and pulled -him out of the way. He rose and looked round him with wild eyes. His -hair was ruffled. There was mud upon his nose. - -Rouse came up and explained to him what he ought to have done. He looked -at Rouse dazedly. Rouse inserted him bodily into the scrum, head down, -and told him to push. - -He fell on his face. Rouse picked him up, and he tottered and fell on -his back. The game went on and left him there. Rouse shouted to him, and -he rose and stood for a moment with boggling eyes and nodding head, -thinking. Toby pointed into the distance and spoke cheering words. - -“Chase after it, man! Scoot! Catch ’em up!” - -He began to trot foolishly up the field, with Rouse behind him. And then -suddenly the ball came sailing towards him again and dropped directly on -to his chest. He clutched at it as if for support and Rouse let loose a -loud shout of delight. - -“NOW! You’re off. Nothing can stop you!” He whipped him gently into a -gallop. - -As if suddenly imbued with the spirit of the game Arthur began to show -determination. A boy flew at him. Arthur handed him off with violence. - -“_Let_ me alone!” he cried, suddenly very wrath. - -Another essayed to tackle him. Arthur struggled clear of his grasp but -overbalanced and let go the ball. - -Immediately another boy had sprung forward and gathered it. - -Arthur shot after him. He suddenly understood. Everybody was against -him. He had to get the ball and everybody was trying to steal it away. -The sole idea of the game was that he should be allowed to run about the -field holding the ball, and they were all cheating. They wouldn’t let -him do it. He caught the thief by his jersey and tugged him back. - -His fierce cries sounded across the field. - -“Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to _me_!” - -He had nearly got it. Somebody pulled him back, and he struggled in his -grasp. - -“Let me to the ball,” he besought, sobbing with bitterness. “Oh, _let_ -me to the ball.” - -So they stood back and let him to the ball. Rouse had signed to them. - -He had it at last. - -He smiled gleefully. He begun to trot up the field like a pup with a -slipper. He looked from side to side as if for applause, began to raise -his knees higher and higher from the ground. Rouse ran joyously beside -him, pointing out the distant goal-line as if it were a promised land -and instructing him what to do. - -He was delighted beyond measure. He did not know that everybody was -standing about the field watching him go, and trying to throttle -hysteric laughter. He thought that he was the hero of the hour. At last -they were nearly there. It was a good thing because he was beginning to -puff. - -[Illustration: - - “HE BEGAN TO TROT UP THE FIELD LIKE A PUP WITH A - SLIPPER.”] - -“Put it on that line,” said Rouse. “Put it down there, then touch it -down.” - -He had arrived. He bent obediently and did as he was bid. - -“There you are,” said Rouse happily. “You’ve scored a try.” - -Arthur turned and looked round and about. Everywhere boys were throwing -caps into the air and cheering. It was a great moment. Toby had come up -and seemed to be speaking to him, but in the wild noise of applause he -could not distinguish a word. He grinned broadly. - -At last the thunder of cheers died down. - -“That’s Rugger,” said Toby. “It’s a great game. Don’t you think so? -You’ll play it all your life now. That’s your first game and you’ll -never forget it.” - -He never did. Nobody who learns Rugger at Harley ever does. - - * * * * * - -The boy who had sat in the corner had been learning Rugger that -afternoon too, and as he walked slowly off the field a tall fellow, -considerably older than he, came up and touched him on the arm. - -“What on earth are _you_ doing here?” - -Bobbie Carr looked up, then slowly seemed to remember, and to the other -it appeared that he turned a little pale. At first he made no answer. He -just looked. Eventually he turned away. - -The other still held his arm. - -“D’you mean to say your father has sent you to a public school?” said -he. - -He was not a nice-looking fellow. He had a remarkably long and -disproportionate nose. Also his lips had a sarcastic turn. His name was -Coles. - -“This is _good_,” said he, and gave a short laugh. “I must write and -tell the gov’nor about this. He’ll be awfully amused. What do you think -the fellows here will say when they know what your father is?” - -Bobbie Carr looked straight up at him, but there was a queer look of -anxiety on his face. - -“They’re not going to know,” said he at last. “I’ve promised I wouldn’t -say.” - -“I should think so,” said Coles. “You won’t be very happy here when they -find out he’s a——” - -A figure came up suddenly from behind and moved between them. A large -hand rested upon Bobbie’s shoulder. - -“Well, sonny,” said Rouse. “How did _you_ enjoy it?” - - - - - CHAPTER III - COMING EVENTS - - -The new Headmaster of Harley was a man of considerable importance and an -overpowering belief in himself; for which reason he formed hasty -opinions, and having once formed them believed them to be correct for -ever afterwards. In appearance he was not unlike a bloodhound in -spectacles, and his manner was appropriately grim. - -The first case that came before his notice was that of Arthur, and he -dealt with it in person. “Because,” said he, “at Wilton I had the -reputation of knowing each boy individually, and I should like to know -each boy here as soon as I possibly can.” - -The railway company had reported that Arthur had had the audacity to -travel upon their line without a ticket, and Arthur was accordingly -brought in and required to furnish his explanation of the outrage. This -he did in the most heart-rending manner, with second-hand sort of tears -spurting from his eyes all the time, and with such effect that, after -listening to his pitiable tale, the new Head became convinced that he -had been set upon in the train by a cowardly ruffian belonging to the -school, and apparently even a prefect of it, who had wrenched his ticket -from him by brute force and torn it to shreds before his very eyes. -Arthur went so far as to give detailed information. The felon’s name was -Rouse. He had introduced himself. And he was a friend of a boy called -Nicholson, whose brother was a master at school. - -The new Head sent him away with a comforting pat on the shoulder and -settled himself down to consider a fitting punishment for the scoundrel -who could do such a thing. - -Now as luck would have it, that afternoon he was standing in majesty -beside his window, looking out upon the kingdom he had come to govern, -when his eye lighted upon a Rugby game in progress upon a distant -football ground, and he suddenly came to an abrupt decision. - -“At Wilton,” he told the bursar, “I had the reputation of only going out -to watch games when I was least expected to do so.” - -He nodded his head pleasantly. - -He would take the boys of Harley completely by surprise. He moved -swiftly to the door and disappeared. - -As a matter of fact it was, in the result, he himself who was taken by -surprise, and he returned with a dour expression and sent for Mr -Nicholson. - -Toby appeared before him in due course. - -It was immediately clear to Toby that in Dr Roe he perceived a gentleman -with a strong sense of dramatic effect, and he now stood by and prepared -to watch what he imagined would be a very powerful piece of acting, -indicating wrath. - -The Head was, however, deep in thought, and whilst Toby waited he -noticed several little things, the first of which was that the carpet -did not match the colouring of the new Headmaster’s nose. He also -noticed that Dr Roe’s handwriting sloped backwards, which he knew for a -bad sign in any man. He then adjusted the hang of his trousers, blew his -nose, wiped his eyes, and commenced to count the roses on one square -yard of the wall-paper, first with one eye and then with the other. -Finding that the result was the same in each case, and deducing -therefrom that his sight was still good, he cleared his throat and -approached the wall with a view to observing school life from a window. - -As soon as he had turned Dr Roe broke into speech, thus to Toby’s mind -having him at a disadvantage from the start. When Toby distrusted a man -he liked to look in his eye all the time. - -The new Head rose slowly to his feet, lifted one hand until it was a -suitable height from the table, clenched it and brought it down with a -bang upon a large book. He then lifted his hand again, shook his finger -at Toby as if in reproach, and began to speak rapidly. - -“Only this morning,” said he, “I had a little boy before me who had -undoubtedly come up against a bully. He was terrified. He came in here -and cried.... He had been set upon in the train and robbed of his -ticket. At Wilton I had the reputation of being a lightning judge of -character and an infallible one, and I can tell you at once that this -boy was undoubtedly speaking the truth. In ten minutes’ conversation I -came to know him as well as he knew himself, and I shall watch over him -henceforward with interest.” He paused. “I decided,” said he, “to delay -punishment of the offender a short while and to get to know more about -this bully whilst he still had no reason to suppose that his conduct was -known to me. I may tell you that at Wilton I had the reputation of -knowing how to wait.” - -This seemed to Toby a very useful second string to any man’s bow. -Dismissed from the post of Headmaster, Dr Roe would at least be able to -find lucrative employment in a smart restaurant. - -However, he made no comment. - -“This afternoon,” continued the Head, “I went out to watch the boys -playing football. Certainly I did not arrive till after half time, but I -may tell you that to my mind the game I then witnessed was mere -tomfoolery—a burlesque, sir—deliberate clowning.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Toby cheerfully. “It was the first game of the term. -New-comers sides.” - -“Then, perhaps, you will tell me,” said the new Head somewhat hotly, -“the name of the presumably senior boy—a fellow in a tasselled cap -anyway—whose whole object was to get in people’s way and interfere in -the game as much as possible, and who did it, moreover, purely to vent -his spite against the very boy who was before me this morning?” - -“You mean Rouse,” said Toby. “He’s captain of foot——” - -The Head rose up and made a fiery gesture. - -“I knew it,” said he. “I knew it. They used to say at Wilton that my -sense of instinct was uncanny—they used to say that I always guessed -right. I guessed right this afternoon. As soon as I saw that little boy -being pursued about the grass I knew it was Rouse.... I knew the little -fellow had been speaking the truth. Rouse, Mr Nicholson, was the name of -the fellow who tore up his ticket on the journey from London.” He paused -sensationally. “It may be,” said he, “that you were engrossed with your -duties as referee this afternoon. Possibly you did not notice that -feature of the game which was most evident to me. Throughout the twenty -minutes that I was there the fellow Rouse was on the little boy’s track -without respite. I personally saw him viciously cane the lad on the -field, and a worse example of flagrant bullying has seldom come before -my notice.” - -Toby cleared his throat and began to explain. - -“I don’t care one atom about custom,” said the Head, when he had -listened thirty seconds. “I may be new to this school but I am not an -idiot. Public School customs are in constant abuse—take this very -example. You teach Rugby football with a switch. The first thing that I -notice is that a senior boy, against whom evidence has already been -laid, is deliberately using his switch to terrorise a little boy.” - -“Oh no,” said Toby, with a polite smile. “You’re——” - -The Head made another gesture. - -“Oh _yes_,” said he, with considerable force. “Surely I can use my own -eyes!” - -Toby began again. - -“Don’t argue, Mr Nicholson,” said Dr Roe. “At Wilton I had the -reputation of rarely showing my temper, but of showing it very -thoroughly when it was roused. And it is roused now. Do you mean to tell -me that this boy is actually captain of football?” - -“Yes,” said Toby mildly; “and a very good captain too. He’s one of the -most popular boys in the school.” - -The Head was somewhat taken aback. - -“Well, at all events,” said he, “I don’t remember noticing him in the -Sixth Form.” - -It was an awkward point. Toby moved slightly upon his feet. He was not -going to confess that Rouse was one of the school’s pet dunces. - -“He’s not in the Sixth Form yet,” said he. - -The Head clapped his hands and sprang nimbly from one foot to the other. - -“Then,” said he, “how can he be _captain of football_ if he’s not even a -_prefect_?” - -“He is a prefect. The late Headmaster specially wished him to be. He -knew that he would be captain of football this term, and he considered -it would be a very good thing indeed for the boy’s character. Of course -the captain of each sport here is a prefect _ex officio_, whether he’s -in the Sixth or not, and the Head wished him to have a full term as a -prefect before he became captain of Rugger.” - -The Head considered this point with a portentous frown, and at last he -looked up at Toby and said: - -“I think you had better know at once that those are not my principles. -To my mind the boy who leads the school team on to the field of play -should be the boy who is captain of the school, and if by any chance he -himself is not a very keen footballer, then the next senior boy should -take his place. Boys have to be made to learn that being able to kick a -football in a certain direction with a certain force is not everything -in life. And they learn that best if they find that a boy is not allowed -to be captain of football unless he is also one of the most senior boys -in the Sixth Form.” - -He paused and sat down like one who is conscious of having performed a -righteous duty. Toby began to go hot and cold all over. - -“Every school has its unwritten laws, sir,” he began. “It has always -been the understanding here that each game is captained by the boy who -is best or most senior at it, irrespective of his scholastic ability.” - -The Head grew visibly annoyed. - -“I have already told you that I do not agree with that principle, Mr -Nicholson,” said he; “and to-morrow I shall visit this boy’s form and -question him on his general knowledge. It remains to be seen from the -opinion I then form whether I consider him a suitable boy to remain a -prefect under my headmastership, or to lead the school on the football -field. I must say that from the judgment I formed of him this afternoon -he is most unsuitable for those duties.” - -Toby essayed a protest. - -“But, sir,” said he, “this boy has been elected by the school.... He is -their chosen captain.” - -Dr Roe rose in his majesty. Unfortunately he was a man of somewhat -ordinary build, and as against Toby, therefore, he did not in this -respect cut much ice. He lifted his hand above his head, and bringing it -slowly horizontal, indicated Toby with a bunch of fingers. - -“Mr Nicholson,” said he, “whilst I am Headmaster of this school no boy -is elected to any position without my authority. I have been a -schoolmaster all my life, and at Wilton I had the reputation of making -sometimes apparently ruthless decisions and of sticking to them through -thick and thin. I do not crave popularity.... I have strong ideas and a -strong will. If necessary the boys here will be made to understand that -at once. It may save considerable heart burnings afterwards.” - -He paused and glared at Toby as if in challenge. Toby declined with -thanks. It was clear that he would not improve matters by saying more at -the moment. There was a brief silence. At last the new Head looked up. - -“There is another thing,” said he. “I like games to be taken seriously. -Such frivolity as I saw this afternoon tends to have a very bad effect -upon a boy. I hope you will bear that in mind in future games which you -conduct.” - -Toby drew a deep breath. - -“I think you will understand better, sir,” said he, “if you will listen -to me for a moment. The boy that you think was being terrorised had been -laughing as loudly as any boy possibly could throughout the first half, -whilst other boys with a better spirit were learning to play.” - -“Well,” said the Head crossly, “considering he was crying only this -morning, why shouldn’t he laugh? I am very glad to know that his talk -with me had so reassured him.” - -“It is a bad thing,” said Toby, “for boys who are learning a game to be -laughed at from the touch-line by those who don’t care to try it -themselves. Rugby football is compulsory at this school, and that fact -has a very excellent effect. It was I who told him to come on and play. -There was no bullying.” - -“My dear Nicholson,” said Dr Roe, “I have been a schoolmaster longer -probably than you have been alive. Do you really think that I do not -know a bully when I see one?” - -Toby endeavoured to retain his calm. - -“It is possible to be mistaken.” - -“I am not mistaken,” snapped the other. - -“But you see, sir,” insisted Toby, “you haven’t even spoken to Rouse.” - -“Because,” said Dr Roe, “I wish to learn all I possibly can about him -before I do. I have spoken to the other lad, and I am satisfied that he -is telling the truth. I have seen this fellow Rouse making himself a -clown at a football match, and I have learnt from you that, although he -has been five years at the school, he is not yet in the Sixth Form. It -is clear that you have a good opinion of him yourself, but you are, -after all, a young man, Nicholson.” - -“What has that to do with it?” asked Toby smilingly. - -“Well ... I understand,” said the other, “that this boy is the bosom -chum of your own brother; and it is therefore not unlikely that he is a -friend of your own....” He looked at Toby searchingly. “Under these -circumstance, I cannot altogether expect that your good opinion of him -is entirely unprejudiced.” - -“Then,” said Toby, “why did you trouble to ask my opinion, sir?” - -“I sent for you,” said the Head, “because you are games master, and I -want to tell you that I do not approve of such buffoonery as took place -during the game this afternoon.” - -Toby’s natural inclination was to bow politely and ask leave to pack his -bag. But it was at just such a time as this that his love for Harley -grew most profound. So he kept silent, and he stood for a moment looking -at the new Headmaster thoughtfully and as clearly in pity as he deemed -polite. - -“Do you wish to see Rouse?” said he at last. - -“Certainly I shall see Rouse—but I shall not see him here. At Wilton I -had the reputation of never doing the expected. I shall walk across to -his house and speak to his house master. Then I shall visit him in his -study. When you are older, Nicholson, you will know that it is in his -own haunts, and when he is not expecting visitors, that you find animal -or man as he really is.” - -Toby’s heart sank. He looked dismally into the future and he could see -no sunshine at all. With a Headmaster like this there could be no hope. -It was going to be a lean year. - -Well, if it was a question of Harley’s principles going under to a man -who merely sought to make a sensational entry into the school, he would -have to fight. And in the immediate future he would have to fight for -Rouse. So in his mind’s eye he made a few movements as of a sailor about -to start a hornpipe and followed the Headmaster out of the room. Dr Roe -turned. - -“That will be all, Mr Nicholson, thank you,” said he. “I will go alone.” - - - - - CHAPTER IV - A SLIGHT MISTAKE - - -The procession came down the corridor and stopped outside a small door. -It was headed by a tall boy, as thin as a match-stick, and with a face -so tiny that it seemed to be almost entirely hidden behind a pair of -enormous spectacles which he wore tied round his ears with knotted -elastic bands. Behind this boy came another of his own age, but less -extraordinary in appearance, and behind them, in their turn, came Rouse -and Terence Nicholson. The boy in spectacles rejoiced in the name of -Henry Hope, and he claimed to have been the devoted admirer of Rouse and -Terence longer than anybody else in the school. Certainly no other boy -would have dared to go and roust the captain of Rugby football out of -his sanctum merely in the hope that he would set right a small minor -trouble of his own. It is true that the fact that Rouse happened to be -the said captain made a certain difference. Rouse was everybody’s friend -and particularly the friend of unhappy juniors. But what made the chief -difference was the fact that one of the boys in trouble on this -particular occasion was Henry Hope. - -Henry drew his crony aside, and they stood for a moment looking at the -two seniors in turn with eyes that shone with admiration, until at last -Rouse spoke. - -“Yes,” said he. “This is the one all right. No. 18, the list said. There -can’t be any mistake.” - -“Are you sure that it said No. 18?” asked Terence modestly. “Seems -rather odd.” - -“My good sir,” responded Rouse, “there is no doubt about it.” - -He moved forward and opened the door. Terence came up alongside and they -stood for a moment regarding the interior. - -“Well, it isn’t a bad one,” said Terence at last. - -Rouse regarded him with deep sorrow. - -“You _are_ a sunny child.” - -“Sunny?” - -Rouse nodded his head. - -“You look on the bright side, the side that jolly well isn’t there. -Myself, I cannot conceive how by any freak of fancy Henry could possibly -have secured a worse hovel than this. It is the first time he’s ever had -a study, and now he’s got one that they’ve forgotten about so long that -it’s gone to seed. There’s moss growing on the very walls—_moss_, I tell -you. Look at the fireplace. It’s a kind of ‘Spiders’ Retreat.’ They say -there’s no study for him, and then after three days they say there is, -and they give him one—_this_—a kennel in the attic. There’s not a stick -of furniture in it. True, there’s a picture postcard on the mantelpiece -depicting some phase of life in a foreign clime—a man in a red fez -picking hops, I think it is. You’ll probably find it’s addressed to some -fellow who’s since died of old age. And it’s the only sign that there’s -ever been any life in the place at all. I do not see even a modern nail -anywhere in the wall to hang your hat on. There’s probably an official -ghost attached to this study. The place is absolutely mouldy. The -ceiling has caved in and the walls have warped, and the fellows who’ve -had studies near here at odd times during the last forty years have been -in on organised raids and pinched every blessed thing.” He paused at -last for breath. “And you,” he said presently, “you—always the -gentleman—you—such a one with your joking ways—you open the door and -look inside, and then you throw back your head and intone the following -words: ‘It isn’t a bad one.’ - -“Well, it’s better than not having a study at all.” - -“_Indeed_ it is,” admitted Rouse. “How nice it will be to sit in here on -one’s bowler hat, drinking cold tea out of a glove.” - -“We’ll rake round for a table for him,” suggested Terence hopefully. - -“Yes, and the only way you’ll get one at this period will be by sucking -the multiplication table off the back of an exercise-book. It’s three -days since term started, my dear old bean.” - -Terence persisted. - -“I’ve got some photographs in my bag,” said he. “We’ll put them up.” - -“Put ’em up? Easier to put them up than for poor old Henry to put up -with them. He’ll get pretty weary sitting in here never more than -eighteen inches away from his partner as it is. Is his only relaxation -to be a turning of the head to gaze upon your likeness on the walls?” - -“They aren’t photographs of me.” - -“Whom, then, do they portray?” - -“One,” responded Terence, with every modesty, “portrays Phyllis Dare in -evening dress.” - -“Right,” said Rouse more kindly. “Put it up then. Have you any other -delight you can stick on the wall for him?” - -“Not in _my_ pocket at this moment. But I’ll go and see Toby. He might -be able to produce something. If not, perhaps he can hire a bit of -furniture.” - -“A piano, perchance,” said the other. “There’s plenty of room.” - -“Anyway,” said Terence, “I’ll go and see him. Probably he can suggest -something.” - -“Very well, my child; and if you see anybody who seems to be at a loose -end at all whilst you’re gone, ask him to come back and have a really -comfortable sit-down with Henry and a nice cup of hot tea.” - -Terence moved away obediently, and when he had gone Rouse took one final -look at the study, tossed his head and then, coming to a sudden -decision, bade Henry stay there with his friend and wait; then he walked -rapidly away down the corridor in search of the house porter, an -individual for whose resource he had considerable admiration, partly -because he could put lighted matches into his mouth and clench his teeth -without putting out the light. - -The house porter, who had been at the school only a little over twelve -months, was one of those gentlemen that are described in police court -reports as “of military appearance,” which means to say that his hair -was dressed in that fashion known as a cowlick, and that his moustache -was waxed. On hot days, however, this wax used to melt, giving his face -a somewhat mournful and untidy appearance. His name was Compton, and at -the moment when Rouse burst in upon him he was sitting on a stool in his -private den, his knees hunched up under his chin and his eyes fixed -rigidly upon the letterpress of a paper-covered novel which he was -clutching earnestly in his fists. He did not at once look up, and when -eventually he sensed the presence of an intruder he seemed a trifle -annoyed. Nevertheless, Rouse greeted him with a variety of graceful -gestures before he eventually said his say. - -“Acting upon information received,” he explained, “Mr Nicholson and I -have just prised open the door of the study allotted to a little boy -called Hope, with a view to inspecting its desirability as a residence; -and all we have found inside is the portrait of a man in a red fez -picking hops.” - -He paused and coughed deprecatingly behind his hand as if loath to -complain. Compton looked at him dazedly. Clearly he had not yet -thoroughly extricated himself from that romantic world in which men live -perpetually in evening dress and speak glibly of their college days. He -rose and laid down his novel with a sigh. - -“The incident has somewhat unnerved my friend Nicholson,” said Rouse -apologetically, “also the boy Hope, and I was quite unable to persuade -either of them to come and consult with you. I myself thought that you, -if you could, would aid the lad in his dire extremity. You might even be -able to tell him where he could find something to sit on—anything would -do so long as it hasn’t too many rusty nails in it.” He reached out and -indicated Compton’s stool suggestively. “That, for example,” said he, -“would suit excellently. We have the whole evening before us, and it -would be very enjoyable indeed for him to have a good sit-down after his -game of football.” - -Compton turned and looked first at his stool and then at Rouse. - -“What is it you want, sir?” he inquired somewhat uncertainly. - -“It’s a study,” said Rouse. “There’s no furniture in the place at all.” - -“Study?” repeated the patient fellow. “But ain’t there a table and a -couple of chairs in it? Surely——” He began to fondle his chin. “Why, -every study has a table and a couple of chairs.” - -“I expect this one did have a long time ago,” said Rouse, “but if so -they must have died in infancy.” - -“They may have been stole.” - -Rouse considered this point with care. - -“Of course,” said he at last, “it’s only a hole in the attic that I’m -talking about. It may not be on your list of studies at all. To the -naked eye it looks more like a family vault in some cheap cemetery.” - -Compton produced a pipe, filled it, and struck a match; then he made his -confession. - -“Well, I can give you a table and a couple of chairs. As a matter o’ -fac’ I’ve got some spare, and I’ve been wondering for a long time which -study they belongs to. Over and over again I’ve reckoned up all the -studies, on the fingers of my ’ands, and then all the tables and chairs, -and they never come right. There was always a set over.” - -Rouse’s face cleared instantly. He held out his hand. - -“I warmly congratulate you, Compton,” said he. “Let me pilot you to the -place forthwith. You had better bring some sandwiches and a bottle of -beer with you, as it’s rather a distance and you might be glad of some -light refreshment half way.” - -He paused as they were about to leave and cast one last look round the -little room. - -“Compton,” said he, “would it be too much to ask whether you could lend -Master Hope your little stove for the afternoon? To-morrow everything -will be in full swing and he will be serving a cut from the joint with -two vegetables from his own fireplace practically without cessation all -day. But we must give the organisation time to settle down. We should -not like you to have to hump along a sack of coal to-day, for example. -But we should very much like to have a cup of tea with Hope in his -sanctum, and as a matter of fact a few friends are visiting him.” - -Compton cast a glance over his shoulder. - -“I’ll give him a bit of coal,” said he. “If it’s a little place in the -attic he’s going into he’ll want a bit of a fire in there to dry the -place up and vent’late it a bit.” - -“It would, I am sure, be enough,” said Rouse, “if you could only give -him a bit of red carpet to warm his cold feet on.” - - * * * * * - -When at last they all met again, the expression on the face of each made -an interesting study. Henry Hope was characteristically grave, and he -stood with his crony watching Rouse with the eyes of a faithful dog. -Terence was last to return, and he wore the expression of one who has -some secret joy, whilst Rouse himself, who had been working exceedingly -hard, looked hot and untidy. Nevertheless, his eyes were shining with -the light of intense self-satisfaction. It was clear that he was itching -to deliver himself of a few well-chosen words such as might indicate to -his listeners the peculiar ingenuity of those things which he had -achieved. In matters that concerned Henry Rouse was not a prefect at -all; he was just an old friend. Henry Hope had more than once saved -Rouse’s skin, and in spite of his great place in the school Rouse did -not forget these little things. He welcomed Terence with an excited -gesture, and then clapped a hand on his shoulder and peered tensely into -his face. - -“You’ve hardly changed at all,” said he. “The same old crooked eyes, the -same solitary tooth projecting over your underlip, the same old passion -socks! It seems scarcely any time since you went a-way-ee, and yet ... -what do you notice in me? A suspicion of grey in the hair?” - -“A suspicion of egg on the mouth, if anything.” - -Rouse was a trifle taken aback. - -“What’s the matter anyway?” asked Terence. - -“You’ve been gone such a deuce of a long time. That’s the matter. And -never so much as a line to your own folk to let them know how you were -getting on. Even now you’ve brought nothing.” - -“Yes, I have brought along a friend.” - -“A friend?” repeated the other scornfully. “What’s he going to sit on, -pray?” He waited a moment, then reached out and tapped Terence upon the -chest. “You see in me,” he opined, “one whose ingenuity is unsurpassed -throughout the length and breadth of four continents, and it is very -fortunate indeed for you that your friend Rouse is such a highbrow. -Whilst you have been away I have set the whole thing right. Compton and -I have just this moment completed the work. What was a short time ago a -kind of expanded egg-box is now a comfortably furnished apartment. True, -Henry will have to crawl in on his hands and knees to avoid braining -himself on the ceiling, but what of that? It merely prevents surprise -visits from beaks. And the main idea is to secure comfort when once he’s -in. This I have done. Henry Hope did not appeal in vain. Compton has -provided him with a complete suite of furniture—to wit, half a brace of -table and a brace of chairs. The walls are now placarded with -photographs of people found drowned—cuttings from old _Daily Mirrors_. -We have propped up the ceiling with a baulk of timber and we have -kindled a fire. We have put the fellow in the red fez who was picking -hops right out of his misery, and we have drained off some of the pools -of water that you noticed on the floor and put pieces of sacking in -their place. As soon as he likes he can move in.” He paused as if for -congratulation. - -“There’s one thing I’d like to say,” observed his friend, “only one -thing, and I think you ought to be told at once.” - -“Well?” - -“That place,” said Terence severely, “is not his study at all.” - -Rouse peered at him like a man who has received a severe punch below the -belt. - -“You were so insistent about it that I imagined for once you knew what -you were talking about. But no. Whenever you do anything which at first -sight seems clever there’s always a catch in it somewhere. As a matter -of fact, Henry’s study is No. 8, and it’s on the first floor. It’s the -one Masham and Loates had last term, and it’s as cosy as any place in -the house.” - -“Here,” said Rouse, passing a hand through his hair. “Look here, what do -you mean? That list said No. 18, and No. 17, which is along there, is -the last number. Isn’t this the only place like a study that’s anywhere -near it?” - -“The list,” retorted Terence firmly, “said No. 8. It was you that told -Henry it was No. 18.” - -There was a silence. - -At last Rouse made a passionate gesture. - -“You mean to say, then,” said he, “that all my foresight and resource, -all my ingenuity, all my travail, are without value of any kind? Do all -my plans leave you cold? Are you suggesting that all the timber that I -have scouted out should now merely be sold to defray expenses?” - -He stopped and eyed the others wrathfully. - -“You meant well,” confessed Terence—“you always do—but if I were you I -should say no more about it. Compton may be rather annoyed when he finds -all his trouble was due to a howling bloomer.” - -He beckoned gravely, turned, and began to move down the corridor -followed by his train. - -At last Rouse spoke. - -“Tell me,” said he, “who is your friend—the friend you so very kindly -brought? I should like to kick somebody, and it might as well be him.” - -“It’s the kid called Carr,” said Terence over his shoulder. “He seems -rather a decent kid, so I told him to come along and be introduced to -Henry and eat some cake in his new study. He waits within.” - -“Waits within?” repeated Rouse. “If he takes my advice he’ll wait -without. It’ll get him used to the idea that he’ll have to go without.” - -“As a matter of fact he’s minding the kettle.” - -“Kettle, indeed? Is there going to be a dish of tea then?” - -“Yes, of course there is. I’ve been getting it ready.” - -“You’ve fixed up a sort of christening breakfast, have you?” - -He nodded his head thoughtfully. It occurred to him that in his quiet -way Terence generally did fix up things. - -He grunted. - -“H’m,” said he. “Most ingenious of you. I’m sure Henry Hope is indeed -lucky in his friends.” - -Terence smiled modestly and opened the door of No. 8, whereupon Rouse -walked in and looked round with a contemptuous sniff. - -“This,” said he, “looks like a prison cell. It’ll make Henry feel -absolutely homesick.” - -“Homesick?” - -“Certainly. That little den upstairs was a veritable home from home.” - -“Why, dash it all, man, you said it was——” - -“Never mind what I said,” retorted Rouse. “I’d grown to love that -place.” - -Terence burst out laughing. - -At last Rouse smiled. - -“Well, well, I suppose he may as well abide here as abide there. The -great thing was to ensure that Henry was not being wronged in any way. -Everything is now to the good, thanks to myself. Hullo, Carr, how are -you? Hold out your fist, and that tall, well-set-up young fellow with -the opera-glasses stuck on his face will slap a piece of cake into it. -That is Henry Hope. Shake him heartily by the hand. He is one of the -phenomena of Harley. People come miles to see what he carries behind -those spectacles of his. You will grow to love Henry.... Who are you -going to fag for?” - -The little boy looked up. - -“I don’t know yet,” said he. “There was some mix-up over the studies and -things.” - -“I can tell you,” put in Terence. “I saw the list half-an-hour ago. -You’re going to fag for Coles.” - -At first the effect that this news had upon Bobbie Carr passed -unnoticed. The others were too busy dissecting cake to wonder why he -made no answer at all. But at last Terence looked up and saw that he was -sitting stiffly on his chair and staring at him. - -“Is that right?” said he at last, and his voice sounded very small. - -“That’s right,” said Terence. “Yes. Do you know Coles?” - -For a moment he did not answer. Wild thoughts were scurrying across his -mind. He was suddenly very afraid. He did not want them to know that he -knew Coles at all, and yet—— - -“Rather bad luck,” said Rouse, talking with his mouth full. “Coles isn’t -a man I’d care to fag for.” - -“Anyway,” said Terence, turning and speaking under his breath, “it’ll -show what he’s made of. We’ll see how he tackles it. If we find Coles is -giving him too thick a time we’ll get him swopped with somebody else.” - -“Yes,” said Rouse, “and also hit Coles sharply in the eye, a practice I -delight in.” - -He turned. - -A knock had come upon the door, and it was swinging with stately dignity -upon its hinges. In turn each boy rose to his feet and looked towards it -suspiciously. Slowly, and at last, Toby Nicholson appeared upon the -threshold. He looked round the assembled company with an air of relief. -Next he saw Bobbie Carr, and wondered why he was sitting so oddly still -and looking so scared. Then his wandering eyes discovered Rouse and -settled upon him gravely. Lastly he moved forward. - -“Have you seen the new Head? He hasn’t been in here, has he?” - -Terence shook his head, but Rouse took a pace forward and slapped his -thigh several times with the palm of his hand. - -“Now that you remind me of it, sir,” said he delightedly, “I certainly -have seen him—and in this house.” He turned to Terence. “In the stress -of events,” said he, “I quite forgot to tell you. It was whilst I was -carrying the table upstairs for Henry, and my only regret now is that I -was not at the time balancing it upon my chin. What happened was this: -Compton was following behind with his chairs, and to cheer him upon his -way we were singing a sort of part-song together. In reality he was -mumbling a ditty and I was singing seconds in a loud clear voice that -was fairly making the rafters ring. I had the table in front of my face -and naturally I couldn’t see where I was going, but just as I got to the -landing the door of Mr Morley’s room opened and a man came out like a -shot from a gun—just as if somebody’s boot was behind him. Intent upon -my task I went blithely on, and I hit that man immediately in the -waistcoat good and hard with the leg of the table. If he was coming to -tell me about my singing it must have hurt his sense of pride very -considerably, also his sense of pain.” Rouse paused. “I thought—you -see,” he explained, “I couldn’t see him properly—and I thought—it was -the man who comes to wind up the clocks. So I didn’t apologise. He could -see where he was going and I couldn’t. I thought, ‘Let him apologise. -It’s up to him to speak first. Why didn’t he look where he was going?’ -As a matter of fact he was leaning weakly against the wall, with one -hand against his waistcoat and the other against his forehead, watching -me stagger by. I took absolutely no notice at all. In point of fact I -went by whistling. When I had gone right past Compton slipped up beside -me and said: ‘I say, sir, that man you ’it—that man was the new -Headmaster. ’E’s lookin’ still, sir.’ I turned round to see. It was -quite true. His eyes were like balls of fire.” - -Terence smiled thoughtfully. - -“He must have felt rather annoyed.” - -“If I hit him as hard as I think I did,” said Rouse, “he must have felt -like a deceased relative.” - -Toby moved forward, then he sat down wretchedly on the edge of the -table. - -“Look here, shipmate,” said he, “do you mean to say that he found you -singing a part-song with the house porter, and that thereupon you hit -him in the ribs with the leg of a table?” - -“The honest truth,” admitted Rouse cheerfully, and passed a moistened -finger solemnly across his throat. “I must have looked like a sweep -too ... hair all tousled ... thick, rich soil all over my hands.... I’d -been digging about in Compton’s store, you see, raking out furniture and -things for our Henry’s study.” - -Toby looked at him forlornly. - -“Well, the new Headmaster,” said he, “came over here entirely to see how -you lived when nobody was looking, and if that’s how he found things -you’ve just about put the lid on it.” - -Rouse looked pained. - -“Why, sir?” - -“Because,” said Toby, coming up beside him and speaking quietly, “he’s -decided you’re not a suitable chap to be captain of Rugby football.” - -The words had the instantaneous effect that Toby knew they would have. -Rouse the clown became abruptly a grown man. He tightened in every -muscle until at last he seemed rigid. Then he looked Toby in the eyes -with quick sincerity. - -“What do you mean, sir?” he said. “What does he——” - -Toby laid a hand upon his shoulder. - -“I met him outside just now,” said he. “I knew something was wrong. He -was white with rage. He could hardly speak. But he says you’re to have -the push—that’s all.” - -There was absolute silence. With lovable tact, Henry Hope had taken the -two boys with him out of the room as soon as he saw that Toby had -something private to say. Terence stood against the mantelpiece and -stared first at one and then at the other, and Rouse just stood before -Toby and looked and looked and looked till he could see nothing at all -but a foolish house of cards that had only come into being in the -morning, and that now, at the end of the day, lay in a tumbled litter -before his eyes. - - - - - CHAPTER V - BREAKERS AHEAD - - -The first significance of it all steadied Rouse in precisely one second, -but for the reality of it to make its real impression needed time, and -in the silence that followed the truth began to tell upon him. - -In the whole history of Harley a Rugger captain elected by the school -had never been turned down by the Headmaster. It would be a lasting -disgrace. In some way that he did not yet understand he had let down the -school. Moreover Rouse had an ideal, and the ideal was not only to be a -great fullback, but to be, in the immediate future, a captain worthy to -lead the team that Harley was going to have this year. To be told that -he was not fit to captain any kind of team at all was no less surprising -than having a bottle broken over his head. If it were true, then he -might just as well be expelled. - -He found himself wondering whether, if this came to pass, fellows would -think he were just such another as Slade, who had been captain of -cricket when he himself was a junior and whom the Grey Man had sacked. -At least Slade had had a chance. To be judged in three days by a man who -had never seen him before in his life did not give him a dog’s chance. -It seemed pretty incredible that any fellow could be condemned like -that, but that the fellow in question should be himself was very nearly -unthinkable. - -To Toby it was not unthinkable. If he had judged Dr Roe aright the new -Head was a man whose first opinion was his last, and who, rather than -have to confess himself in the wrong, would stick to a bad judgment -against all argument, upholding it through thick and thin to the end. It -was clear that he believed in impressing those under him with swift and -irrevocable decisions, thereby instilling into them discipline of a kind -that made those who had to be judged by him afraid to take their chance, -and which consequently kept them on good behaviour. - -There was another reason, too, why he would be a very difficult man to -quarrel with. He was new to the school, and he was the type of man who -would always be able to defeat those who really loved Harley by making -the whole school and the school’s good reputation suffer for the -misdeeds of any one individual. Something of this foreboding must have -shown in Toby’s face, and Rouse saw it. At last he spoke. - -“What is it that’s gone wrong, sir?” said he. “Does he really think I’d -be a dud as a captain—or is it that he just takes me for a general -waster? What is it makes him think it, any way? Surely it’s not just -because I bumped into him with a table?... I would have apologised, as a -matter of fact, only as I say I thought it was the man who comes to wind -up the clocks, and he’s such a disagreeable old bogey that I didn’t -trouble.... He ought to have looked where he was going. A man’s got no -right to shoot out of the wall just as you’re going by with furniture.” - -“It isn’t that at all,” said Toby. “That’s only an additional proof, to -his mind, that what he thinks of you is right. There’s some yarn about a -ticket in the train. _You_ didn’t tear up a new boy’s ticket, did you?” - -Rouse considered a moment. - -“Ticket?” said he at last. “Why, yes, I tore up _one_. What about it? It -wasn’t the right one.” - -He began to explain. - -“Anyway,” said Toby, “it seems that it was the same fellow who laughed -such a lot at the footer game—the fat boy we pulled out to play. And the -Head’s idea is that throughout that game he was terrified of you because -you’re a proper bully.” - -“But that’s all rot,” said Terence sharply. “Why, that fellow can weep -like an ornamental fountain. He nearly broke his heart in the first -place because his pater went off with the wrong ticket, and then Rouse -had the notion that the best thing to do was to tear up the one to -Ealing that he’d been left with so that the people this end wouldn’t -know what station it was for. Of course it went wrong. Rouse’s ideas -always do. The ticket was a different colour from the one for Harley. -But he only did it to help the little ass. Rouse had better go to the -Head and tell him.” - -“I’ll go and tell him myself,” said Toby, “as soon as I’ve got hold of -the details. The trouble is that Rouse has been extraordinarily -prominent during a space of twenty-four hours and the new Head is a man -who makes up his mind at top speed. But it isn’t only that. Rouse’s -manner doesn’t appeal to him either. He wants the captain of Rugger to -be one of the senior boys of the school, and he rather suspects that the -reason Rouse isn’t in the Sixth yet is that he’s a real bad lad. Nor -does he like football conducted by a fellow whose right line is comic -opera. There’s another thing. He’s coming round to visit Rouse in form -to-morrow with the idea of finding out how much he really knows, and,” -he added, turning to Rouse, “I recommend you to sit up and swot to-night -till your eyes stand out from your head like railway buffers, because -it’s just possible that if you can tell him all he wants to know he’ll -be persuaded to move you into the Sixth, which would do away with one of -his grumbles anyway.” - -Rouse looked up wretchedly. - -“That’s hopeless, sir. I’ll work with a wet towel round my nut all the -term, and I’ll honestly try to swell out my forehead and push in amongst -the highbrows and old Terence here, but to expect me to be able to do it -in one night is out of all reason.” - -He stopped and began to look grimly out of the window. At last he pulled -himself together with a jerk and moved towards Terence. - -“Does this really mean I’m not going to be captain of Rugger after all? -Do you think it means that?” - -If his face had been cruelly disfigured he could not have been more -obviously hard hit. He knew as well as any man that when this news -became public property he would have to pretend not to care—especially -before the Rugger Committee. It would be no use behaving like a baby -about it. But at the moment he was alone with those who knew him best, -and so he was not ashamed to show the innermost recesses of his soul, -and it would to an onlooker have seemed impossible to recognise in him -the exuberant humorist of an hour ago. - -“You come along to the study,” said Terence, taking his arm. “Come on, -Toby. We’ll go and thrash this thing out. If he’s not going to let our -best Rugger man be captain of the fifteen he’ll have a good-sized crowd -heaving bricks at his study window in about a couple of hours, and I -shall be amongst the number, with my coat off.” - -They moved out of the study and went slowly and soberly along the -corridor, arm-in-arm, towards Terence’s own room. And, behind them, with -hands in his pockets and a troubled brow, came the man who was typical -of Harley’s best. In the little room, which was cosy with an arm-chair -and curtains, they sat down and faced each other across the table. - -Toby came in and stood by the fireplace. - -Presently Terence leaned forward and indicated Rouse affectionately with -his forefinger. - -“It’s bound to be all right. If he says that any particular man is not -to be captain of footer——” - -“He _has_ said it,” interrupted Toby. “The _IF_ has ceased to count. He -stopped me outside the house and said it as definitely as any man could. -He said: ‘I refuse to sanction the school team being led by a boy like -that. You will arrange immediately for a new election, and you will give -all those concerned clearly to understand that the boy who is chosen is -to be a senior prefect of the Sixth Form.’ It was no use arguing. I’d -nothing to go on except the same arguments as I’d used already. Now that -I know I’ll go round and have it out with him, but if you ask me for the -honest truth—and you’re both fellows who can stand it—I don’t believe -for a moment that he’ll alter his mind. He’s come here with what he -believes to be a reputation, and he’s not going to start by admitting -he’s made a fool of himself. Besides, he’s Headmaster. If he and I were -on equal footing I’d go there with the fixed idea of not coming away -again till he’d given in; but he’s the Head, and if I let myself say too -much I shall be politely told to push off and get a job taking tickets -at a peep-show, which at the moment I don’t intend to do. Now that this -has cropped up I mean to see it through to the finish. There are -breakers ahead, and if we don’t look out the school footer’s going to -suffer pretty severely. A lean year takes a long time to wipe out. It -means not only getting licked every week; it means that the school colts -aren’t being properly brought up, and that means other lean years to -come.” - -“Couldn’t we write to the Grey Man?” suggested Terence. - -“The Grey Man’s ill. And he hasn’t got any say in it now, anyway. This -man’s Headmaster now. All the Grey Man could do would be to give Rouse a -thundering good character, and this fellow would simply light his pipe -with it.” - -Rouse jumped up with sudden passion and threw out his arms. - -“I can’t believe it. I can’t take it in. I’ve lived for this one thing -all the while I’ve been at school. To be captain of Rugger at Harley has -seemed the greatest thing a fellow like me could wish for. I’m not -clever. I’ve got brains that slop about in my head like sodden -tea-leaves. The only thing I can do is play football. Not only that -though. There’s some sort of third-rate talent in me that’s a gift for -organisation, I think. As soon as I knew I was going to be skipper I -began to plan footer for every kind of fellow in the school. While I’ve -been talking of other things, all the time I’m fooling about, I’m really -thinking out house Rugger, and games for colts, and the kind of training -I’ll give the First Fifteen. I’m brim full of it. This man doesn’t -understand. We must give him time.” - -Terence watched him sympathetically. - -“It’s all right. The school won’t let him do a thing like that. There’ll -be a rebellion.” - -“That’s just it,” put in Toby thoughtfully. “It’s something of that sort -I’m afraid of. If it comes to a fight, what’s going to happen to school -footer? We play Greyminster on Saturday week. The team’s got to be -chosen and practised. If we haven’t a captain what’s to be done? Is the -match to be scratched—and if so, how many others will go the same way? -Is it simply going to be an empty season right through the term?” - -“You needn’t worry about that,” answered Rouse, with sudden steadiness. -“If it comes to it, I’ll chuck in. Smythe can be captain. He’s the same -year as I am and he’s secretary as it is.” - -“Smythe is bottom of the Sixth,” answered Terence. “He can’t even add -up.” - -“All right, then, there’s you,” retorted Rouse. “You’ve got plenty of -brains. You’re a prefect. We’ll make you captain.” - -Terence turned on him. - -“If you think I’m going to take on a job that they think is too good for -_you_” he snapped, “you’re a bigger ass than I take you for. What on -earth are you talking about?” - -Toby turned at last to Rouse. - -“I don’t often compliment you,” he observed. “At one time I used to cuff -your head whenever I could reach it, but I’ll tell you now that even you -yourself don’t quite realise what they think of you here. You’re a -little tin god. The team will follow you as they’d follow no other -fellow I know. They don’t want anyone else, and it’s my idea they won’t -have anyone else. The captain of footer has to be elected. That’s -constitutional. They’ve elected _you_. And if the Head doesn’t approve -it’s quite possible for the school to try passive resistance.” - -“How?” - -“What I think is,” said Toby, “that he can search right through the -whole school and he won’t find another fellow anywhere who’ll take it -on—not under these circumstances.” - -“Then he’ll have to give in.” - -“He’ll never give in ... he’s the type that never knows where to draw -the line ... and he thinks he’s strong. He’ll make himself a dictator. -He’ll find some unsuspecting dolt and order him to be captain.” - -“Then there’ll be a rebellion,” said Terence again. “The school won’t -stand it. They absolutely idolise Rouse.” - -Toby spread his hands. - -“Think it over,” said he. “Reason it out. I’m going. If he comes to ask -you comic questions in form to-morrow morning just keep your head and -don’t give anything away. I shan’t see him again to-night. He’s in a bad -temper. I’ll wait till after morning school to-morrow. Then I’ll join -issue with him after he’s visited your form. And above all,” he added -finally, “don’t be downhearted. This turn of events is as bad as it -possibly could be, but you aren’t alone. You’re no end of a dunce, -Rouse, but you’ve got the school behind you, and there’s comfort in -that.” - -They watched him go, and when they were left alone Rouse turned to -Terence and smiled whimsically. - -“Nick, old bird,” said he, “I feel as sick and sorry as a lame dog—but -there’s something in me that won’t lie down. It keeps on shoving up from -under my spirits like bubbly under a cork. And if that old buffer comes -and asks me in the morning how many beans make five, it’s a hundred to -one I shall make the stupid response: ‘The answer is a lemon.’ I just -shan’t be able to help myself.” - - - - - CHAPTER VI - A RISING STAR - - -In the days of his early youth Henry Hope had appeared to those about -him to be an old, old man dressed in an Eton suit. His large rimmed -spectacles had lent him the air of a scholastic genius, and he was, by -habit, pitifully pedantic. In addition he was dignified, and -self-reliant to a fault, and he had no ability of any kind at games. But -at least his heart was in the right place. More than once his meditative -resource had helped Terence and Rouse out of a sad scrape, and -accordingly he was their beloved friend. - -In the course of the last few years he had been growing up—lengthways, -that is to say—and Henry Hope had changed a little from the Henry Hope -of old. In the atmosphere of Harley he had grown rather less of a hermit -and rather more of a boy. He had opened out. He was still totally devoid -of a sense of humour, and he still used grave words both in season and -out, but he had become, in one sense at least, human. He was a devotee -of the cinema. Also he had decided what he was going to be. He was going -to be an actor in film plays. He knew one such actor already, and it -seemed to him that this would provide him with an effective introduction -into the right clique when the time came. Toby Nicholson was the actor. -At one period of his life Toby had turned an honest penny by risking his -life before the camera on selected days, and though this was, for -obvious reasons, not the line of business in which Henry proposed to -make his mark, it was at all events good to feel that he was not totally -unacquainted with the way things were done. - -Henry, as a matter of fact, was going to be one of those men to whom the -ideal way of getting into a room is by way of the skylight, and the -ideal way of getting out is through the window (though not, of course, -by being pushed through). - -It was conceivable that on occasion Henry might consent to act the part -of a detective. Generally speaking, however, he would be the man who -delays the play all the way through by persistently getting into -predicaments through sheer stupidity merely for the sake of showing how -to get out of them again. - -He would be a man of rapid movement; he would look always to right and -left before moving to his front; he would look all round a room before -observing a prostrate body at his feet; he would invariably get his eye -caught on a keyhole before entering a room. He would point out the way -to a friend less keen of vision than he before walking down a long -straight road; and at times he would be seen swaying against a wall with -half-closed eyes whilst those who had stolen his all made their escape -in their own time through an old-world garden, stopping to pick flowers -as they went. - -Above all there would be one dramatic performance which would constitute -his star part. It would consist in a series of scenes turned rapidly -upon the reel, each displaying a long wide road, and down these ways -Henry would be featured running as never man ran before. His arms would -be going like pistons. He would have lost his hat. (This, however, he -would find again in time to doff it as indicating that somebody was -dead.) Ever and again he would appear to be exhausted. To the lay mind -it would seem impossible for any living man to maintain such a -consistent speed down all those different roads. Nevertheless Henry -would do it. He would do it on different days, of course, but that would -not be realised; and he would, moreover, be running to save a soul. This -would be known to the audience, who would cheer his attractive likeness -every time it appeared at the far end of another road. He conceived that -the energy with which he would run would immediately lift him into the -front rank of famous players. He had once had a nightmare in which he -had slipped up and fallen on the back of his neck whilst at the top of -his speed, thus leading the audience to suppose that his performance was -a comic one ... and once he had dreamt that owing to a slight stitch he -had not been able to run up to form and had arrived twenty-five minutes -too late to effect the rescue, for which he had been kicked by the man -who had been turning the film all the time in expectation of his -arrival; but he had never mentioned these incidents to anyone at all. - -He practised a good deal, and it may almost be said that throughout the -period covered by this tale he lived under the perpetual hallucination -that all his movements were recorded by a camera for reproduction before -a gaping audience. - -He was under this impression when he shepherded Bobbie Carr and his own -close friend, Hallowell, out of the new study. He made the movement a -masterpiece of play without words, and when they were safely out of -earshot in the corridor he drew himself up with a touch of -characteristic dignity and spoke his only sentence. He did not believe -in speaking any more than was really necessary at these times—no more, -in fact, than it would be necessary for a film to speak, and always in -the same crisp manner in which the film habitually does speak. - -His voice was deep down in his boots. - -“Something amiss,” said he. Then he was done. - -As a matter of fact even this was not essential. If, after all his -painstaking by-play, those present had still not tumbled to the fact -that something was amiss, nothing would have ever made them understand. -In reality they had both understood long ago and were now only hanging -about in case there was any more of Henry’s performance to come, which, -by going, they would miss. - -Henry, however, had finished for the moment, so Bobbie Carr sighed and -turned away. - -“I’d better go and find Coles,” said he. - -Hallowell looked at him. - -“It’s a pity you’ve got to fag for Coles. Still, it may not be for long. -How old are you—about fifteen, aren’t you? You’ll soon be done with -fagging.” - -There was silence for a moment. Carr could still not make up his mind -whether to admit that he knew quite a lot about Coles already, and -whilst he waited, half turning away, Henry drew near. He had had a rough -term of fagging himself when he had first entered Harley, and he guessed -what Carr must feel like with so many expressions of bad will towards -Coles coming to his notice in such a short space of time. He reached out -a hand and tapped the boy kindly on the shoulder, then he peered at him -with an old-fashioned sincerity over the tops of his glasses and spoke -in a slow and sepulchral tone. - -“He’s in the First Fifteen,” said he. “But with us he cuts no ice.” He -paused and nodded his head impressively. “Say, kid,” he added, “we’re -wise to that guy.” - -Such words if spoken in church by a venerable bishop would, one -supposes, sound odd. Spoken by Henry they sounded more than odd. They -sounded rotten. Trying to speak American slang was about the most inept -thing Henry did. The result was not only incongruous, it went absolutely -flat. Without having heard him it would be impossible to imagine how -dull those crisp words really sounded. He did not even speak them -through his nose. It was awful. - -Nevertheless Bobbie Carr was comforted. There was something in Henry -that inspired trust. There always had been. And in that moment Bobbie -Carr decided that he liked him very much. - -“I’ll come along with you,” said Henry. “I know something about Coles -and I can put you up to some of his habits. It may be a help to you. He -may not be in just now, and if he doesn’t want you we can go and have -another look at our new study before it’s too late.” - -“I’ll clear off then,” said Hallowell. “I’ve not done my prep. properly -yet. See you later.” - -He offered them a cheery gesture of farewell, to which Henry, for his -part, responded by looking at him gravely over the tops of his -spectacles as if he were some form of peculiar insect. - -Then he set off with Bobbie Carr, and as he went he spoke in a deep, -gruff voice of Coles and the kind of things he did. - -“Any time you find yourself up against him,” said he, “you come and tell -me. Don’t you go doing half the things he’ll want you to. He goes in for -betting, and he smokes and drinks and borrows money. He’ll want you to -fall in with his ideas and help him out of holes. Don’t you do it. I -notice Coles a good deal. I see without being seen. That’s rather a gift -I have got. And if I find that you’re afraid to refuse the things he -asks you to do I shall be disappointed in you, and then perhaps when you -really want my help one day I shan’t be inclined to give it. You come to -me. I can’t punch his head myself but I’m friendly with some who can. In -fact one of my best chums here is the captain of Rugby football.” He -wound up on a note of distinct self-congratulation. “Here,” he added, -“this is his place. You knock on his door and go in. Explain who you are -and see if he wants to speak to you. I’ll wait out here.” - -Bobbie went to the door and knocked. He was a lithe youngster, and even -Henry could not help noticing the easy grace of his movements. For a -moment he stood there listening. There was no answer. He knocked again. - -“Go in,” said Henry solemnly. “He isn’t there.” - -Bobbie opened the door and looked inside. It was perfectly true. The -room was empty. Henry moved from his position against the wall and came -up behind him. - -“While there’s nobody here, then,” said he, “I’ll show you where he -keeps his things. Maddock used to have this study and I was Maddock’s -fag. The teapot’s in that cupboard there. This is where he puts anything -he’s got to eat, and I expect his footer kit’s in that box.” - -The door was suddenly kicked sideways and a heavy step sounded behind -him. - -“Now then,” said Coles. “What are you doing in my study? What do you -mean by crawling in here? Are you looking for something to pinch?” - -Henry turned and glared at him with concentrated fury. Coles took him by -the collar. - -“You get out,” said he. - -Then he lifted a leg and planted a boot so severely behind Henry that he -shot foolishly forward and cannoned into the door. He turned and seemed -about to speak. Coles gave him no opportunity at all. He lifted his foot -again, and this time the force of its drive sent Henry clean out of the -room with one bounce and dropped him against the wall on the far side of -the corridor. Coles was one of the best dropkicks in the school. Then he -slammed the door and turned upon Carr. - -And the thing that troubled Henry most was not the pain or the -suddenness of those blows behind him, but the particularly stupid way in -which he had made his exit from the stage. - -Coles stared at Carr for a few moments thoughtfully, then he moved to -his chair and, sitting down, planted his feet upon the table. - -“Well?” said he. “I suppose you’ve come to report?” - -“I thought I’d see if you wanted anything.” - -“There is something I don’t want,” said Coles, “and that’s your friends. -I take a pride in my fag. I never expect to have to call for you twice, -and when I do call for you I don’t want all the riff-raff of the school -trotting in behind you like the tail of a crocodile. If you’re palling -up with that fellow Hope you’d better drop him. He makes me feel ill. -Whenever I see that fellow I want to stamp him into the carpet, and if I -see you about together it’ll make me angry with you, and then you won’t -be happy.” - -Carr said nothing at all. He just looked at him straightly. - -“Do you know,” asked Coles, “why you’ve been made my fag?” - -“No,” said Bobbie. - -“It’s because I asked for you. And do you know why I asked for you?” - -“No.” - -“It’s because I’m said to be rather a difficult man to fag for. Young -fellows like you get a bit tired of me. I want a good deal done and I -expect my fag to be absolutely trustworthy. If I tell you a thing in -confidence and I find you split, I simply hit you on the top of the head -with a book, and your head sings for twenty-four hours. I’ve an idea, -though, that I shan’t need to hit you much. That’s why I managed to get -you allotted to me. I think you’ll quite like to fag for me—you’ll know -that if ever you get to know a secret of mine I’ve got a secret of -yours, and that’ll keep you quiet, won’t it?” - -“How do you mean?” - -“Well, you’re ashamed of your father, aren’t you?” - -“Ashamed of him?” said Bobbie hotly. “No, I’m not.” - -“But you say that you don’t want anyone here to know how he makes his -living.” - -“I promised I wouldn’t say, that’s all. There’s a reason.” - -“Precisely,” answered Coles. “And I’m the only one that knows.” He made -an expressive gesture. “You see what I mean?” - -“I suppose you mean you’ll tell.” - -“I mean that that would be less trouble than hitting you on the head -with a book and considerably more effective.” - -Bobbie’s face was expressionless. - -“That threat,” said Coles frankly, “starts from to-day. Now we -understand one another.” He looked at the boy fixedly. “You can go,” -said he. “You come in and see me to-morrow in the luncheon hour.” - - * * * * * - -“Well,” said Henry, when Bobbie bumped into him standing proudly round a -corner of the corridor, “what did he say?” - -Bobbie shrugged his shoulders. - -“Nothing much. I’ve got to go and see him again to-morrow.” - -Henry appeared to be deep in thought. At last he lifted his head and -looked at Bobbie pertly over the tops of his spectacles. - -“Did you notice him try to kick me?” - -Bobbie’s behaviour was straightway that of a perfect gentleman. He -glanced at Henry politely. - -“Yes,” he answered. “He didn’t get you, did he?” - -An immediate change came over Henry. His lips slowly parted in ecstasy. -He spoke no word. He looked at the new boy instead with the grateful -light of intense relief shining from his eyes, and from that moment -their friendship was finally cemented. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - A CABINET MEETING - - -There had not even been a rumour what was wrong. The few who knew had -kept their counsel absolutely. For this reason the Rugger meeting came -as a mild shock to those gentlemen of high place in the school whose -privilege it was to attend it. They were the same counsellors who formed -the house committees, and for certain purposes they were on special -occasions called together to debate some important matter. Their chief -duty this term was, of course, the formal election of the school captain -of football, and this had only just been carried out. Ordinarily after -this their services were not required. Many of them expected to win -their own colours, and it was obviously undesirable for them to sit on -the small executive committee that would judge the merits of rivals. -Matters pertaining to the First Fifteen, to honours generally, and to -the organisation of training throughout the school rested, therefore, -with a trio composed of the captain, the honorary secretary and the -games master, and of these the captain himself was virtually dictator. -That was the custom of the school. - -House committees were formed on a different basis. Here one found merely -the senior boys in each house, though as a matter of course many of -these were also leading lights in school sport. They met together as a -school committee on almost anything that needed to be discussed: in -summer to talk cricket, in winter to plan the broad lines of the -season’s football, and sometimes to debate such matters as the Christmas -concert or the big cross-country run. To be called together for no -apparent reason so soon after they had met came, therefore, as a -surprise to them, and they filed into the big room and sat them down in -silent dignity. They did not nudge each other or make play with their -eyebrows to denote their wonder. They had mostly come to the age when it -seems a great thing to pretend one knows something which the next man -does not know, and only a man like Toby Nicholson, who knew the type -peculiarly well, would have read their casual bearing aright. Their -seeming indifference, the way some whistled softly to themselves, the -general lack of any evidence of curiosity, denoted an undercurrent that -meant sensation. - -When they were ready Toby rose. He was not at all in love with his task. -He was, if anything, a little nervous. He could not tell for a few -moments how the school were going to take it. - -“The day before yesterday,” said he, “you met to elect the captain of -football. We have had to call you together again to-day to elect another -one. I am sorry to say that the Headmaster does not approve of Rouse as -your choice.” - -There was no buzz. No one sprang to his feet. The silence was deadly. It -was as clear as day that it was going to take them a few minutes to -believe it. - -Toby gave them those few minutes, and when he judged that it had -thoroughly got home on them he spoke again. - -“The Headmaster wished me to tell you,” he said, “that the captain of -football must be a senior in the Sixth Form.” - -He did not say more. There was really no need to tell them that he must -also be a boy who wore the cloak of dignity—that one proviso limited -their choice sufficiently. - -“His particular wish is that, if practicable, the captain of football -should be the captain of the school,” said Toby. Then he made a gesture -of finality and sat down. - -There came now a slight shuffling of feet. The counsellors were turning -one to the other; there was hoarse whispering, occasional sharp sounds -of absolute amazement. - -At last the captain of the school rose in his seat. He did not play -football at all. He made up verses that didn’t rhyme and secured good -prizes for them. Nevertheless he was a good fellow, and it was clear -that the news that he might be expected to lead the Fifteen on to the -field in cap and gown had had a pronounced effect upon him. He was -really quite shaken up. - -“But does the Headmaster know the practice at this school, sir?” - -“Oh yes,” said Toby. “He knows what it always has been ever since I can -remember. I’ve done all that a man could do to persuade him to respect -our unwritten laws. The Headmaster, however, is a man of very strong -views. He is determined on a new method.” - -“Well, I’m blowed,” said the captain of the school, and sat down with a -jerk. - -Next moment Rouse had half risen from his chair, and, in the awkward -manner of a boy whose lifelong nightmare has always been that he might -one day be called upon for a speech, turned towards the assembly. - -“It’s quite true,” said he a little huskily. “I’ve been rather prominent -in doing the very things the new Head hates most ever since he came, it -seems. Mr Nicholson’s done his best to keep me—but it’s no use. I’m -terribly sorry. It seems a sort of disgrace to the school. They’ll get -to hear about this at other places—Rainhurst and Wilton—and they’ll -guess I’m a general rotter and wonder why I haven’t been sacked. I——” - -He stopped and seemed to be searching for the right words. Few of those -present had ever heard Rouse speak in such grave tones before, and it -did more than anything else to bring home the truth to them. There was a -sympathetic silence. - -“There’s nothing else to be said. I resign, of course. Pointon doesn’t -play football. It’s useless to propose him. Perhaps, though, once the -Head gets rid of me he may listen to reason more. I think that if you -elect a fellow who is at least in the Sixth you might get his approval. -So I propose Smythe.” - -He slowly subsided into his chair. There came a growing murmur of angry -distress. Suddenly people noticed that in the far corner of the room -Smythe was already upon his feet. - -“There’s no need to waste time considering that at all,” he said, with -considerable vexation. “At the other meeting some misguided ass got up -on his hind legs and proposed me. I said then that whilst Rouse was at -the school there could be no other skipper worth considering at all, and -you all cheered. I say that again now. If Rouse isn’t good enough for -this job you can put me down as not playing Rugger at all, let alone -being captain of it. I was the first to congratulate Rouse the other -day, and I’m the first now to propose that we refuse to accept his -resignation.” - -His lips had spoken the words that had been on the tip of every other -fellow’s tongue. None other could have so aptly expressed their -feelings. - -There was a chorus of vehement approval. In the fierce clapping and the -clatter of feet on the floor Rouse had a quick insight into the depth of -their inexplicable affection for him. He was honestly astounded. He was -also considerably upset. He could not face saying any more. He just sat -where he was and pretended to be taking no notice, but his acting was -not very good. For one thing, his face was brick-red. - -At last Toby rose stolidly to his feet. He began to hate his position -more and more. He was very human and he was heart and soul with them in -their feelings. It was the hardest thing of all to make of himself -counsel for the defence, and the long and the short of it was that he -could not do it. If he managed to get through this meeting without a -vote of detestation being passed upon Dr Roe it would to his mind be a -notable achievement. He was conscious that as a master he had a certain -disciplinary responsibility, but he was very unhappy about it. There was -too much of the old boy in Toby. - -He looked round them sadly. At last he spoke. - -“It’s a very bad business,” said he. “I think as you do—that Rouse -couldn’t be bettered for this job.... The only other point to consider -is how the school will be affected if you refuse to accept his -resignation. The Head will not give in to you. If it comes to a fight he -has every advantage. It may mean that you ruin our fixture list for the -season.... It will certainly draw attention to an incident that we might -otherwise keep fairly quiet so as to prevent the wrong construction -being put upon it. If we’re to have a good season it’s essential to get -started at once. The team for next Saturday ought to be chosen to-day so -as to start practice. If you decide against the Head you may cause delay -that we shall never be able to make up.” - -“Well, we’re not going to give up Rouse, sir,” cried someone in sheer -indignation. - -Toby turned to him. - -“That isn’t the point,” he said. “I’m absolutely with you. I believe -that without Rouse to lead the Fifteen we shan’t have a real good -season. But we mustn’t make it too hard for the man who sooner or later -may have to take it on. I’ve talked to the Head till I couldn’t talk any -more. It made no shadow of difference at all. The Head will never give -in. His mind’s made up, and although it’s true that we oughtn’t to give -up Rouse, I shouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t make you see both -sides of the picture. It’s for you to decide; I’m only just telling you -how matters stand in case you forget.” - -He sat down wretchedly. - -Next moment Rouse turned to them again. He did not get up. There was -something too urgent about the atmosphere for much formality. - -“It’s quite right,” said he. “You mustn’t muck up the season. I’ve -resigned. That’s all there is to it. Go on. Don’t be boobs. I propose -Nicholson. The Head can’t refuse him. He’s one of the top six in the -school.” - -All heads turned slowly to regard Terence as if half in doubt and half -in hope. Terence stiffened like a man electrocuted and shot to his feet. - -“No!” he shouted. “It’s all rot! Rouse has got to be captain. He was -made for it. It’s no use going on proposing other people. We’ve elected -Rouse.” - -There was an appreciative silence, then an animated discussion, and -amidst it a young man rose from his seat and lifted his hand for -silence. - -“There’s only one other old colour who’s in the Sixth,” said he. “Coles. -So I’ll propose him.” - -He sat down as if he had done a piece of useful work by thoroughly -clearing the decks for real debate. What followed, therefore, came as a -very painful surprise to him. Others were merely disgusted. He was -honestly hurt. To suppose that he had spoken seriously was the most -insulting thought anyone could have had of him. - -Coles had arisen and could be seen looking earnestly upon them. His -voice was unmistakably clear though he spoke quietly, and he made one -modest gesture with his hand. He had not so much as waited to see the -result of the proposal, had not given anyone even a chance to second it. - -“If it’s for the good of the school,” said he, “of course I’ll do my -best.... It’s just as you like. Whatever seems right to you fellows....” -There was a cutting silence; not so much as a movement helped him. He -remained standing. He looked round hopefully. “Whatever Mr Nicholson -thinks best,” said he. “If you propose me—I’ll certainly——” - -At last somebody spoke. It was difficult to identify the gentleman, but -from the murmur of approval that followed it was clear that he voiced -the opinion of all those present. - -The voice said: “Sit down, you ass.” - -With a sudden flush of acute self-consciousness Coles disappeared from -view. - -Then there rose up one other spokesman. - -It was the captain of the school. He brought a touch of dignity into the -atmosphere that was not unwelcome. - -“Well, I’ve listened to what’s been said,” he told them, “and it hasn’t -taken me long to form my opinion. I’m no footer man—but I’ve got the -interests of the school as much at heart as any of you. And I know -Rouse. I’m no fighting man either. I like peace and quiet. Arguments I -can’t bear. But I’m afraid a fight and an argument will have to come. -The soundest proposal made has been Smythe’s. He says we refuse to -accept Rouse’s resignation, and I think you’d like the Head to know that -as captain of the school I second that.” - -There was a pleasant and concerted cheer. He sat down with a slight -flush. Then hand-clapping broke out. It grew loud and continuous. Next -they began to shout. Some got on to their feet and waved in Rouse’s -direction excitedly. The shouting grew into a thunderous ovation. Here -and there earnest students like the captain of the school found -themselves jumping foolishly on to forms and falling off again in the -hopes of getting a really good view of Rouse. It grew louder and more -emphatic. The very walls were trembling with enthusiasm. Rouse stood up -and tried to stop them. They went on. It may be that they rather hoped -the new Head would hear them and ask what it was all about. Toby made no -effort to exercise control. As a matter of fact he was smiling. It -seemed to him just as well to let them have it out. Eventually it began -to die down a little. Fellows were forcing their way towards Rouse and -thumping him on the back. Others were reaching for his hand. And above -all they were still shouting his name delightedly aloud and making -gestures of eternal allegiance to their chosen. - -In the end it was Smythe who got a hearing first. - -“It may be as well,” said he, “to decide on the form in which this -decision ought to be communicated to the Head. What about a deputation?” - -“The usual way,” said Toby cheerfully, “would be for me to go along and -tell him.” - -They looked at one another. The point was worth considering. - -“There are some matters,” said Toby, “that might be better discussed in -my absence, of course.” He paused. “If I were to go along and see the -Head now you fellows might be talking it over between you, and then if a -deputation should be necessary you’d know whom to select to form it.” - -He waited a moment. There was the loud sound that indicated a crowd’s -approval. - -“Well, sir,” said the captain of the school, rising yet again, “that -seems the best thing to do. Would you mind describing to the Headmaster -the exact manner in which the proposal to refuse his resignation has -been carried, and why it is so strongly supported? I think he ought to -know that.” - -“I think so myself,” said Toby. “I shall certainly tell him.” - -He moved slowly down the room. There was a pleasant smile upon his face. -It was as if a prophecy of his had come true. - -The counsellors rose as he passed down their midst, and seeing how -pleasantly he smiled they slowly answered, and one by one they smiled -back at him as he went upon his errand. - -The moment he had really gone they turned as one man to Rouse. - -“But why is it?” they demanded. “What’s gone wrong? He’s only just come -here. How on earth does he know who’s the best captain?” - -Rouse shrugged his shoulders. - -“It’s that idiotic little fat boy,” said Terence. “He’s the cause of all -the trouble. He went and laid evidence against Rouse as a bully and the -Head believes him, and then he came over to see how Rouse behaved in his -natural haunts and Rouse was singing a part-song with the house porter. -He smote the Head with the leg of a table, too—just to emphasise the -fact.” - -“What fat boy?” demanded Pointon. “Why haven’t they got hold of the fat -boy then? Why don’t they bump him? Let’s go and fetch the fat boy and -make him go to the Head and withdraw what he said.” - -“It’s no use,” said Terence. “Toby went and tackled him himself and -asked him whether he knew what he’d done. And eventually he said that -he’d go to the Head and try to make it all right. So he did, the fool; -and when the Head saw Toby again he said the little hero had been to him -and asked that Rouse should not be punished in any way, because he was -afraid that if he were fellows would blame _him_ and call him a sneak. -So the Head said it was clear that somebody had been getting at him, and -demanded that Toby should find out who it was and bring him up before -him. Toby said that the only chap who’d got at him was he himself, and -explained the true story of what had happened; and he also said that -another new kid called Carr was a witness, and that I was too. But the -Head wouldn’t believe it. He said there was too much hanky-panky going -on. He said that at Wilton he had the reputation of being an infallible -judge of character and that he knew as well as he knew his own name that -Rouse had been bullying the kid. As a matter of fact that was only one -point. He was looking at the new-comers’ footer, and he says Rouse made -a dead set for the same boy ... and then, of course, he came across to -the house to see what Rouse did when he thought nobody was looking, and -that’s how he found him.” - -He made an expressive gesture and was silent. - -“Look here,” said Pointon, “be more explanatory. _What_ was the -bullying? What have witnesses got to do with it?” - -Terence explained. - -“But, surely,” said Pointon, “when the Head knows the truth he can’t -refuse to believe it.... That’s all bosh.” - -“What Toby says,” pointed out Terence, “is that what we’ve got up -against us now isn’t a charge against Rouse that’s got to be disproved -at all. It’s the Head’s own character. The Head is a man who’ll never -admit himself in the wrong. Even if there’s nothing else behind it, -that’s enough. He’s taken a definite line and now he won’t budge from it -for fear of his reputation. He’s an idea we may try to make him alter -his mind and he’s determined he won’t. Whatever evidence we could bring -up now wouldn’t make any difference at all.” - -Pointon grew annoyed. He was a studious boy with rather definite -opinions of his own and a particularly strong sense of justice. - -“That’s preposterous,” said he. “No man’s got a right to do a thing like -that. He’s not a dictator. We’ve always elected our own captains at -games.... This is all rot. Do you mean to say he’s going to make Rouse -suffer like this and ruin the school’s footer season just because he -hasn’t the decency to admit himself in the wrong?” - -“That’s Toby’s idea,” said Terence, “and Toby isn’t often wrong over a -thing like this. He’s done a lot of arguing with the Head too ... and -none of us have really spoken to him at all in private. Toby’s probably -right.” - -“In that case,” said Pointon, “we _shall_ require a deputation and we’d -better decide now who it shall be.” - - * * * * * - -It was twenty-five minutes before Toby came back, and they saw at once -that his countenance was grave. - -“It’s no use at all,” said he. “The Head’s firm. He says that unless you -have elected a new captain by six o’clock to-night, he will elect one -for you, and it may not be one that you expect.” - -“Did you ask him to receive a deputation, sir?” said Smythe. - -Toby looked at him fixedly. - -“No. It was clear that if I did he would refuse. So I decided that if -there were going to be a deputation at all it had better be an impromptu -one. And I think I’ll leave that to you.” - -Looking at him, they understood: Toby was a master. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - THE THUMB-SCREW - - -Coles returned to his study in a very bad temper. There had been one -precious minute during the meeting when he had found himself suddenly -thinking: - -“My word! Supposing they should elect me!” - -Never before had he seriously considered himself captain of Rugby -football; but now that he did so he found the sensation peculiarly -delightful. In these fleeting moments he imagined himself the most -important man in the school, a veritable maker of laws. He pictured the -favours he would be able to win from other fellows by withholding or -bestowing colours. He would be respected in the town. He would be able -to get things on tick. He might even be awarded a money prize by his -proud father. - -All these possibilities had flashed before his mind’s eye whilst other -names were being suggested. Then that well-meaning but misguided -individual had risen really and truly to propose his own and the chance -was altogether too much for him. He had jumped to his feet.... There -remained now nothing but the memory of being called an ass. - -After all, he was the best drop-kick in the school. He could not for the -life of him see why it should be so very absurd to suppose him captain. -It is, of course, at such times as this that the close observer may -discern the subtle difference between one who is instinctively a -gentleman and one who is not. Coles was not a young man of good taste -and that’s all there is to it. - -At all events he was very angry, and the first butt upon whom he could -vent his feelings happened to be Bobbie Carr, who was waiting obediently -outside his study. Coles pounced upon him eagerly. To Bobbie his nose -looked longer than ever, and more beak-like; his prominent cheek-bones, -too, were touched with the hectic flush of indignation. - -He pointed at Bobbie fiercely. - -“What are you doing here? Why are you hanging about outside my study? -When I want you I call for you. Nothing will annoy me so much as to see -you when I don’t want you.” - -“You told me to come,” said Bobbie mildly. - -Coles, who had turned, spun round upon him instantly, his whole -countenance darkening like the sky before a storm. - -“You’d argue, would you? I told you to come, did I? Well, now I tell you -to _go_, so _GO!_” - -He made a threatening gesture towards Bobbie, but as Bobbie did not -flinch he emitted a sound of utter passion and went noisily into his -study, slamming the door behind him. - -Once inside, he threw himself into a chair and began to brood. And, -brooding, he came to a sudden decision. - -Coles had certain friends, and it was his custom to entertain these -friends during the early part of each term. Afterwards they, in their -turn, entertained him. But he liked to be the first to issue an -invitation. For one thing, this enabled him to cut a dash whilst he -still had a fair amount of money; and having duly impressed the said -friends with the way in which he believed in doing things, he was then -able to enjoy their hospitality on a similarly lavish scale during times -when he himself was rather hard up, entirely free of cost. - -These entertainments were not feeds as feeds are generally understood. -That is to say, expense and provender were never pooled. The inclusion -of parcels from home was rather scorned if anything. It would have -implied that the host was unable to provide a really sumptuous repast -out of his own pocket, and had had to resort to a means of entertaining -which is available to every junior. To Coles and his friends this would -never have done. You will gather that Coles and his friends were snobs -and you will be correct. But there was something else. They were, in -addition, fools. None of these repasts was complete without one special -item. There is no use hiding the fact. The item was drink. Under these -circumstances it is surprising, of course, that Coles should have -succeeded in getting into the First Fifteen the previous year. Coles -was, however, passably clever. Very few in the school knew that he was -addicted to this particular form of vice, and he took care that very few -should. He posed as a connoisseur of whisky only to those friends who -shared it with him. To all appearances he trained conscientiously, and -he was sufficiently skilful to avoid giving any outward signs that he -was not always fit. In addition, he indulged in drink only after -matches, so that on Saturdays he was usually fit enough to pass muster. -Indeed, whenever he had felt at all off colour he had found it easy -enough to plead a cold. - -The idea came to him now that he would vent his feelings in entertaining -his friends to a really good evening. It should take place in his study, -and he would drown his bitterness in fiery spirits flowing from a -teapot. He did not like whisky, but it was supposed to be a good -comforter once you had got it down, and besides, it was great to be able -to take the stuff slightly stronger than the next man. - -He came to this decision suddenly, and he reflected only for a few -moments. He could scarcely have chosen a better night for the party. The -deputation would be visiting the Head that evening and he expected that -the school would retire to bed in something of an uproar. There might be -a house demonstration in favour of Rouse. It was, moreover, very -unlikely that there would be a Rugby match under present circumstances -for a full week. Everything was to the good. He began to cheer up. At -last he went to the door, opened it, and let out a piercing cry. - -There was no answer at all. The corridor was absolutely silent. - -It was only a very few minutes since he had sent Carr away, and to find -now that when he really wanted him he had entirely disappeared was more -than Coles could bear. He choked back a sob of despair and tried again. -This time he shouted, if possible, more loudly and more angrily. Still -there was silence. He muttered: “Where is he?” in a sort of stage -whisper full of threatening significance, almost as if he believed Carr -might be hiding a few yards away and, hearing him, would come out. He -was really very like a spoilt child. It is said that walls have ears. If -so, one must pity the wall which received the full blast of Coles’ next -cry. Coles meant to attract attention or burst, and to do one or the -other he richly deserved. As it happens, he attracted the attention of -Rouse, who appeared round the corner with an expression of extreme -annoyance. - -“Are you ill?” said he. “Do you want help?” - -“I want my fag,” snapped Coles. “He was here only a minute ago, the -jackass.” - -“The chances are that your first shout knocked him flat on his face,” -said Rouse, “and he’s lying round the corner in a fit. It nearly had -that effect on me. I thought you’d been taken queer. If it’s only your -fag you want would you mind stopping that unholy row, or else only make -it at stated times, so that a fellow could know it was coming and be -ready for it?” - -Coles began to go pink and white by turns. He was very nearly losing all -control of himself. He badly wanted to hit somebody in the eye, and the -only consideration that kept him from doing so at once was uncertainty -as to whether it would be altogether a good thing to start on Rouse. - -Had he known what had actually happened he might, however, have even -risked this. - -Rouse had met Carr down the corridor on his way back from the meeting -and had stopped for a minute to speak to him, bent on displaying good -spirits at all costs in case the boy might already have heard what had -happened. In the middle of his conversation Coles’ first shout had -reached their ears, and Bobbie Carr had moved as if to go in answer to -it. Before he had time to start, however, the second cry had come, and -Rouse had turned in the direction from which it came almost angrily. - -“What’s he making that row for?” said he. “Don’t go. That fellow ought -to learn how to treat a fag before he has one. You push off. I’ll tell -him I sent you on an errand. I’ll go and tick him off.” - -Bobbie Carr seemed a little uncertain. - -“I’d better answer him,” said he at last. - -At that moment the third shout reached their ears. - -“Listen to that,” said Rouse. “He’s off his head. If you go to him now -the first thing he’ll do will be to catch you a whack across the face, -and then I shall have to come in and intervene. It’s hardly fair to -Coles. You go. I’ll go along and see if I can calm him down by means of -the honeyed word.” - -Eventually Bobbie saw that Rouse meant it and moved slowly away, though, -if Rouse’s forecast were true, it seemed to him a little like funking. - -Rouse looked at Coles now with cool forbearance. - -“As a matter of fact,” said he, “I met Carr a short while back, and as -he’d got nothing to do I sent him on a little errand. You would have -shouted like that all night and he wouldn’t have heard you. See how -silly you make yourself.” - -Coles made an idiotic gesture. - -“Sent him on an errand?” said he. “But Carr’s my fag!” - -“Well, well,” said Rouse, “if you have anything you really want doing -permit me to do it for you. I notice you want your neck washing.” - -Coles stepped forward, and leaned towards Rouse until his face was -barely an inch away from his. Then he spoke through clenched teeth. - -“I don’t want any of that,” said he. “Understand, I don’t want it. -Whether you’re captain of footer or not, I don’t want any of that.” He -paused. “Otherwise you and I will come to blows. You’ve always thought -it funny to pull my leg. It’s time it stopped.” - -At the time he presumably forgot that he had never failed to avail -himself of any chance that had presented itself to him of insulting or -annoying Rouse; nor that on two of the more recent occasions upon which -Henry Hope had assisted Terence and Rouse out of a hole it had been he -himself who had been instrumental in getting them into it. - -“You rather ask for it,” said Rouse gently. “If you could only see how -perfectly childish you look in these tempers of yours you’d realise that -a chap does you a good turn by trying to cure you. One of these days -you’ll do something in a passion of fury that you’ll be sorry for.” - -Coles slowly withdrew his face. He then drew back a step and indicated -Rouse with a warning finger. - -“Take care what you say,” said he darkly. “You be very careful.” - -Rouse sighed. - -“Before I go,” said he, “there’s one other thing. I’m going to see -Morley to-day with a view to asking if I can have Carr for my fag and -give you my own. Ludlow would be rather more suited to your temperament -than Carr. Ludlow’s had a bit of experience. He’ll know what’s what—if -you understand me—and Carr won’t. You can hardly have got used to Carr -yet, so _you_ won’t mind, of course.” - -He stopped and looked at the other inquiringly. - -“Yes, I do mind,” said Coles. “I object very strongly. I particularly -asked for Carr.” - -“Why did you do that?” - -“Because,” said Coles, “if you want to know—Carr’s a personal friend of -mine. I know his family. That’s why.” - -He stood a moment watching the effect of this news and then turned -abruptly, shot into his study, and flung the door to behind him with a -resounding crash. - -“Exit Coles by door left centre,” whispered Rouse, and turning -thoughtfully, made off at a dignified pace down the corridor. - -Back in his chair, Coles began to reflect anew. He was just a little -puzzled as to why Rouse should want to take Carr away, but not very. -Carr had evidently chummed up with Henry Hope, and Henry was a sworn -ally of the firm of Rouse and Nicholson. So far it was easy to trace the -course of events. It was merely the working of a clique. - -But he was not at all sure whether Carr knew of the suggestion yet. If -so, he was a bigger fool than he had taken him for. He must know that if -he went over to the enemy Coles would give away his secret without a -second thought. Surely he could not be prepared for that. - -He considered the matter carefully from all standpoints. At last he -decided to interrogate Carr himself. This reminded him that Carr had yet -to be found. He began to grow angry again at once. Carr had got to be -found. He was going to hold a party and Carr had to go down to the town -and fetch the necessary goods. Also Carr had to be instructed in his -behaviour when on guard that evening. - -Supposing, though, that Carr _did_ want to go and fag for Rouse? - -If he surrendered his only hold over him in a fit of spite he might -regret it afterwards. No. He must keep Carr’s secret as long as -possible. Only by having that always over his head would Carr be taught -true obedience. The secret was a valuable possession. He must prevent -Carr from going over to Rouse by some other means. The secret ought only -to be a last resort. - -He dipped again into the recesses of his imaginative mind. There must be -some other way. All he had to do was to find it. - -At last he went out like the man in a fairy tale to seek his fortune, -and his success was appropriately rapid. Evidently, in spite of having -been called an ass at a Rugger meeting, this was his lucky day. Out on -the gravel path behind the school he came upon a small group. The group -was composed of Henry and Carr and the fat boy whose name was Coppin. He -stood aside for a moment unnoticed and watched what was happening. Henry -was striking a favourite pose, that of the plain-clothes man -interrogating a suspect. He had a stiff finger pressed against the fat -boy’s waistcoat, and his eyes were turned up so as to look over the tops -of his spectacles at the unhappy Coppin. His height was unimposing -because he had adopted a crouch in order to place full emphasis behind -the forefinger with which he was pinning the fat boy down. Bobbie Carr -had the appearance of an interested spectator more than anything else, -but he was talking at the time that Coles came upon them, and it was -clear that he was accusing the fat boy of some misdemeanour. - -From the fat boy’s expression too it was clear that he was fairly and -squarely cornered. Coles tumbled to the position of affairs with -praiseworthy rapidity. He could identify the fat boy at once from -Terence’s description at the meeting, and it seemed clear to Coles that -the other two were accusing him of sneaking, or perhaps even of laying -false evidence against Rouse. The fat boy’s countenance would have given -away his guilt if nothing else had. - -Coles waited a minute or two in consideration of affairs and then came -to a quick decision. There was very little time left before afternoon -school. He must act quickly. - -His voice rang out, and Henry jumped hurriedly sideways as if in -remembrance of recent happenings. Carr came over to him obediently. - -“Here,” said Coles, “I’ve been trying to find you for a deuce of a long -time. Now that I’ve found you try and be intelligent and don’t waste -time making me say things twice.... I’m in no end of a hurry. Rouse is -going to ask for you as his fag. Did _you_ get him to do that?” - -“No,” said Carr. - -“You didn’t? That’s just as well for you. Because you won’t get the -better of me that way. Very well, then. Understand that if you’re given -the opportunity, you don’t want to change. D’you get me? If they ask you -whom you want to fag for, it’s me.” - -He paused. Bobbie was looking at him dubiously. - -“Why?” - -“Why?” repeated Coles. “Because I tell you so. You know why you’d better -do as I tell you, don’t you?” - -Bobbie did not answer. He appeared to be considering the point. - -“There’s another thing,” observed Coles, as if to help him decide. “You -may know that Rouse is fighting tooth and nail to retain the captaincy -of football. There’s a deputation going to the Head this evening. It’s -touch and go what happens. Any slight evidence against Rouse or Rouse’s -clique will make all the difference. Well, you know what I’ve just seen, -don’t you? I’ve seen you and Henry Hope threatening that little kid -who’s supposed to have caused all the trouble by splitting on Rouse. You -know what that means. You’re friendly with Rouse and so is Hope. -Supposing I go to the Head now and tell him what I’ve seen, which way do -you think his decision will go? He’s dead nuts on bullying. That’s the -only thing that’s caused Rouse’s downfall. You see what I mean.... -Trying to get at the kid whom Rouse has been bullying, trying to -frighten him into saying Rouse never bullied him at all. You get me, -don’t you?” - -Bobbie looked at him in amazement. - -“Why—why, you wouldn’t do a thing like that?” - -Coles laughed shortly. - -“Wouldn’t I? That’s all you know about it. You haven’t summed _me_ up -very well.” He shook his head. “No,” said he, “I don’t stick at a little -thing like that. Now, which shall it be? Quick! I told you I was in a -hurry.... Will you let Rouse in over the captaincy or stick to me?” - -Bobbie did not take long to consider. He was new to Public School life -and there was clearly no time to consult Henry. - -“If it’s a question of that, I’ll stick to you.” - -Coles smiled pleasantly. “Right,” said he. “Well, don’t forget it. And -don’t turn round to-morrow and say you won’t. Because now you’ve -promised there’s plenty of ways of keeping you to your word.” - -This was unnecessary. If Bobbie Carr once promised, nothing else was -necessary to keep him to his word. But perhaps Coles may be excused for -not appreciating such a point of view as that. - -“Now,” said he, with a sigh of relief, “I’m arranging a little party -to-night to celebrate the new term. It won’t be after lights out or -anything of that sort, but it’ll be rather a swagger affair, and I want -you to go down and fetch me up some fodder. I shall give you a -note—rather a special note—for a little private house just out of the -town, and you’ll call there for a parcel. It’ll be done up in a -cardboard box and you’ll be jolly careful—as careful as you know how—not -to drop it, or anything like that. D’you see?” - -Bobbie slowly nodded his head. - -“On no account are you to tell anyone else about this,” continued Coles. -“And you’re to go alone. I’m showing a good deal of trust in you in -sending you at all. I usually get these things myself for safety, but -to-night there’s the deputation on and I haven’t had time even to send -out the invitations yet, so I’ll have to trust to you. You’d better -remember how you stand with me and play the game. Tell nobody and go -alone. On no account do you tell that Henry Hope of yours. D’you -understand that?” - -Again Bobbie nodded his head, though this time it was clearly with some -foreboding of the difficulties ahead. - -“You mustn’t even let him guess you’re going out for me at all, -otherwise he’ll follow you and act the spy. He’s good at that. You must -take the most absolute care. Otherwise you know what’ll happen. I shall -report what I’ve just seen and the whole school will know about your -father.” He reached out a hand and drove home these points with a severe -clap on Bobbie’s shoulder. “Now you can go,” said he; “and come to me -immediately after school this afternoon and I’ll give you the note and -the address you’re to go to.” - -He turned with a portentous frown and walked away considerably more -satisfied than he had been at any time during the day. - -To all intents and purposes Henry had vanished. In reality he had not, -and at last Bobbie discerned him standing gravely beside a clump of ivy -against the wall. - -He did not beckon to Bobbie. - -He just looked at him and the movement of his lips seemed to say, -“Come,” just as it does when people look like that on the film. - -Bobbie came slowly and somewhat unhappily. - -“In your interests,” said Henry, when he had eventually reached his -side, “I watched all. It wasn’t eavesdropping, because I couldn’t hear a -word. But I could see Coles’ face and once I saw yours. I won’t ask you -to tell me anything at all. Coles has sworn you to secrecy, I’ll bet. I -could almost see him doing it. So don’t tell me anything you’d rather -not. Just rest assured that you aren’t in such a hole as you think. I’m -on your side. - -“There’s another thing,” he added, as if on an afterthought, “that you -may not know, and that Coles may not know—but I happen to have heard -from a reliable source that Rouse is going to ask for you to be his fag. -As a matter of fact, it was Terence—Nicholson, that is—who told me. That -ought to cheer you up!” - -He looked at Bobbie happily. Bobbie’s expression never changed. For a -moment Henry looked decidedly disappointed. But at last a look of -understanding suddenly came into his eye. And as he looked down at -Bobbie darkly, his face grew suddenly very old indeed, very old and very -wise. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - A MOLE-HILL AND A MOUNTAIN - - -The new Head had dined well and in due course had retired to that wide -room of heavy curtains and stained-glass windows wherein the Grey Man -had always seemed so admirable a Head. Dr Roe did not seem at all in -keeping with that place of peaceful dignity. This had been one of the -things that had troubled Toby most. He was too loud of speech, too free -of gesture, and he had not the upright presence which had been so -memorable a part of the man whose hair and eyes and clothing had been -grey. - -The new Head had retired to his study that evening much as a dog retires -to his kennel with a bone. He had taken papers and a long cigar and had -sat down heavily in the great arm-chair beside the fireplace; then, -leaning back, he had rested his head against a blue plush cushion, with -a sigh of deep content. Now his eyes passed slowly round the room, -taking in previously unnoticed features, and at last came back to the -fire, where they fixed a sleepy gaze upon some vision in the glowing -coals. It was a small fire, for summer had scarcely passed, but Dr Roe -was a lover of fires and he had ordered this especially. He poked it -with his boot and upset a few cinders into the grate. Finally, he -considered the papers he had brought with him for perusal. They seemed -but faintly interesting, and eventually the memory of his dinner proved -too much: slowly his eyes closed. Within a few moments the new -Headmaster of Harley was dozing in his chair with nodding head and mouth -agape. - -Now whilst he dozed he had a dream. It was the usual silly sort of dream -and he found himself cast for the part of king. He was only the king of -one of those insignificant little states whose troubles form the plot of -many a comic opera, but that is better than not being a king at all, and -at all events he was surprisingly well loved. In his dream the whole -populace were acclaiming him. He was being bombarded with flowers. His -courtiers (amongst whom might be noticed the school bursar looking very -natty in red velvet) stood smilingly around him, bowing and waving to -the swaying crowd gathered before his window. He himself was behaving in -a kingly but somewhat distant manner, and once when an ornamental basket -of hollyhocks had caught him a crashing blow between the eyes he had -shown annoyance. It seemed clear in this dream, however, that sooner or -later he would have to make a speech, and as he considered himself by no -means a bad speaker he did not keep the crowd waiting any longer than -was proper. - -That part of his dream in which he rose to his feet with a handful of -red robe clutched at his hip was extremely lifelike. - -He was standing on a balcony looking down upon his people, and he was -only faintly conscious in his dream that this balcony was the -window-sill of his present study. - -At first the crowd could not restrain their delight at all. Whether this -was because they had at last got something good at which to aim their -missiles, or whether they were honestly glad to see him looking so well, -we cannot judge, but it was a long time before he could obtain a -hearing. They simply cheered and cheered and cheered. One man even threw -his hat into the air and delayed proceedings for a long time by -stubbornly trying to find it again. Eventually the Head’s reception grew -to such a pitch that something had to be done about it. - -So he woke up. - -He did so with a jerk, and found himself staring at the school porter, -who in his turn was staring back at him. - -There was an extraordinary noise in progress; well, perhaps hardly a -noise—the subdued shuffle of feet—the sound of a vast crowd endeavouring -to move quietly. At first the Head took this to be some part of his -dream which had not entirely vanished, but it continued, and at last he -dropped his eyes thoughtfully, looked up again at the porter and said: - -“Hammond, _what_ is that noise?” - -Hammond, who had loved the Grey Man himself, had received strict -instructions that he was on no account to answer any question of this -kind in such words as: “It’s the boys, sir.” The boys he understood -would be trying their best to pretend they weren’t there. Hammond did -_his_ best to induce the Head to believe it. - -“_What_ noise, sir?” said he. - -The Headmaster gazed at him dubiously, and at last decided for reasons -of his own not to press the point; he was under a strong impression that -a good part of his dream was obstinately refusing to fade away, and he -was conscious of a keen desire to move across to the curtains and draw -them aside. He was prepared to bet with himself that the crowd he had -seen in his dreams was not so mythical as he had at first supposed. The -porter, however, gave him no time to secure proof. He had a one-line -part in the evening’s drama and he spoke it with pride. - -His voice was loud and clear, even a little pompous: - -“The captain of the school, sir, wishes to speak to you.” - -The Head peered at him. - -“Who?” - -“_The captain of the school_, sir.” - -“What does he want?” - -Hammond was respectfully patient. - -“He wants to see you, sir.” - -“To see me? Who? Who does?” - -Dr Roe, you see, was still paying only partial attention. - -This time Hammond made no answer at all. He merely stared at the Head. - -Dr Roe tumbled to it suddenly. He had still been wondering what was -really happening outside his window, but the sight of the school -porter’s pitiful stare brought him to his senses abruptly. He waved a -hand. - -“Well, well,” said he, “show him in.” - -Hammond went like a rat from a cage. - -Next moment the door opened again and Pointon appeared, a tall, studious -young man considerably impressed with the importance of the occasion. - -He was not alone. As he entered, the Head saw a string of young men -behind him, and he rose to his feet in surprise. - -“What is this?” - -Pointon spoke in a calm voice. If anything the Head was the more excited -of the two. - -“Some prefects of the school ask to be allowed to speak to you, sir.” - -“What is it about?” - -The deputation moved into the room, looked round almost instinctively -for the Grey Man, and then brought their eyes to bear, as one man, upon -the Head who had taken his place. - -“About Rouse, sir,” said Pointon. “They wish me as their spokesman to -tell you that Rouse is the only fellow they wish to elect as captain of -football, and they ask you to——” - -The Head advanced upon them in growing anger. - -“Then it is quite useless,” he replied. “You would have done better not -to have come. My mind is irrevocably made up. I come from Wilton, and at -that school they knew me before I left to be a man of iron -determination. By trying to dissuade me you will only make me more -resolute. I have made my decision and communicated it to the school. I -expect you to abide by that decision without a murmur. To come here like -this is a sign of weakness amongst those whom I expected to set the -school an example, and it is very displeasing to me.” - -“Will you hear us, sir?” said Smythe. “There are some things which we -think you can’t realise.” - -Dr Roe turned upon him irritably. - -“No,” said he, “I will not hear you. I have heard more than enough of -this matter. You are one and all making a mountain out of a mole-hill. -It is preposterous to suggest that there is only one boy in a great -Public School like this who is agreeable to you as captain of football. -If you had only eyes to see, you would understand for yourselves what I -saw in twenty-four hours and was in time to prevent. Rouse is the one -boy here who is least suited of any of you for the post. You cannot see -that for yourselves and it is my duty to guide you; it is my intention -to do my duty with a will of iron. They knew me at Wilton, and before -very long you will know me here.” He paused. They were sullenly quiet. -“Well,” he said, “are you prepared to elect a captain?” - -For a moment there was absolute silence. - -Pointon turned and looked round his deputation as if for support. At -last Terence Nicholson spoke. - -[Illustration: - - “THE HEAD ADVANCED UPON THEM IN GROWING ANGER.”] - -“No, sir,” said he; “we are not. You won’t hear us and you don’t -understand.” - -He drew back and fixed Terence with a wrathful glare. - -“Mr Nicholson has said everything you could say over and over again. -There is no scope left for argument at all. I understand that you refuse -to obey me. If so, you leave the election of a captain entirely in my -hands. You refuse to elect your own?” - -Once again there was silence. And this time the silence was significant. - -After Toby’s experience they had not expected a fair hearing; the belief -that Dr Roe was going to fight them was now a certainty. - -The Head turned and moved suddenly towards the window. His curiosity as -to what was really happening outside would no longer be denied. He -reached the curtain with outstretched hand and tugged it aside. - -And then in the gathering dusk of late evening he saw what he had to -combat. This little upheaval of school life had once seemed to him -merely a mole-hill. But he had spoken truly: they had made of it a -mountain. As far as the eye could reach there stretched a sea of faces -showing above the clear white of schoolboys’ collars, very silent and -very still, waiting as if for a signal from within. He stared out upon -the scene for thirty seconds and at last he turned. Even in this wide -room the silence was tense. Not one of the deputation seemed to be -really drawing breath. The new Head faced them sternly, his grim visage -more than ever like the face of a bloodhound, his spectacles set firmly -upon the broad bridge of his nose. - -“What does that mean?” he said at last. “Why are all those boys out -there? What do they want?” - -Terence stepped forward boldly. There was the joy of battle in his eyes. -“They want Rouse, sir,” said he. “Every mother’s son amongst them—and -they are waiting for your answer.” - -The Head’s eyes hardened till they shone like steel. - -“Very well,” said he. “Then you may make it known at once.” He paused -and looked at each boy in turn, and at last he told them in slow -emphatic words how he had planned his answer. - - - - - CHAPTER X - THE WATCHERS - - -Bobbie Carr leaned wearily against the wall with hands thrust deep in -his pockets and an expression of the most complete dejection. - -Except for those deplorable young men who were celebrating their return -to school behind the closed doors of Coles’ study, he believed that he -was absolutely alone in the whole of Morley’s. Everybody else had gone. -In twos and threes and fours they had all passed down the corridor, -talking in eager whispers and making emphatic gestures of resolve. -To-night the school were meeting to lodge one last gigantic protest -against the ways of the new Headmaster in a demonstration that would -have weight of numbers solidly behind it and a mighty voice with which -to speak. - -And he was left alone in a passage. It was really awful. His futile -office was to stand about outside that hated study and guard it against -intruders. What intruders? There was nobody whatever left in the whole -house to intrude. All he had to do was to kick his heels about and -pretend to be waiting idiotically for a friend. - -All the while the precious minutes were passing. Soon the whole school -would be gathered outside the Head’s window and he, who had really -conceived as great an admiration for Rouse as any other boy in the -school, would not be there. Others would notice his absence and comment -upon it; there would be a general and a perfectly just vote that he be -kicked. - -It was worse than awful. It was pitiful. - -Quite unexpectedly Henry came down the passage, stopped at Coles’ study -and reached for the doorknob. - -Bobbie sprang forward in one excited leap. - -“Stop! Hey! Where are you going?” - -Henry’s attitude was admirable. His hand never reached the door. In -point of fact it was never intended to. His arm fell stiffly to his -side. - -Then he looked for a spot suitable for quiet conversation away from the -door. It was important that if Coles were in that study he should not -know that he, Henry Hope, was outside. - -At last he took Bobbie by the arm and moved down the passage in the -manner of a novice on roller skates, until they were safely out of -earshot, when he stopped and placed his hands upon his hips. - -“You may not know it,” he began, “but I have been three times to the -corner of this passage, only to find you each time propping up the -wall.” - -Bobbie gazed at him dully and could offer no reasonable reply. - -“Say,” demanded Henry, “what’s Coles ... doing ... in that room?” - -“How do you know Coles is in there?” - -Henry snapped his finger. - -“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll tell you how things are. I believe -Coles is up against Rouse. I believe he thinks he’s got a chance of -being captain himself. That’s what everybody’s saying, anyway. Now Rouse -asked for you as his fag and it seems you’ve told Morley that you’d -rather stay with Coles. And what I want to know is, why?” - -Bobbie was silent. - -“There’s only one thing to it. Somehow or other Coles has got a -strangle-hold on you.... There’s a mystery in this. Coles told Rouse -that he knew your family and for that reason he particularly wanted you -as _his fag_. I know Coles is sick with Rouse; of course, he’s blind -jealous. He’s sick that he wasn’t asked to form one of the deputation -to-night too.... But there’s more in it than that. Somehow Coles has got -you in his grip. I’m going to find out why, and the only way to do that -is to get a hold on Coles. So—what’s Coles doing in that study?” - -“How do you know he’s in there?” demanded Bobbie. - -Henry made a gesture of extreme pride. - -“Most of this I’ve told you I know because Rouse knows—and Rouse told -_me_, and, by Gemini! he told the right man. But how did I know Coles -was in _there_? Well, it’s as plain to me as if it were written up on a -placard outside the door. Coles is nowhere in the school, and you’ve -stuck here for the last hour. To prove it I came up as though I were -going into the room and you wouldn’t let me ... and I say ... does this -mean he’s not going to help in the hullabaloo at all?” - -“I don’t know,” said Bobbie wretchedly. - -Henry considered the matter for a moment. At last he turned and seized -the other by the wrist. - -“Very well,” said he, “I’m going to fetch Coles out of it.” - -“_Fetch him out?_” - -“Certainly.” - -“How?” - -“By going in.” - -“But that won’t fetch him out—unless you mean he’ll chase you.” - -“_Chase me?_” Henry’s dignity appeared to be somewhat offended. “Chase -_me_?” he repeated. “Of course not. I mean to go in and tell him -Pointon’s waiting for him at the Head’s room. By the time he gets there -the other chaps will be inside and when Coles says afterwards: ‘Did you -want me?’ Pointon will say: ‘Of course I did. I want every fellow in the -school.’ He won’t dare to make a shindy. It’ll look pretty bad if he’s -noticed to be the only one absent out of Rouse’s house.... And then,” he -added, “as soon as Coles has gone _you_ can go. Do you get me?” - -Bobbie cheered up. He glanced at Henry admiringly. - -“Do you mean it?” said he. “But how will you get in?” - -“That’s easy. You’ll just go and knock at the door, and when he shouts -out you’ll say there’s a chap come with a message from Pointon.” - -Bobbie considered this plan with sparkling eyes. The greyness of the -immediate future began to fade swiftly away. - -“Go on,” said Henry. “It’s all right. If there’s any difficulty -afterwards I’ll see Terence and he’ll square it. I’m speaking the truth -anyway. Pointon does want him. He wants everybody. He said so. I’m just -going to remind Coles about it, that’s all, only I shall put it a bit -differently, of course.” - -“Supposing he kicks you,” submitted Bobbie. “It might hurt.” - -This time Henry looked really annoyed. - -“Don’t be so stupid,” said he. “You go and knock at the door.” - -Bobbie needed no second bidding. He moved forward and knocked loudly. - -“Hullo!” cried Coles. “What is it? Who’s there?” - -There was distinct vexation in his voice. For one moment Henry quailed. -There was no doubt whatever that Coles was the best drop-kick in the -school. - -Next moment Bobbie had explained. There was a dramatic pause. Henry -trembled with excitement. At last he heard movement inside the study and -Coles’ voice saying: - -“All right, send him in.” - -The moment had come. Henry set his teeth, and with one hand at his -coat-tails surreptitiously ready to protect himself and every nerve -alert, he walked stiffly to the door and went in. - -As he stood there facing Coles and Coles’ cronies he remembered the day -when he had been a fag himself. Everything was so oddly similar. He -could just imagine Slade in Coles’ chair and Black standing watchfully -beside him. Things had not changed very much. History seemed likely to -repeat itself. He did not know that his eyes looked wide and -terror-stricken with the strain of nervous tension. He was not really -afraid. Nobody likes being kicked, of course, but with Henry it was the -dread uncertainty of not knowing whether he was going to be or not that -was so upsetting. - -Coles rose to his feet. - -“Pointon wants _me_?” - -“Yes.” - -“Is that all he said ... he just wanted me?” - -Henry’s brain was alert. - -“People noticed you weren’t there, I think. And it seems he wanted -everyone. So he wants you.” - -Coles suddenly advanced upon him. - -“Get out!” he bellowed. “Get out, you frightful garden slug!” - -Henry turned and made for the door. He did not really care at the moment -whether there was any answer to the message or not. All he wanted was to -get out without running. He strove with all his might to do it. He felt -the hot breath of the ogre behind him. Every nerve was urging him to -jump. He would not. He saw the knob of the door with wide protuberant -eyes, his head craned forward, his hand outstretched to grasp it. He was -almost through ... then it was too late. He heard the swish of its -coming, half turned, his hand flew to save him. It was hardly swift -enough. The great boot thudded against its target and he shot forward in -a stupid bunch and out into the passage. With the frenzy of utter -despair he straightened himself in the very nick of time and assumed his -natural gait. The pain didn’t matter. It was nothing. His only aim was -to save his dignity, and by the skin of his teeth he did it. The door -slammed to behind him, and he never so much as jumped. - -He moved up the passage and peered at Bobbie over the tops of his -spectacles. - -“I’ve told him.” - -There was just a suspicion of a sob in his voice. Bobbie made no -comment. He looked at Henry Hope admiringly. And at last he said: - -“Oh, _WELL DONE_.” - -“I won’t stay,” said Henry. “You follow on. I expect they’ll be out in a -minute. I—I won’t stay.” - -With scarcely a pause he went stiffly on his way. Bobbie looked after -him. And though he may or may not have guessed, he never at all events -knew how shockingly it had hurt. - -He stood for a while, waiting uncertainly, and at last the door opened -again and Coles and his friends came out. They were talking quietly to -one another, and Coles turned to him as they passed. - -“Here, you can cut. But jolly well be back here as soon as this show’s -over. D’you understand that?” - -Bobbie nodded excitedly and darted away. Henry had kept his word. He’d -be there to cheer Rouse after all. - -Thus, then, the last who were in Morley’s passed out to join the silent -watchers who stretched in a vast half-circle before the stained-glass -windows that hid the deputation and the Head, and the house grew -strangely still. There was no creak upon the stairs, no voice in any -room. Every boy had gone. - -Yet not quite all. - -In an upstairs study one remained. He stood at the window looking out -into the dark, his shoulders squarely set and his heart throbbing with -forlorn hope. Every man jack in the school had been a brick to him. It -might be that they could win the day by strength of numbers. If so he -believed that they would never have a more ardent captain in any year to -come than he would be for them this term. But deep in his heart he was -desperately afraid. The school were strong, but he had an instinctive -fear that they would not be strong enough to win. So he stood waiting, a -silent watcher, for the answer that would come. - - * * * * * - -A group of masters were standing quietly on the flight of wide stone -steps; at windows and doors porters and servants of the school, their -faces round with wonder, had gradually appeared; but the wide, stiff -phalanx that showed the real strength of Harley’s purpose had never -moved. Six hundred boys were waiting in silent dignity for an answer -from the Head, and when he had drawn aside the heavy curtains and had -gazed upon them, no single boy had seemed to move a muscle of his face, -not even a solitary cough had snapped the magic of their studied -silence. - -So they had waited, and at last their answer was on the way. Under the -archway the old oak door swung slowly on its hinges. Then Pointon came. -He moved with a hesitant step, waiting for those behind him, and though -the watchers had hoped that he would give them some kind of cue he made -no sign, only at last, with Smythe and Terence at his elbow, and the -deputation at his heels, he moved towards the crowd. - -Every face turned tensely towards him, pale and uplifted in the dusk, -and seeming to sway this way and that as if for a better view of his -real expression. - -And now a stillness that was even more telling than the utter quiet of -their waiting settled upon the crowd whilst Pointon climbed on to the -parapet and looked out over them grimly. - -There was no need to lift his hand. Without one gesture his quietly -steady voice broke that ominous hush, and spoke his message. - -“We have been to the Head and we’ve told him that the only fellow we -mean to have as captain is Rouse. The Head won’t listen to us. We’ve -tried to make him understand that nobody else will stand for election or -take on the job, and that whilst Rouse is here nobody else would ever be -elected. Rouse was made for the job. Even I, who can’t play footer, can -comprehend a simple fact like that. But the Head can’t. He won’t budge -from his first decision. And now that he’s seen you all out here he’s -sent us to tell you what his answer is.” He paused to look round them -soberly, and still there was no move. “His answer is this. He has a son. -His son is at Wilton. He says that if we will not elect a captain he -will elect one for us, so he’s writing to-night to Wilton and his son is -going to leave and come here. When he arrives he—the Head’s own son—will -be appointed captain of footer, and I’m to tell you that the first thing -he will do will be to teach us how to obey.” - -He stopped and stood for a moment staring out upon them dully. Then he -moved and they understood that he was done. - -For an incalculable space of time the school stood rooted to the spot, -incredulous, stiff, mute with stupefaction. Then in one psychological -second the whole vast crowd had shifted into sudden movement and was -spreading, fan-like, forward and outwards. There came a swelling roar of -indignation. The deputation was suddenly swallowed up, and as they -disappeared the crowd began to find voice, elbowing this way and that, -in a fever of desperation, whilst over their heads there broke the -storm-cloud of rebellion. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - THE HOLD - - -For just one minute Rouse had stood at his window staring like one -transfixed into the night, his head a little to one side as if in hopes -of catching the gist of Pointon’s words. This had been hopeless. The -distance was too great and the breeze was blowing away from Morley’s. In -the growing dusk it had even been difficult to distinguish the crowd of -waiting boys outside the Head’s room sufficiently clearly to gather from -the sight how things were going. - -One sign alone gave him his cue. It was the silence. - -He had hoped forlornly for an outburst of fanatical cheering. That would -have meant that the day was won, that his selection stood, that the -coming year, in spite of these troublous opening days, would not, after -all, be lean. No sound whatever came. The hush was ominous. For just -that minute he stood, a lonely figure, at his open study window. Then -the answer reached him in a way that was unmistakable. - -The night was suddenly broken by a roar of clashing voices, a riotous -outburst of fierce cries, then the whole assembly was in sudden -movement. He strained his eyes for a clear sight of what was happening, -tried all he knew to catch the sense of all the clamour. No set phrase -reached him. All he could properly distinguish here and there in the -turmoil was the sound of his own name shouted again and again as if in -passionate loyalty by many voices that he could not recognise. - -But it was evidence enough. The last resort of discipline had failed. -The school had been irremediably snubbed. And, as he waited, there came -to him an almost dreaded thought. The school would still not take it. He -read this as the message of that chaotic shouting. They were coming for -him. The Head had dragged him from his high estate and the school would -not lie down that night until they had hoisted him up again, if only to -see him enthroned upon their shoulders as a little tin god, idolised and -ten times as strongly established as their captain now than ever before, -whatever the Head might have to say. - -It came to Rouse as a fear. - -He imagined himself hatefully in the limelight, a puffed-up and -imaginary hero without just cause. He had some inkling now as to the -temper of the school and he knew what it would mean. - -He listened again. They were certainly coming towards him. Above the -lasting din he could still hear his own name shouted ever and again. He -looked round his study nervously, suddenly spotted the lofty cupboard, -darted into it and shut the door gingerly behind him. - -Two minutes later the clatter of a great stampede was breaking the peace -of Morley’s. He crouched in his hiding-place and scarcely dared to -breathe. Soon the forerunners were pounding up the stairs and along the -passage shouting his name in turn as they came, with a desperate -affection that would not be denied. - -The door of his study flew open and he heard them tumble in one after -the other, and finally cry the news back to those behind. - -“He isn’t here. He’s gone!” - -This meant no ending to the uproar. He heard the message passed to those -on the road outside, in high-pitched voices that clamoured for ideas as -to where he could be hiding. Then those below, realising that they would -now be foremost in the search, turned excitedly, scrunching the gravel -underfoot, and made off towards the school again. But those who were in -the house intended first to make a proper job of it, while they were -here, and he heard them running like a pack of hounds into the common -room, and down to the dining-hall below, whilst all the time they -shouted for him pleadingly, hoping against vain hope that he would -answer and produce himself at last. - -Then, in the end, they seemed resolved that he was nowhere there, and -off they set in a stern chase after the body of the hunt, racing across -the open spaces towards the school again. - -He heard the placid tones of Mr Morley feebly remonstrating, then -threatening angrily, and towards the end entreating with them, but he -was brushed aside by mere strength of numbers and left in the hall of -his house shouting mildly after them to show their common-sense and keep -the peace. - -All this Rouse could hear and understand, and when the house seemed -quiet again he very cautiously opened the cupboard door and stretched -himself. Next moment he received the surprise of his life. The light was -suddenly switched on and revealed him. At the same time Terence -Nicholson spoke. - -“Come out,” said he. “Come along out, there’s a good fellow.” - -For a fleeting space Rouse was absolutely nonplussed and he could only -stare. Then he recovered himself with a miraculous effort, brushed his -clothes with his hand and stepped daintily out of the cupboard. - -“Absolutely _NO_ deception,” he observed. “Any gentleman in the audience -is fully at liberty to come up and examine both the lady _and_ the box.” -He paused. “Nobody? I thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your very -kind attention.” He bowed, paused again, rendered the National Anthem as -a cornet solo, cried: “Pass out quickly, please!” and finally stepped up -to Terence, who was regarding him with an affectionate pity and faced -him defiantly. - -“Now, how did you know I was in that cupboard?” said he. “And how on -earth did you come into this room without my hearing you?” - -“Elementary,” said Terence, “my jolly old Dr Watson. I came in with the -mob. When they ran out again I stayed here and slipped behind the door. -Nobody missed me, and as soon as they’d cleared off I simply waited for -you to come out. You see, old boy, there’s always something wrong with -your schemes. The light from the passage, for example, shone directly -upon the cupboard door, and it lit up with strange distinctness a tuft -of your coat which was protruding through the slit between the door and -the cupboard.” - -Rouse regarded his coat critically. - -“A nice piece of material, too,” said he. “Try the feel of it, sir.” - -Terence smiled grimly. - -“As soon as I saw you were _apparently_ not here, though, _I_ of course -looked towards that cupboard first.” - -“Thinking,” said Rouse gently, “to reach yourself a piece of pie so soon -as the place was clear. I’m inclined to think, young Nicholson, that you -were as surprised as I was.” - -Terence made an abrupt gesture. - -“The Head’s given his answer.” - -“What is it?” - -Terence told him. - -“The name of the new Rugger captain,” said he, “is Roe.” - -Rouse looked him through and through, the while his expression slowly -changed from one of puzzled misunderstanding to one of set resignation. - -He asked no questions. He just thought it out for himself whilst Terence -watched him. It was no use saying: “What do you mean?” The words were an -explanation in themselves. At last, however, he spoke. His face was a -little drawn and his eyes shone with an almost feverish light, but his -voice was natural. - -“Roe?” said he brightly. “Not _young_ Roe, the son of _old_ Roe?” - -Terence nodded. - -“Soft Roe, I expect,” continued Rouse, “the son of hard Roe.” - -There came a brief silence. Terence was clearly disinclined for mere -frivolity. He sat down at the table and supported his chin with both -hands. - -Rouse gazed at him fondly. - -“What an awful shame it is that all this trouble is about _me_. If only -you’d been the one, what a difference it would have made now. So far as -Rugger is concerned I do certainly believe I could have made a real -success of things, but instead of that you see what’s happening. Within -twenty-four hours I shall be looked to to lead a revolution. And,” he -added forcefully, “if you can imagine for one moment the buffoon I -should look strutting at the head of a mutinous procession in a red -nightcap, beating the air with a piece of old iron, you can see at once -how impossible it’s going to be. I tell you frankly, Nick, I shall be no -good at it at all....” He paused. “If only it had been _you_ all the -fuss was about, nobody could have preached rebellion from the top of an -egg-box with greater vehemence than I. No paid agitator could ever be a -more successful firebrand. I should have thoroughly had my heart in the -thing. As it is, I’m merely going to feel an unutterable fool from start -to finish. I’ve taken to blushing already—and any advertisement will -tell you what an awkward habit that is.” He sighed. “Besides,” he added, -“what line are we going to adopt? Do you suppose the fellow wants to -come here? If he’s anything of a man at all he’ll be fed up to the teeth -at leaving Wilton to come here like this. Supposing he refuses to take -it on. What then?” - -“The Head didn’t speak as though there was any chance of him refusing to -take it on,” said Terence. “He seems to have him pretty securely under -his thumb.” - -Rouse shook his head gloomily. - -“I’d far rather keep out of this. I’m beginning to feel unpleasantly -like a man trying to get elected for Parliament. Every time I say -anything decent to a chap I wonder whether he thinks I’m only saying it -so as to get his vote. I’ve a very strong desire to slide away quietly -and hide under a leaf.” - -“I know,” said Terence; “it isn’t for you to head a revolution. But if -they need someone to show ’em the way they haven’t got far to look. If -they want a leader—there’s me. I know you better than anyone else.... -I’m captain of cricket, too, and I know what’s wanted in the fellow that -skippers the school. That’s why I know what they’ve missed in losing -you. And this madman—who is he?—a stranger to the school—a miserable -outcast—whose first week’s work has been to trample down all the school -traditions and snub six hundred fellows with a snap of his fingers. -He’ll have to give in. Now that I come to think of it, I shouldn’t be -surprised if Toby fights on our side himself. All I can say is that if -he does the new Head’s well beaten from the start.” - -“Let’s go out for a stroll,” said Rouse. “No one will go to bed yet -awhile, and that horde of savages will be coming back after me in a -minute. We will escape into the night.” - -They moved out of the study and down the corridor slowly and in silence. -There was still an uncanny quiet about the house. Their footsteps echoed -from end to end of the passage. - -“Seems queer, doesn’t it?” said Terence. “Like being at school in -holiday time.” - -But on the floor below they heard voices. They were not distinct but -they were undoubtedly excited. It seemed that three or four people must -be debating some dark point behind the closed door of a study. Then -turning a corner they came unexpectedly upon the figure of Bobbie Carr, -his back against the wall, his thoughts evidently far away. His eyes -were fixed absent-mindedly on the study door, and at first he did not -hear footsteps. Looking up suddenly and noticing who came, he shot into -an attitude of alertness and watched them uncertainly. They stopped and -smiled at him. - -“Were you responsible for any of that hullabaloo outside?” demanded -Rouse. “Was that you calling out my name about ten minutes ago?” - -“I did cheer a bit,” admitted Bobbie. “Everyone’s looking for you. They -want to chair you round the school. They’re thinking of burning an -effigy of the Head too. Only they can’t find anything suitable to burn.” - -Terence slowly nodded his head. Next moment he had turned sharply. The -sound of those high-pitched voices had broken out anew. There was no -doubt now whence they came. They came from Coles’ study, and one of the -most prominent amongst them was the voice of Coles. He was addressing -his friends as “Gentlemen!” with a peculiar frequency; also his voice -had a froggy croak. - -Rouse turned his head and looked queerly at the door, glanced once at -Terence and finally bent a questioning eye on Bobbie. - -“Are you ... waiting for Coles?” - -Bobbie looked at them, in turn, in evident distress, and made no answer. -So they waited a moment, looked once again towards the door, and then -proceeded thoughtfully upon their way. - -Outside Morley’s they turned behind the house and strolled slowly under -the trees. Here was a point of vantage from which they could dimly see -the school; the still turbulent ranks of rebels arm-in-arm were -goose-stepping proudly up and down before the Head’s room, waiting as if -for news that Rouse had been unearthed, and all at once Terence found -himself distracted by an unexpected turn of events. It was the sound of -cautious footsteps on the gravel, and when he saw who was passing he -laid a hand upon Rouse’s arm and silently drew him round. Then, with a -finger upon his lips, he pointed with the other hand towards the wall of -Morley’s. - -It was none other than Henry Hope, and he was making his way laboriously -alongside the wall. Now and again he looked up at the windows and paused -as if guided by the increasing sounds of revelry that came from the only -occupied study in all the building. - -Neither of the two who watched him as he moved was quite clear what he -was about, but the sight was exceedingly diverting, and a slow and -puzzled smile came into Rouse’s countenance. - -“It’s Coles he’s after,” whispered Terence, after careful observation. -“What’s he going to do?” - -“Heave a brick at his window, perchance,” said Rouse, hoarse with -delight. “He’s got an idea that Coles has some mysterious kind of hold -over that kid Carr, and he says the way to find out what it is is to get -a hold on Coles. He’s starting by getting a hold on the drain-pipe, you -see. I hope he won’t let go. I shouldn’t at all like to see our Henry a -mere splash of vermilion on the gravel path. Fancy having to clean up -Henry with a spade....” - -His voice trailed away into silence. - -Slowly, and with considerable difficulty, Henry laboured up the pipe. -Once he paused and seemed to be grunting out a prayer for the strength -with which to continue. He looked down dizzily, then up again, and -finally, after a battle with his nerves, continued the perilous ascent. -At last he came opposite Coles’ window. He reached out a hand like that -of some family ghost, clutched the window-ledge, and drew himself up to -a moderately secure position. The moment had clearly come for the -dénouement. - -Henry was the master-detective in his element. He pulled his cap -furtively over one eye. Then he raised his hand and rapped three times -upon the window-pane. There came a sharp silence in the room, and -afterwards a sudden scuffle over chairs. Evidently Henry was to be -rewarded. Somebody could be heard coming to the window. Henry gritted -his teeth. He was going to see inside that room. He was going to get a -hold on Coles. He became absolutely tense with expectation. Assuredly -Coles would never dare to push him off the pipe. Coles was not prepared -to commit a horrid murder. Also his rear was safe from attack. Coles -could not kick him. The only possibility was that Coles might run out of -the house and throw pebbles. He was going to risk this. He would have -seen inside the room anyway. - -When at last the blind was slowly lifted, those within sustained a -terrible shock. Henry had thrust his face against the window so that his -nose was flatly upturned, hideous and blue, against the glass. The row -of faces that confronted him, the faces of Coles’ cronies, all slowly -backed terror-stricken before the alarming apparition, till only the -face of Coles was left, livid with fury and flushed with spirits flowing -from a teapot. He slowly pushed up the window, then his face came -forward telescopically on the end of a long neck until his beak-like -nose was almost touching Henry’s cheeks. - -“You cur,” said Coles, between his clenched teeth. “What—what on earth -are you doing here?” - -Henry quailed. Coles was too terrible for words. Nevertheless he peered -over the tops of his spectacles resolutely into the study, and at last, -still trying to be brave, he spoke in a deep voice: - -“I wanted to see inside your study. Thank you very much, I’ve seen all I -want to see.” - -Coles lifted his fist to strike, but realising the danger of a blow he -suddenly altered his mind and adopted a novel form of revenge that had -never come into Henry’s reckoning. - -He called his friends forward. - -“You see this,” said he, “a kid here spying—the kid Hope! I want you to -remember this.” He turned to Henry. “You know what happened to Peeping -Tom, don’t you? He tried to spy and he was sent blind—blind, I tell you. -We shall try the effect of that upon you.” - -He slowly stretched out his hands till they reached Henry’s face, and -Henry was powerless to resist. With considerable delight he slowly -unhooked Henry’s glasses from his ears and withdrew them from Henry’s -face. He held them in his fingers with an air of fastidious disgust, -looking at them and at Henry, and in the end he whirled his arm like a -lasso-king and let them go. They flew into the night, and he heard them -break on the gravel path into a hundred pieces. Then he shook his fist -in Henry’s face. - -“Now,” said he, “see whatever you like, and when you’re tired slide -down—and look out for the bump at the bottom.” - -He withdrew his head with a wrathful jerk, pulled down the blind again, -and after a moment Henry heard his voice coming from within again. - -“Now, gentlemen,” it was saying, “I think I’ll just go downstairs and -meet him.” - -For a moment Henry hung impotently where he was, a veritable monkey on a -stick. He looked downwards. He could see nothing. The night was dark, -and without his glasses he could scarcely distinguish the fingers upon -his hand. He felt for a grip. At last in utter misery and despair he -began to slip awkwardly down the pipe, and even as he went he heard -Coles come out of the house and shout to him: - -“You may as well hurry up. The longer you stay there the worse it will -be for you when you get to the bottom.” - -Henry looked down again. He could still distinguish nothing. He could -only feel his way. As his feet touched the ground Coles would leap upon -him out of the night. He would never see him coming. He would be unable -to protect himself in any way. Above all, he would have to stagger to -bed afterwards without his glasses. He would not even be able to find -the frames. Only the really short-sighted can understand what misery was -his just then. - -He went down stiffly, hand over hand, trying to keep his lips from -trembling. At last he felt the gravel under his feet, released his hold -of the drain-pipe and stood upright. From out the darkness Coles spoke. - -“Now,” said he, “you can make ready for the biggest hiding you ever -had.” - -Henry backed against the wall and tried to make out Coles’ expression by -screwing up his eyes till only little bead points of watery blue were -showing. It was no good. Coles was merely a vast blur blotting out all -hope. He felt a large hand upon his collar. - -“Now,” said Coles. - -And then, dramatically, there came from under the trees a sharp command. - -“Let him alone!” - -Henry shot to his full height, galvanised into hysterical delight. -Glasses or no glasses, he knew that for the voice of Rouse. - -He was saved. - -Coles spun on his heel. Two forms were bearing down upon him out of the -gloom, and he prepared for battle. He felt brave and bold, if a trifle -uncertain upon his feet. He shot his cuffs and stretched out both hands -ready to grasp these intruders in a bear-like hug. His face was flushed -and excited, his temper was nearing boiling point. After a struggle he -found his voice. - -“Who is that?” he demanded. “Who’s that? Come out and face me here! Come -out from under those trees, you creepy, crawly spies. Come out into the -open!” - -They came slowly towards him. As they drew near to Coles he recognised -them suddenly, and his voice cracked in a scream of anger. - -“W—what! _YOU!_ Was it _you_ sent this beastly little creature shinning -up that drain-pipe? He’s spying for _you_, is he? Well, of all the -rotten, low-down swine! D—d—d’you mean to say——” - -“The only thing I mean to say,” said Rouse, “is that I perceive you to -be tight.” - -Coles bounded forward. - -His words were not coherent. He only babbled. And when he could babble -no more he struck out. - -“_That’s_ not where I am,” said Rouse. “You want to aim _here_.” - -Coles turned dazedly, swinging both fists. - -For a while they watched him with keen interest. Finally, as he spun -round for the fifth time, Terence reached out and pushed him over. - -“It’s the cold air doing it,” said Rouse, peering at him distastefully. -“I should advise you to go in.” - -Next moment Coles had scrambled to his feet again and was staring up at -his window and shouting for assistance. - -“Hi! Hi! Come down here. There’s a gang of them and they’re setting -about me!” - -Henry turned wretchedly to Rouse. - -“My glasses,” said he. “Did you see them fall? D’you know where they -are? I should very much like the frames. I’ll have to find the frames.” - -Rouse made a few light passes over his hand, drew his cap from his head -and held it over his outstretched hand. At last he slowly raised it by -the tassel. The frames lay in his open palm. - -“There they are, sir,” said he. “The same that you saw this gentleman -throw into the audience.... Am I right, sir?” - -He turned sharply. There had come a sudden clatter of feet upon the -stairs of Morley’s and a handful of strangely excited young men were -tumbling pell-mell out of the door. Nobody had noticed Coles. He -appeared to have been merely waiting for aid. Yet at the sound of -approaching friends he took courage again. He fixed Rouse with a watery -eye, then he leaped viciously upon him from behind. His feet were -intertwined with Rouse’s legs. There was a short sharp struggle. Next -moment Rouse was free and had turned, judged his distance, and struck -accurately and with full force. The blow took Coles on the cheek-bone -and was altogether too much for him. He threw up his hands, spun -sideways and fell on his back. And as he lay he moaned softly to -himself: - -“_Come on_, oh, come on, you chaps! They’re all setting about me ... all -of them.” - -The chaps answered with a shout of allegiance and sprang upon his -assailants. There were four of them, and the first ran into Terence’s -straight left and recoiled with his hands to his face. The next seized -Rouse in his arms and, loudly shouting, endeavoured to secure a ju-jitsu -hold upon his neck. Rouse braced himself, wrenched away an arm and hit -downwards with all his strength at the other’s chin. - -The move was eminently successful, but it was too late. The last members -of the party had come up, and one had sprung on to his back and was -bearing him down. The other had almost got him by the ankles when -Terence came down on top of him with the full weight of his body, and he -met the gravel with his face. - -Then, loud above the scuffling and the angry cries of those upon the -ground, there sounded a deep-pitched angry bay. It was the sound of -Henry in distress. - -“Oh! Oh! I can’t _see_! I can’t see a _thing_! Who shall I hit? Where -are they? What shall I do? _I can’t_ see.” - -“Well, have a look at the ground then,” shouted an angry young man, and -with a violent push from the rear sent him headlong on to his face, -where he lay stiffly still and only bellowed the louder. - -“Who shall I hit, Terence, who shall I hit?” - -The end came as abruptly as the start. They were suddenly all upon their -feet and staring at each other. - -“What on earth are you playing at?” demanded somebody. “What’s it all -about anyway?” - -“It’s about _them_,” cried Coles, walking forward like a somnambulist. -“They’re spies.” - -He lifted a hand and pointed at them stiffly. - -Rouse made a gesture of appeal. - -“If you fellows aren’t as bad as he is, take him in. He doesn’t look at -all nice.” - -He saw them looking at one another almost sheepishly, some even dazedly, -then one of them heaved a sigh and reached out a courteous and helping -hand towards Coles. The others gathered round. There was a slow and -stately forward move.... Up the steps they went with their sorry leader, -and out of sight into the house. Thus Rouse and Terence were left alone, -each with a friendly hand upon Henry’s shoulder, as out of the darkness -there came a small and shadowy form, and the weary voice of Bobbie Carr -was wafted towards them upon the breeze. - -“Can I do anything to help?” he was saying. “What is it? Can I do -anything to help?” - -Rouse beckoned to him. - -“Yes,” said he, “you can. You can take Brighteyes to bed. He can’t see -very plainly where he’s going.” - -Bobbie came up to Henry and looked at him. - -“What’s the matter, Hope?” - -“It’s my glasses,” said Henry. “All I’ve got left is the frames.” He -sighed lugubriously. “It doesn’t matter,” said he. “I’ve got a hold on -Coles anyway, and it may be very useful.” - -It was his farewell. Without another word he suffered himself to be led -away into the house. - -It was after the two who still remained had wandered on, skirting the -school in order to save Rouse from his friends, that they met Toby. He -was standing outside Seymour’s, smoking a pipe and talking to the house -master. He came up to them and strolled side by side along the roadway -until at last Terence said: - -“It means rebellion, and if they want me to, I’m going to lead it.” - -For a while Toby spoke no word. Only the smoke curled quietly upwards -from his pipe. - -Eventually he answered: - -“Yes, of course. I don’t see how you can do anything else. There isn’t -much doubt that by a step like this the Head has put himself outside the -pale. The only thing is what line you ought to take.” - -“Why, a rebellion,” said Terence again. - -“If by a rebellion you mean making a cock-shy of the school, old son, -I’m not sure that we shan’t be doing ourselves more harm than good. It -doesn’t take much imagination to see what that will lead to. -Sport—work—reputation—everything busted—and over the chaos of it all the -villain sitting with a cheerful smile, whilst you take note what you’ve -done for yourselves. We want to keep our dignity. We want to carry on so -that any outsider who hears of this and can weigh both sides will have -no doubt who was in the right. And, particularly, we want to fight as -the Grey Man would have us fight.” - -The changed expression on Terence’s face showed that he considered -himself rebuked by one of the few men from whom he could take a rebuke -in kindly spirit. - -“What do you think we ought to do about it, then?” - -“Listen,” said Toby, “and if an Old Boy may be allowed his say I will -tell you.” - - * * * * * - -It was two minutes later when Rouse looked up with a start. Whilst he -had been listening to that philosophical counsel Toby had shrewdly been -guiding his footsteps towards the school. They had turned a corner, and -now all three stopped short. They were on top of a vast, impatient -throng. - -“Go to them,” said Toby. “They’ve had their night out and when they’ve -had you a bit p’r’aps they’ll go to bed without smashing anything. And -if I were you I should tell them what you’re going to do. Let them into -the secret. They’ll feel more satisfied then.” He gave Rouse a final pat -on the back, then slipped away. - -For a brief space Rouse stood stock-still. Then through a break in the -dark veil of the skies the moon flashed her bull’s-eye upon him and he -stood revealed—just as Terence had discovered him making his exit from -the cupboard. - -There came a loud, delighted bellow from the nearest group and it was -too late for escape. Rouse darted frantically to a flank, but he was -held by a high wall and he turned and waited for them helplessly. From -every possible direction his beloved followers bore down. They closed in -and would not be denied. There came a scuffle in the dark, then he was -lifted up and at last he could be seen in his rightful place, perched -upon the shoulders of those nearest to him and clutching a tuft of hair -in each hand for support. - -A stately concourse formed up on either side and slowly surged forward, -taking new shape as they ranged themselves formally outside the -stained-glass windows and broke into song. - -They had hoped that the Head would presently appear. No sound that he -could even hear their chanting of allegiance was forthcoming. - -Finally it occurred to them that he might not be there and the next best -thing was clearly a grand procession round the school. - -The bearers turned unsteadily about and moved away. - -As they went, to the crashing music of the Harley song, watching them go -stood Terence, still where Rouse had left him, with a smile of -satisfaction about his lips. - -There also watched the new Headmaster, who, unknown to any, had been -peering crossly at them with one straining eye through a chink in the -heavy curtains. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - CIRCUMSTANCES HAVE ARISEN - - -Christopher Woolf Roe was painfully surprised. He had arrived at Harley -by a train previously notified to his father in bold and legible -handwriting and not a soul had met him. He had not exactly expected an -ornamental awning over the station exit, but he had presumed that -somebody of standing in the school would have been waiting upon the -platform keenly peering into the carriages as the train came in; -somebody who would escort him to the school and introduce him to its -leading lights, who would converse with him amiably as they went along -the highroad, congratulating him repeatedly upon his delightful father. - -There had, as a matter of fact, been a suggestion made that he should be -received by a comb-and-paper band comprised of school prefects who would -march funereally in front of him all the way from the station to the -school, but word from Terence Nicholson had gone forth that this would -not be in keeping with school dignity. - -Hence he had come unwelcomed and unsung. - -Arrived at the school, he had sought out his father. His father had been -out. This had put the finishing touch to his complete depression. So -far, all he knew was that, according to his father’s letter, -circumstances had arisen which made it advisable that he should come to -Harley. Another letter to the new Head of Wilton had intimated, possibly -in more detail, that he should do so as soon as possible, and this had -turned out to be in three days’ time. But as to the real why and -wherefore, and as to what the circumstances were he was still completely -in the dark. - -He sought for aid. - -The school porter fetched the bursar, who told him that he would be in -Seymour’s house, and who coldly pointed out the way to him with a -pencil. Here another porter had shown him to a vacant study. On the way -there he had, of course, passed any number of boys. Not one solitary -soul amongst them, from the oldest to the youngest, had paid the -slightest attention to him. He might have been invisible. - - * * * * * - -Two hours later he had seen his father and he understood. - -“The secretary,” Dr Roe had told him, “is a boy called Smythe.” - -He sought Smythe out. - -Smythe was sitting in his study hidden behind a book, and his first -impression when, having said “Come in,” he peered over the top of his -volume to see who came, was that a stray pig was nosing into the room, -and he rose with a sweeping gesture intending to drive it out. But as -seconds passed he was held spellbound. Behind the snout, which was all -he had first seen, and to either side of it, appeared two little -pig-like eyes. He also perceived two pouting lips. Finally, when the -head came properly into view around the door, Smythe became alarmed. - -“_Come in!_” he commanded angrily. “Come in, man!” - -The visitor entered slowly, with short steps, and when he was -approximately in the centre of the room he halted. - -“I’m Roe,” he observed. - -Smythe withstood the shock with the greatest gallantry. All the same, he -did not extend his hand in a warm welcome. He just looked. - -“I understand,” observed the other, “that I am to be captain of football -here, and that _you_ are secretary.” - -He had pointed at Smythe accusingly and now he beamed. - -Smythe hastened to correct him. - -“A few days ago I _was_,” said he; “but I have just completed my duties, -and now I have resigned. So far as I know there is _no_ footer secretary -in this school at present.” - -“No secretary! But why not?” - -“Because,” said Smythe logically enough, “there is no football.” - -“But surely——” said the other. “Why ... I’m _captain_ of football.” - -“I believe you are,” responded Smythe; “but my last duty was to scratch -the whole of our fixtures for the season.” - -Roe was visibly shaken. - -“Of course,” added Smythe presently, “it’s a rotten position for you.” - -“No, no,” replied the new boy. “_I_ don’t mind a bit. We must arrange -some more fixtures now that _I’ve_ come.” - -For a moment Smythe stared at him. Then he turned, reached for his book, -sat down and commenced to read. - -“I must make some notices out,” said Roe. “You must introduce me to the -team.” - -He waited hopefully for an answer. Smythe merely turned over a page. - -“Of course,” continued Roe, “when I first heard about this I was only -told that circumstances had arisen which made it desirable that I should -leave Wilton.” - -Smythe looked up. - -“Well, I can tell you now,” said he, “that the circumstances which have -arisen make it very desirable that you should go back to Wilton as -speedily as you came.” - -“You mean to say, then, that there isn’t going to be any football at -all?” - -“There will be house games only—under the control of the games master—a -matter of arrangement between the captains of the houses. There will be -no football which will require the services of a school captain—no -school matches. And I have resigned.” He paused. “I commend that example -to you,” he observed. - -Next moment he was deep in his book again. - -Roe looked miserably round the study. - -“Why did he fetch me from Wilton then?” - -“Goodness only knows! It may be that he wanted you to see the country.” - -“But,” said Roe, “this is all rot. I’ve got definite instructions from -my father. He told me distinctly that I——” - -“You go back to him,” said Smythe, “and make sure that you heard him -correctly. Tell him what you’ve found out. And if I were you I should -ask him whether you can’t go back.” He moved across the room and opened -the door. “This is the way out,” said he. - - * * * * * - -That evening Smythe recounted this incident to Rouse. - -“I also have seen the man,” was the answer. “I made a point of it. I -went up to him and I said: ‘Bless me, I seem to know your face. Yet you -haven’t been at this school so long, surely?’ He said: ‘I came to-day. -My name is Roe.’ I pounced upon him. ‘Roe!’ said I. ‘Go on! Not,’ I -said, ‘_young_ Roe, the son of old Roe? Why, I know your father as well -as anything. Your father and I are the best of friends. Many a time have -I discussed your future with him in his private sanctum over a bowl of -tea. “The boy,” we have always said, breaking a muffin between us—“the -boy, now, what will he become?”’ He said: ‘I’ve become captain of -football,’ but he didn’t seem very pleased about it. So I patted him -kindly on the shoulder. ‘Ah,’ said I, ‘come now. Not captain of -football—surely.... Why, this school doesn’t _play_ football.’ ‘What -does it play, then?’ said he. ‘Spillikins,’ said I. ‘I expect you’re -captain of that.’” - - * * * * * - -In accordance with his instructions, Roe reported to his father next -morning and explained things as well as he could. - -“The most decent fellow I’ve met so far,” said he, “is a chap called -Coles. He’s in the First Fifteen, he tells me, and he does seem to have -the best interests of the school at heart. He told me a good deal of -what’s in the wind, too. The fellows were pretty near an open rebellion -at one time, but it seems that Mr Nicholson, the games master, spoke to -the chief boys in each house at a meeting, and he’s persuaded them that -the reputation of the school comes first, and now it seems they’re going -to try what they call passive resistance. Smythe, who you told me was -secretary to the team, has resigned, and his last act was to scratch the -school fixtures for the season. The only football they’re going to play -is inter-house friendlies. The games master persuaded them that as long -as they kept up practice for the younger chaps the school wouldn’t -suffer so much. So the whole school are standing on their dignity, and -Coles says that the next move’s with us.” - -He stopped. So far he had spoken in a sing-song voice that was -significant of blind obedience to his father; he seemed to have told the -Head not so much what he as schoolboy thought, as just what he believed -his father would most like to hear. - -Dr Roe clasped his hands and leaned forward over the table. - -“Certainly the next move is with us. And for this reason. There can be -no question of warfare between boys and their Headmaster. They must be -made to yield to discipline. They may not like my views, but those -views, right or wrong, whichever they be, will be forced upon them.” - -His son ventured to speak again. - -“This boy Coles is almost the only chap who has spoken to me decently, -and he says that, although at the moment the school is solid for Rouse, -he believes that in about a fortnight’s time they will begin to grow -tired of being without school rugger and that their present enthusiasm -will wane. He says that that will be my chance. If I can step into the -breach _then_ I shall probably get a few boys to join me in starting a -First Fifteen again—just a few at first—but by degrees more and more -will turn and side with me. He says that if I play my cards well we -shall have a proper school team again by half-term, and that only Rouse -and his closest friends will be missing from it.” - -The Head fixed him with a penetrating glance. - -“That is this boy’s honest belief?” - -Roe nodded his head. - -“It’s mine too,” said the Head cleverly. - -“There’s one other thing,” continued the son. “Smythe, as I tell you, -has resigned. There’s no school secretary. I shall have to have one -because I shan’t know the chaps. Coles pointed that out. He said I -should need someone to tell me whom to give colours to and all that. He -says that at present it might be unwise for _his_ name to be mentioned, -but that as soon as things have settled down a bit and the fellows have -got used to the idea that I’ve come, and that I mean to stop, they may -decide to make the best of it, and then he——” - -The Head made a sudden noise of keen satisfaction. He nodded his head -briskly. - -“Quite,” said he, “quite. I take his point. You think now that he—he is -already a member of the school team, you say?—he is a capable -footballer?” - -“Oh yes, he is one of the most senior players here.” - -“You think he would be willing to become the secretary?” - -The boy blinked his pig-like eyes and smiled. - -“It would make the fellow who has resigned look so silly, wouldn’t it, -if he found we got another one in his place so easily? Smythe was really -very impertinent to me.” - -The Head pursed his lips. - -“I will see this boy,” he announced. “Ask him to come and speak to me -to-morrow.” - -Roe nodded. At last he leaned forward dutifully. He shifted awkwardly -upon his seat. - -“I’ve talked it over with Coles ... and we rather hope you might be able -to move him to my house.... And if you can do it ... as if it were -compulsory ... so that fellows wouldn’t know he’d asked for it ... he -thinks that then he and I might get a decent team together in -Seymour’s.... He has some very good friends in that house ... and if we -could get up a little excitement by challenging Morley’s, who at present -have the best Fifteen, to a friendly ... and beat them ... Coles thinks -it might turn the tide in our favour.” - -The Head smiled shrewdly. - -There was silence. - -“How did you find out all this?” said he. “How did you meet Coles?” - -Roe dipped into the recesses of his memory. - -“Why, he came up to me ... and held out his hand ... and then he said: -‘Circumstances have arisen which make you very welcome. Come and have a -chat in my study.’ That’s how it was.” - - * * * * * - -The following day Roe appeared in school with the colours tie of the -Harley First Fifteen knotted around his neck, and the result was -immediately evident. Rouse and Smythe, the only two in the school who -were entitled to wear that tie without the formality of winning it back -for the coming season, were forthwith to be noted wearing the neat black -tie of Harley’s mourning. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - SOMETHING UP HIS SLEEVE - - -One week later that bubbling effervescence which had been the outward -and visible sign of the school’s unrest had very largely subsided. - -Harleyans were once more going in dignity about their ways. - -At morning prayers those who knew best the temper of the school looked -out over the sea of faces, all of which seemed calmly set as if in -resignation. - -It was true that there had been a couple of friendly matches between -houses, but real enthusiasm was lacking. There was over all that hard -fact that however well a fellow played he could not win his colours. -There were not going to be any colours. This hit the rising and -ambitious youngsters badly. - -Roe himself had kept discreetly quiet. - -The Head had made no further mention of the matter, except to cause it -to be known that his own son was Harley’s official Rugger captain. - -And through this time of fasting, watching the lean year that had been -his dread as it came upon the school and gripped it, Rouse bore himself -blithely, true to himself, his sorrow hidden under a mask of gaiety that -only deceived the few. - -One day Bobbie Carr received a letter, and the next day he went forth -into the open country and, striking the footpath that led from the -school into the woods, branched away from it and came upon a stile. Upon -this stile he settled himself to wait. - -He had not to wait long, and this was fortunate, because he was -continually looking about him in fear lest somebody should come upon him -waiting there. - -At last, looking over the open fields, he saw a distant figure coming -towards him along the trodden pathway, and he knew it at a glance. He -jumped up and waved, saw the answering gesture and started forward; then -suddenly remembered and stopped and looked round dubiously. He was best -hidden from prying eyes in the corner where he had waited, and so he -drew back under the trees and possessed himself in patience until at -last the man had come and he could grip him by the hands. - -“Father,” said he. - -The man drew him affectionately against the stile, and leaned there in -real content for a while before he spoke. - -“It’s a roundabout way from the station,” he said at last. “Still, I -know the country. It’s a good meeting-place.” - -He paused. There was clearly something else upon his mind—something that -had made him come; something that Bobbie had read between the lines of -his letter. He asked at last quietly enough: - -“You’ve kept the secret, Bobbie? Nobody’s found out? Nobody knows?” - -For the fraction of a second Bobbie hesitated. Then he spared his father -the truth that need not necessarily be told, and shook his head. - -“I’ve told no one, of course.” - -The man seemed honestly relieved. He began to ask questions about school -and the new life; the conversation opened on to a wider field. Time -passed. - -It must have been an hour later that his father at last held out both -hands, said good-bye abruptly and turned away. Bobbie watched him as he -went slowly back along the pathway, and for the first time since he had -been at school he was conscious of a kind of home-sickness. His father -was so evidently lonely. - -He did not turn until the figure on the pathway had passed out of sight, -and then he did so regretfully and started back to school. And as he -went his father’s warning drummed in his head: “Just this once and then, -I think, never again. But until it is over you must promise me that not -even your best friend here shall know your secret. You can’t understand -as I can what they would say of you here if they knew. And I may not be -able to keep my right name out of the papers.” - -Those had been his father’s final words. And all the way back to the -school he kept remembering them. - -Outside Morley’s Coles met him. He was carrying a handful of belongings -and he wore a cunning smile upon his countenance. - -“Carr,” said he, “I have something to say to you.” - -“Yes,” said Bobbie. - -“I’m leaving Morley’s.” He paused. “It’s the Head,” he explained. “For -some reason or other he wants me in Seymour’s. There’s no help for it. -I’ll have to go. It’s an order.” - -He gazed into the distance. Bobbie’s heart beat quickly with delight. To -lose Coles would be an unprecedented joy. It was a stroke of luck upon -which he had never reckoned. He turned to Coles with shining eyes and -seemed about to thank him cordially for going. - -Coles looked down upon him with calculated craft. - -“Don’t be under any misapprehension,” said he. “I have explained to the -Head exactly how things are—and you—are going too.” - -Bobbie gaped. - -“What? _Explained to him?_ What have you explained?” - -“That I know your family, and that you are rather specially entrusted to -my care. I have told him how anxious I am to have you under my wing, and -so—he has at last consented to you coming too.” - -After a minute’s utter silence he spoke again. - -“You don’t seem overjoyed?” - -Still Bobbie did not answer. - -He was wondering how he would get on without Henry Hope at his side, and -what Henry would say about him going without a word of protest. - -“Anyway,” said the persecutor, “don’t forget our bargain. If there -should be any talk of you staying behind, if they should ask you, you’ll -know what to say, won’t you?” He waited a moment, looking at Bobbie -straightly. “Won’t you?” - -“Yes,” said Bobbie at last. “I suppose so.” - - * * * * * - -It was evening. - -Over a study table Terence and Rouse faced one another. Rouse had his -chin resting in one hand, and his expression was that of a young man -wrestling with a mighty problem. - -“You see,” said he, “Seymour’s have challenged us to a friendly.” - -“Who really issued the challenge?” - -“That,” admitted Rouse, “I don’t quite know. It appears to have -originated from Mr Seymour himself, and to have been received by Mr -Morley—probably in a parchment envelope handed up on a silver salver.” - -“Never mind,” said Terence. “Let’s play them.” - -“Oh yes, we’ll play them. Only I’m trying to reason out what’s in the -wind. You see, Roe is in Seymour’s.” - -“True. I’d forgotten that.” - -“And the chances are that if he wants to captain the side the other -fellows in Seymour’s will have something to say about it.” - -“I suppose they want to play us because we’re the strongest house and -they rather fancy their weight.” - -“One would imagine that was the idea. Only neither Betteridge nor -Saville seems to know much about it.” - -Rouse suddenly leaned forward. - -“Nick,” said he, “there’s villainy afoot.” - -“Villainy?” - -“Yes. I don’t know what that means. It’s a phrase of Henry’s concoction. -We might get hold of a cheap dictionary and get an interpretation of the -words.... Anyway, that’s what he says—and it’s impossible to listen to -Henry for long without coming to the conclusion that there’s something -in what he says.” - -“What is the villainy?” - -“Henry is now out on the trail trying to find out. But his judgment -arises from a variety of facts and certain suspicions.” - -He paused and for a while there was silence. - -“As a matter of fact,” said Terence, at last, “there’s something on your -mind, old top, and you may as well tell me what it is.” - -Rouse succumbed. - -He leaned forward, almost as if grateful for this touching invitation. - -“Well, it’s this. Supposing the chaps get tired of all this? Supposing -an agitator or two start moving about amongst them, saying: ‘Hang it -all, what does it matter to you or me _who_ the captain is? Let’s get -our footer’? Supposing the masters get on to them and say: ‘Your -schooldays are the happiest time of your life and they will never come -again. Why starve yourselves of all that makes them most worth while -just because of a silly prejudice?’ You see what I mean? Supposing they -give in?” - -“Well, supposing they do?” - -“Nothing,” said Rouse, in a small voice; “only it would make me look -rather a fool.” - -“Also,” said Terence, “in the light of all they’ve said it would show -that they hadn’t got much respect for the traditions of the school. You -still don’t understand the temper of the school in the least or you -wouldn’t talk like that. Why on earth _should_ they give in?” - -“Because,” said Rouse, “it’s my belief that there’s somebody at work -trying to make them. Why,” he demanded, after a moment’s pause, “are the -Head and his abominable son so suspiciously quiet? Nearly three weeks of -term have gone. Why are they making no attempt to bring the chaps to -heel as promised? Soon the headmasters of other schools and the parents -of some of the fellows here will be writing to the Head to ask why we -are not playing footer. I tell you they’re sitting quiet because they’re -waiting for something to happen. I believe Henry’s right. There’s -villainy afoot.” - -He glared at Terence challengingly. - -In the following silence there came the sound of footsteps in the -passage and both looked up. The footsteps were stopping at the study -door. There came a knock. - -“Come in,” said Rouse. - -They turned in their chairs to see who came. There was a second’s -dramatic wait. Then the door moved open and the visitor came in. He -looked at them over the tops of his spectacles and made slowly for the -table, and reaching it, he stood there looking first at one and then at -the other. - -“What is it, Henry?” asked Rouse. - -“It’s this,” said Henry. “All that I told you is true. This evening -Coles is moving into Seymour’s. He says that it’s an order from the -Head.” He stopped and watched the effect of this news upon them. And -then he said: “All Coles’ friends are in Seymour’s. Of course you know -that.” - -Still they made no comment. They were only looking at each other -significantly. - -Henry made ready to drop his bomb. - -“That’s enough,” said he. “It makes a lot of things clear to me. But -it’s not all. I told you Coles had a hold over that kid Carr. Well, -Carr’s going over to Seymour’s _with_ him—and he’s very nearly blubbing -about it. That’s all.” - -Rouse had struck the table with his fist. The mystery of the challenge -was at last transparent to him. - -“But ... Carr?” said Terence. “Why? Why Carr? Why’s _he_ going?” - -“Because,” said Henry, “Coles says that he was put in his care by Carr’s -own people, and the Head believes him.” - -“Well, what’s _Coles_ going for himself? What’s the idea? Why is it?” - -Henry drew himself up. His eyes were blazing behind the round windows of -his spectacles. He clenched his hands. - -“What’s he going for?” said he. “It’s as plain as a pikestaff. He’s -going to join hands with the enemy. He knows that he hasn’t a chance -here, in the very house where Rouse is loved most, and so he’s going. -Coles has got something up his sleeve.” - -“Henry,” said Terence, “you may be right. I believe you are. But there’s -one thing you don’t know.” - -“What?” said Henry, as if unable to believe the accusation. - -“This. If Coles is reckoning on playing upon the feelings of the chaps -who want their Rugger, then Smythe has got something up _his_ sleeve -that’ll knock Coles silly.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - THE FIRST ROUND - - -Christopher Woolf Roe was in a painful predicament. Behind him, urging -him on, he felt the hot breath of impending paternal wrath, and knew -that if he failed in this, the most important duty his father had ever -set him, he would be disgraced; as likely as not he would at no far -distant date be cut off with the proverbial shilling. Already his father -was growing impatient. The notion that he was having to await the -school’s pleasure before securing their obedience was to him exceedingly -displeasing. The exemplary patience he had displayed when first the -helpfulness of Coles had come before his notice had not proved of an -abiding nature. Moreover, the gradual attention of outsiders was being -attracted to the school. The scratching of their fixtures for the season -had been commented upon, and he felt that unless evidence of the -successful nature of his handling of this situation were forthcoming -very shortly his dignity would be seriously endangered. Of all this his -unhappy son was fully aware, yet he could see before him only the -adamant forbearance of a school unanimously resolute, and the keen -dislike in which he was personally held was not at all encouraging. - -Altogether things were rotten. - -Coles, however, had certainly been exceptionally decent, and his charm -of manner had weighed a good deal with the Head too. There was comfort -to be gained from the certainty that Coles knew what was what. Coles was -a very good fellow. He was very grateful to Coles. - -“Leave it to me,” Coles had said, and he had left it to Coles willingly. - -Standing in the centre of a small group Coles was striving one afternoon -to justify this touching confidence. He had spoken at length. Ultimately -he looked round the solemn countenances of those about him to judge the -effect of his words. Except upon the faces of his two cronies, who, -since they were not prominent footballers, were not of great account, he -could not see one hopeful sign. For the rest there was a stiffly -decorous silence. At last Saville, who, as one of the only two old -colours in Seymour’s, had been leaning gracefully against a wall, raised -his voice. - -“The point at issue is this,” he announced. “You can’t get away from the -fact that the Head has insulted our house by thrusting his son on us -like this, and we’re very sore. So far we haven’t even had the face to -turn out a house team at footer simply because we were afraid that Roe -might want to play. Now some misguided idiot—apparently Seymour -himself—has gone to Morley in secret and arranged a challenge which -Morley’s have accepted, and after that it’s clearly up to us to play. -But we don’t want Roe on the side, and we’re not going to have him.” - -“Oh, come,” said Coles, plausibly enough. “Be broad-minded about it. You -don’t suppose Roe’s very happy about all this, do you? It isn’t a very -jolly position for a fellow. I’ve had a few chats with him, and I can -tell you he’d far rather not be here. What’s the use of denying -ourselves even house Rugger just to spite him out of a game? What’s -wrong with playing for the house? Most of us are nearly eating our -hearts out for a game.” - -“You haven’t got much to grumble about,” said Saville pertly. “You had -two games for Morley’s before you came here. And now that I come to -think of it, why _did_ you come here? Can you tell us that?” - -Coles shrugged his shoulders. - -“I’ve never been able to find out. But it’s my personal belief that it -was just an idea of the Head’s to break up what he thought was Rouse’s -clique.” - -“Why didn’t he move Nick, then?” - -Coles was unable to reply. He made a little further play with his -shoulders. - -“I’ll tell you why it was,” said Saville. “It was because, having shoved -his confounded son in here, he wanted to build up a strong house side -for him to have at his back. And he pounced on you for a start because -he thought you might be amenable to reason. A little later on he’ll move -someone else in here, so that eventually Rouse will be left with a dud -house team, and we in Seymour’s shall have the nucleus of a school -Fifteen. He thinks we shall be as pleased as Punch about that and keep -on clapping his son on the back every time we see him.” - -Coles shook his head. - -“I don’t think that for a minute.” - -“Well, I do,” opined Betteridge, from a modest position on the outskirts -of the group. - -Coles turned and looked at him as if pointing him out with his beak-like -nose. - -“And,” added the interrupter, “so do a good many other people.” - -“You’re all making a great mistake,” said Coles. “In years to come -you’ll be sorry you mucked your Rugger like this. Personally I was -always in favour of Rouse as skipper, and I think that to have brought -his own son here was a beastly thing for the Head to have done, and so -does Roe himself. But that’s no reason for cutting off your own nose to -spite your face. It’s agreed that we don’t lose any dignity by indulging -in house friendlies, and if we’re going to play a match let’s get out -our best side. I believe Roe is a very hot forward, and even if we won’t -let him be captain that’s no reason why the poor blighter shouldn’t have -a game. He needn’t be skipper.” - -“Ah!” said Saville, “that’s just it. He’ll want to be.” - -Coles made a sly gesture with his hand. - -“You leave it to me. I’ll have a word with him. He’ll quite see your -point of view. We’ll fix that up all right.” - -“We should like him to come on the field walking a modest distance -behind everybody else,” said Betteridge. “That’s what we should like. -You might tell him that, will you?” - -“You leave that to me,” repeated Coles magnanimously. “He’ll quite see -the sense of not forcing himself to the front. And I do think it’d be a -pretty rotten exhibition of sportsmanship to tell him he can’t even play -on the side at all.” - -He paused and looked round them blandly. Nobody responded to his -glances; every head had turned instead towards the big clock over the -school which was striking the hour, and next moment the group had -swiftly dispersed and Coles was left alone looking after them. He was -himself in no special hurry. As a matter of fact, he had an appointment -with the house master. - -At last he slowly pursed his lips and nodded his head. - -They would let Roe play. Half the battle had been won. - - * * * * * - -It was a day to be appreciated, and in token of the fact the whole of -Morley’s were ranged along one touch-line and the greater part of -Seymour’s along the other, whilst sprinkled here and there in the crowd -were representatives of lesser houses expressing their opinion on this -game in the detached manner of disinterested onlookers. There were also -a couple of spare balls being kicked about, and even those who had never -the patience to watch houses other than their own playing had come -running to the scene at the prospect of getting in a few kicks -themselves. After all, in these days good Rugger was rare. Except where -Morley’s were concerned, there had not been any great zest in the house -friendlies played to date. It had been too evident that these games -would not lead to anything. - -But a trial of strength between Morley’s and Seymour’s, with the latter -strengthened by the inclusion of Coles at the expense of the former, -gave promise of being a little out of the ordinary. Besides Rouse was -playing on one side, and it was understood that Roe might be discovered -upon the other. There was a chance of the two meeting. - -“Perhaps,” one young man said hopefully, “perhaps Rouse’ll scrag him.” - -There came at last a significant stir along the crowded ropes. The -reason was apparent. Morley’s were coming out. - -From the stone steps beside the cloisters from which the chosen of -Seymour’s would presently appear Coles had stood watching, and now he -turned suddenly to those below and nodded to them. - -“Morley’s have gone out,” said he. “Are we all here?” There was no -immediate answer. He glanced at the young man beside him. “Come along, -Roe. We’ll move off.” - -The words were scarcely above a whisper, but Roe turned obediently and -proceeded into the open beside him, seemingly proud and happily at his -ease. Out on to the gravel path he went, and then quite suddenly he was -struck by a curious silence behind him, and he turned and cautiously -looked over his shoulder. Then he understood. The team were huddled in a -group at the bottom of the steps, staring after him dully, very still -and very haughty, and not one fellow amongst them all had so much as -moved his foot. - -He reached out nervously and plucked at Coles’ arm. - -“I say ... stop ... I say ... they aren’t coming! They haven’t moved!” -The peculiar stupidity of his position struck him then with force. -“We’re _all alone_.” - -Coles stopped and spun on his heel. Next moment he had darted back down -the steps, but Roe stood like a derelict pig where he had been left, -frozen with astonishment, looking first towards the field where Morley’s -were waiting and then towards the team who wouldn’t come. From every -possible direction boys were staring at him rudely. He knew the -horrifying shame of some scene-shifter slow in removing himself from the -stage and discovered in a ridiculous attitude at the lifting of the -curtain. - -Coles had darted into that flock like an angry shepherd, but they -stubbornly refused to scatter. - -“What is it? Why don’t you come? Morley’s are waiting.” He made an -impatient gesture. “What’s the trouble?” - -Betteridge replied. He was standing with folded arms, Napoleonically, -outside the changing-room, and he spoke emphatically: - -“It’s only a matter of form. But isn’t it usual for the captain of the -side to go out first?” - -“Great Scott, what does it matter? Isn’t the game the thing that counts -most? As a matter of fact, you may not know it, but the Head’s outside. -He’s been standing over there in the corner for the last ten minutes and -he’s waiting to see us come out. The reason Roe went out with me was -because if he didn’t the Head would be as wild as anything. He’s only -walking with me so as to satisfy the Head. He doesn’t care twopence -whether he’s captain of the side or not.” - -“And what’s the idea of _you_ going in front?” asked Betteridge, and his -tone was very cold. “Until to-day the supposition has been that Saville -was captain of footer in Seymour’s.” - -There was a moment’s ominous silence. - -Coles stared at him fixedly. At last he answered: - -“I see what’s in the wind. A little petty jealousy. As a matter of fact, -I believe I’m the senior man in the First Fifteen here, and I saw no -particular need to wait for anyone else to go first. All I wanted was to -prevent giving the idea that Roe was shoving himself to the front.” - -“The understanding was,” said Betteridge, “that Roe was going to walk -behind. As for you being senior in the First Fifteen, there isn’t any -First Fifteen! All we’re concerned with here is the house side, and -Saville happens to be the elected captain.” - -“It doesn’t matter a cuss to me,” snapped Coles, “who walks on first. It -isn’t a confounded Court procession, is it? My idea is to get a game of -Rugger, and you raving idiots are going the right way to get house -Rugger stopped altogether by the Head. You can bet your life that if the -Head sees Roe walking on all alone and behind everybody else, when he’s -been appointed captain, he’ll have something rather interesting to say -about it.” He made a sudden angry gesture. His hot temper was rising -swiftly to the surface. “Personally, I’m going out to the field how I -like and I’m not going to wait for anyone else to tell me when I’m to -go, and if by the time I get to the half-way line you chaps are still -crouching down here, I’ll tell Rouse the match is off.” - -“I think he’ll understand that as soon as he sees you walking arm-in-arm -with Roe,” said Saville, speaking for the first time. “And I rather -imagine you’ll be chased off the field. It may turn out that these seats -will be the best after all for watching that part of the show.” - -[Illustration: - - “‘THE MATCH IS SCRATCHED, SIR,’ SAID HE.”] - -“What the deuce do you mean?” cried Coles, in a sudden scream of wrath. -“Do you mean to say I’m trying to curry favour with the Head?” - -“I mean to say,” said Saville, “that it was your idea that Roe should be -allowed to play, and we agreed on the distinct understanding that he -wasn’t going to be captain. Now it’s your idea that he should walk in -front, and I wonder you don’t want to go and sprinkle roses in front of -him as he goes.” - -“It’s for the sake of the game, you utter ass! What do I care who goes -in front! I want my Rugger.” - -“Then you can jolly well have it,” snapped Betteridge. “And you can play -it in your own backyard.” - -Coles turned towards him, and for one moment he looked as if he could -have jumped down and attacked him with his fists. But there came instead -a new diversion. Across the steps there swept the shadow of the Head. -Then he stood magisterially before them, and finally he singled out -Coles. - -“What is the delay?” said he. “What are you waiting for?” - -Before Coles could answer Saville had stepped forward. - -“The match is scratched, sir,” said he. “I am just going out to -apologise to Rouse for keeping them waiting so long.” - -He ran up the steps and went out into the open. The Head turned and -stared after him indignantly. His own intended words had been taken out -of his mouth. He had meant only to ascertain without doubt that this -scene was on account of his son before himself stepping in and -forbidding play. He had been forestalled. Saville was trotting towards -the touch-line. The ranks of expectant onlookers opened and let him -through. The Head saw Rouse come to meet him, saw him lift his hand and -rest it upon Saville’s shoulder, watched them as they spoke. Then Rouse -had turned to those nearest to him and explained. The air became very -still. Saville had been so clearly the forerunner of sensation. Heads -were turned towards the unhappy Roe still standing in splendid isolation -on the gravel path, then back to Saville. Finally all eyes settled upon -Rouse. He was collecting his team regretfully and there was something in -his manner that showed how sorry he was that this had happened. Then -Morley’s were walking off the field. - -All this the Head watched with set eyes, and at last he turned again to -that sullen group at the bottom of the steps, regarded them for a -moment, then snapped out his dictum: - -“Find Mr Nicholson for me, one of you. Tell him that I wish to speak to -him in my study at once.” - -And all the while Coles stood beside the Headmaster, staring dully into -the distance. For this was the first round and he had lost. - -It was Betteridge who found Toby and told him, and with just a nod of -the head Harley’s games master went sorrowfully along the pathway toward -the Head’s room and disappeared through the old oak door, whilst the -crowd who had been expecting a dashing game of Rugby football turned -almost disconsolately to watch him go. The next five minutes were full -of the calm that precedes the outburst of a storm. No one so much as -kicked a football into the air. They could only wait now for the worst, -knowing that somehow or other the Head was going to hit back. - -Those dull five minutes were barely passed before Toby came into sight -again, walking just as solemnly as before. Saville was moving his way -and Toby stopped him. His voice was very tense. - -“The Head has just told me that after to-day he forbids house -friendlies, or any football of any kind, until the captain he selected -is recognised by the school. The fellows have chosen a hunger strike and -so he intends that it shall be a proper one. He’s hit back with your own -weapon.” He paused and looked at Saville earnestly. “It’s going to be a -lean year in earnest now. And I only wish I could see where it’s going -to end.” - - - - - CHAPTER XV - THE SAFETY VALVE - - -There is splendour in storm and flood and tempest, and no man regrets -that now and again in life thunder and lightning spoil some chosen -holiday. But those long grey days that come in stretches and blot the -calendar for weeks on end with the dreary misery of heartless and -unbroken skies are only mean and uninspiring, and they have no single -use. They are discontented days and they bring with them discontent. - -The first thunder-burst of a revolution had come to Harley as a vast -excitement, and those who had no real part to play in it had stood at -their windows watching the threatening majesty of its power unfold. But -days had passed, and with them had departed much of a schoolboy’s first -intense delight in bold rebellion, so that when the time of cheering and -singing had gone, and only grey days empty and wearisome remained, a -sulky discontent slowly wrapped Harley in its mantle. All days were grey -days. There had been no school Rugger and each week was devoid of -interest. Saturdays were not holidays but hollow days. The only interest -that had helped to keep Harleyans awake out of school hours had been -house friendlies. Now these had gone from their ken. The Head had hit -straight and hard. - -Directly Coles heard the news he smiled again, for he knew that this -blow would provide a first step towards the school’s collapse. For a -minute their pride would steady them. Members of the Fifteen who were -suffering most would set the example, but by degrees fellows would be -found in favour of giving in. The call of Rugger in their blood would be -too strong. He and his friends would move quietly amongst these wobblers -and encourage them in their notions. In this way a reactionary party -would begin to grow, snowball fashion, each newcomer persuading some -crony of his own to think with him. Then would come Coles’ chance. -Fellows would look round for a leader, some bright spirit who could show -them a way out of their dilemma that would be in keeping with their -dignity. That bright spark would be forthcoming without delay. Coles -would be the man of the hour. He was the best drop-kick in the school. -He was an old colour. He would be their philosopher. - -“Let the Head have his way to this extent,” he would say. “Let Roe be -the official captain. It will be too late to print cards with his name -on this season, and many outside the school will never know. And I will -be secretary. I will guide his hand. I will choose the teams. I will -award the colours. We will end the term gloriously. The Head will think -he has won, and he will be affable and amenable to reason, but in -reality we shall be laughing up our sleeves, for the captain of footer -will have to do just what his secretary tells him.” - -Coles was very cautious. He did not allow the fact that time for these -plans to mature was short to interfere with him. It was not yet -half-term and he knew that the school’s collapse once started would come -suddenly. When it came he would be ready. But he must not arouse -suspicion by attempting to hurry things on their way. He watched from -afar, and he kept Roe quiet. Only his friends were subtly busying -themselves with intrigue. And whilst Coles watched and waited, that -terrible listlessness that is the forerunner of a dry-rot was spreading -over Harley. Only Morley’s kept up their heads. In Mainwright’s Smythe -tried to lead his men in the proud path, but it was too much for one -man. Presently, to stand about at corners and kick one’s heels became a -habit. Boredom became a plague and the infection spread. - -Carr felt it more, perhaps, than any other boy in Seymour’s because he -was constantly in Coles’ society and was borne down by the shadow of it. -Football would have been his one great relaxation. Rugger would have -helped him to throw off the yoke. It would have brought him more into -touch with fellows like Rouse and Terence Nicholson, whose very presence -filled a room with optimism. - -Henry Hope did not desert him, but he clearly considered him a -perplexing and unsatisfactory young man, and he seemed to regret his -silence over the thing that mattered most; nevertheless, he persevered -daily. The fact that he had at least some kind of hold over Coles, if he -could only get the opportunity to use it, was, moreover, a considerable -comfort to him. - -These grey days had their effect too upon Saville, and on one of them he -wandered wretchedly into Rouse’s study and stood like a man with a hump -on his back before the trio whom he found there. - -“Don’t stand there with that weight on your shoulders,” said Rouse. -“Take it off and put it down in a corner.” - -Saville straightened his back bravely. - -“It’s the hump,” said he. “It’s enough to give anyone the hump. Things -are rotten bad.” - -He paused as if to let this information sink in. The others did not deny -it. - -Saville sighed. “It’s not so bad for me, or chaps like me. What is so -frightful is having to stand by and watch this dry-rot setting in -amongst all the middle school chaps. It’s like watching a lot of -strikers being starved into submission.” - -Rouse glanced at him significantly. - -“You think they’ll give in?” - -The other hesitated. “No. At the moment I can’t think of any particular -fellow who’s specially likely to give in, and of course it’s no use just -one or two giving in, anyway. But you see what I mean. At this very -moment we’re losing. We asked for this fight and it’s going against us. -We’re getting more than we’re giving. And that weighs on the chaps’ -minds. They’re just crazy to hit back. It was different before. House -friendlies were a sort of safety valve. Fellows who were longing for a -school match could at least put their hearts and souls into a house -game. You saw how they turned out in the hope of seeing Seymour’s play -Morley’s. It was pretty nearly pathetic. And in a sense I feel that mine -is the responsibility. It was because Betteridge and I wouldn’t play -under that yahoo’s captaincy that house Rugger was stopped. And I can -tell you I’m precious sorry about it all. We’re being absolutely sat on, -and the chaps can see it. Isn’t there any way at all of getting a bit of -our own back? Isn’t there anything we can do?” - -Rouse made no answer. He had been listening to Saville attentively, and -once he had nodded his head in total agreement. Otherwise he had made no -move. Now he turned to the two young men who were sitting with him, one -upon the table and one upon the window-sill, and looked at them -inquiringly. Saville was at a loss. He stared first at Smythe and then -at Terence Nicholson, and finally at Rouse. On the face of each he -perceived the same significant expression. - -“You may think I’m mad,” said he resentfully, “but it’s perfectly true -all the same.” - -“I know it is, old horse,” said Rouse. - -“Then, dash it all,” repeated Saville, “isn’t there anything we can do?” - -Still Rouse made no move. He just looked at Saville steadily. - -“There is,” said he. “And Smythe has done it. Take a seat!” - -“Where?” demanded Saville, looking mournfully round the study. - -“Sit on that box. There’s something we want you to know. The safety -valve of which you spoke has, as you say, gone bust. Let there be no -panic. Smythe has another up his sleeve. As soon as there are sufficient -pennies in the hat he will produce it.” He paused. “We told Smythe to -scratch our fixtures for the season. He obeyed except in one respect. He -did not scratch the Rainhurst match.” - -The effect of these words was remarkable. - -Saville rose from his box in the stiff, unnatural manner of a man under -the influence of hypnotism. Then he lifted his hand and pointed at -Smythe with an extended forefinger: - -“You didn’t?” - -“No.” - -Saville sat back, and for a little while he leaned against the wall with -a distant smile, seeming to be recalling some memory of the long ago. At -last his lips parted and he spoke in a half whisper: - -“The Rainhurst match!” - -He leaned forward. The other three were looking at him in appreciation. - -Smythe began to explain. “I looked ahead and I saw what things would be -like if the worst came true. My idea was that if, in the end, it had to -be done, we could scratch that match last of all, but I decided to hang -on to the fixture. I said nothing to anyone until a fortnight or so ago, -when the Rainhurst secretary wrote and said that he’d heard we’d been -scratching a lot of matches, and did our fixture with them still stand. -Then I consulted Nicholson. And he wanted to ask Rouse. So we all three -discussed it and I wrote back.” - -“And what did you say?” - -“I said,” admitted Smythe, “that we should be there.” - -The silence was acute. At last Rouse broke it. - -“We realised what you are realising now, old sportsman—the danger of a -rot and the value of a safety valve. You ask what we can do to hit back. -Well, we voluntarily scratched our fixture list. The Head has gone one -better and forbidden house games. We shall go one better still. Our -defiant answer will be the playing of the match of the season. The -Rainhurst match will come off.” - -“How can we do it?” - -“It’s not very difficult,” said Terence. “Rainhurst is within cycling -distance. There is also quite a good service of trains. On the afternoon -of the second Saturday in the second half of term the First Fifteen will -simply go to Rainhurst by various secret ways and meet there. The -Rainhurst team will be on the field and the game will be played. Then we -shall all find separate ways home. The Head will probably never know. -Who’s going to miss us?” - -“But how about the Rainhurst Head? He’s bound to know what’s the matter -here. Won’t he smell a rat?” - -“Not,” said Smythe, “unless Roe is on the field, and then we should all -smell one. And we can do that without going to Rainhurst.” - -Saville considered the matter from every side. At last he looked up -again. - -“What I mean is, he must know that we’ve scratched all our matches. -Won’t he wonder a bit? Supposing he writes to the Head and mentions it?” - -“Why should he? When their secretary wrote to me the other week he just -said he’d heard that we’d scratched some of our matches. Was the -Rainhurst match to stand good? He didn’t say anything about the Head -asking.” - -So at last Saville emitted a hoarse chuckle of delight: “Glory be! What -a terrific rag! But it can be improved on. Why not form up in a body -outside the school and march there?” - -“So soon as there’s any procession,” put in Rouse, “I always cease to -take any interest in things. Nothing causes me more suffering than to be -called upon to process.” - -“Besides,” said Terence, “that would only be asking for trouble. Someone -would be expelled.” - -“Also it is too far,” observed Smythe. “The idea is to get there in a -fit state to play football. We don’t want to reach Rainhurst on our -hands and knees.” - -“It had never occurred to me that this was going to be possible,” said -Saville. “In my wildest dreams I never imagined anything like this. Have -you chaps been keeping this to yourselves all this time?” - -“A short while ago,” said Rouse, “I was beginning to brood, and so they -told me. Now it’s you who are beginning to brood, so we’ve told you. -We’ve been keeping it as a kind of tonic for those who get downhearted. -The fewer people who know, the safer the secret.” - -“Only,” said Terence, “it’s getting near the time now when we ought to -tell some of the chaps. There ought not to be any harm now in letting -the news filter through to some of the young ’uns. If they’re getting -restless it’s just the kind of thing to steady them and keep them -solid.” - -“It’ll be our saving,” said Saville. “If this gets known, the Head’s -idea of wearing them down hasn’t got an earthly.” - -Smythe leaned forward. - -“There is one other point. We’ve got to consider what the Head will do -if he finds out, and I think we can take it he will. The best part of -the school will go to Rainhurst to see the match and that will give the -show away.... Then what will he do? Whom will he drop on?” - -“Me,” said Rouse, in a meek voice. - -“Precisely. It _will_ be you, and we’ve got to guard against that. We -must stand together. If he blames you, every man jack must step forward -and take his share of the blame. I shall say that the idea was mine. -Terence will declare that he made the plans, so on and thusly. We shall -all agree that the only part you took in the affair was to captain the -side. And if he tries to expel you——” - -“We’ll cut his throat,” said Saville. - -Then he rose to his feet and stretched himself. - -“I feel a different man. I should very much like to burst into song. -Tell me, is there any objection to my repeating this to anyone -else?—Betteridge, for example? I should absolutely love to. There’s a -touch of the dramatic about it, and I should just enjoy laying myself -out to break this news to him in my best style. He’s decidedly broody -too, if that’s the chief qualification for admission to the secret -circle.” - -“Yes, I don’t see why you shouldn’t tell Betteridge,” said Rouse, and -hesitated. “But I shouldn’t tell anyone else in Seymour’s just for the -moment.” He looked at Saville shrewdly, and Saville caught his meaning -and nodded his head. Then Rouse rose and stood dreamily with one hand -extended as if to indicate the beauty of the distant landscape. - -“I seem to see a certain Saturday afternoon. There will be an unwonted -calm about the old school. The Head—God bless him!—will be sleeping by -the fire. His carpet slippers will be dangling from his toes. His -waistcoat will be comfortably loosened.... Suddenly he will wake with a -start and he will be struck by the eerie stillness everywhere about him. -He will rise and look out of the window. At first he will see nothing. -He will climb to a window on the top floor, and then with a kind of -telescopic eye he will see everything at once. He will look along every -road that leads towards Rainhurst and he will see several small clouds -of dust. Dimly he will make out the figures of all kinds and conditions -of Harley fellows footing it along at a good pace, some even riding -bicycles or getting lifts in carts. He will see the railway station -crowded with the chaps who can afford to buy railway tickets. He will -see trains on the move with our chaps leaning out and waving coloured -handkerchiefs at him. It will be like a Derby day. At last he will send -for the bursar. ‘Look here,’ he will say, ‘What is all that commotion? -What’s on?’ The bursar will look at him wisely. ‘Didn’t you know?’ he’ll -say. ‘There’s a very big match on to-day. The school are playing -Rainhurst.’ The only thing I regret,” he added, “is that by going to -Rainhurst to play I shall not be able to be present in the Head’s room -at that moment.” - -Saville jumped suddenly forward and flung out his hand. - -“Look!... Betteridge! He’s walking by the window. I must go and——” - -He never finished. He just made a delighted gesture of farewell, and was -gone. - -At last Rouse turned again to his companions. - -“The safety valve is open,” said he. “By to-morrow the welcome whisper -should be passing from lip to lip.” - - * * * * * - -A careful onlooker casting back his mind in after years to the ten days -that intervened between the greatest depth of the school’s dejection and -its complete recovery has said that the countenance of the average -Harleyan of that day was to him the face of a good barometer showing a -steady rise from storm to set-fair by regular upward moves from day to -day. - -From the moment when Rouse, by breaking the news to Saville, had, as it -were, thrown that message like a pebble into the pool of Harley’s -dejection, the rippling circles of water that showed just where it had -sunk spread with almost mathematical precision until the outermost -circle had reached the outermost boys in the school. The countenance of -the school was, therefore, more than a barometer. It was a graph, -showing exactly how far the whisper reached each day. - -The manner in which the quickly passing word somehow avoided masters was -enigmatical. It may be that some few of them knew without seeming to -know. If so, there was not one enemy amongst them. For all the groups of -boys that the Head might have seen any day standing about school deep in -some earnest discussion, their eyes newly bright, all symptoms of their -depression vanished, he never guessed the truth, so that each little -band of friends were able to make their own arrangements for the journey -to Rainhurst on that great day that was surely coming without one single -obstructing order from the Head. - -Directly the school had reassembled after half-term Rouse sent for Henry -Hope. - -“Henry,” said he to Terence, “can always indicate to a man the temper of -the school in a few well-chosen words. Henry knows everybody. In short, -what Henry thinks to-day Harley will think to-morrow.” - -Henry appeared before him without delay, and was interrogated. - -“As far as I know,” said he, “there’s nobody now who hasn’t heard.” - -“Has there been upraised,” demanded Rouse, “one single dissentient -voice?” - -“There has not,” responded Henry; “except in places where it doesn’t -matter.” - -Rouse nodded his head thoughtfully. - -“As far as you know, after moving about amongst all classes, you can -safely say that the plan has the whole-hearted support of the school? -Anyone who split now would most likely be lynched?” - -“Why, sure,” said Henry. - -“There is one other point. Do you think that amongst the rank and file -who had been hit hardest by the great staleness of life up to half-term -there is a general convalescence? Has the fever passed? In other words, -are those sad eyes of which you spoke to me a while back now shining -with the light of a great enthusiasm?” - -“Everybody seems frightfully bucked.” - -Rouse nodded once again, and this time with an air of finality. - -“Thank you very much for the very thorough manner in which you have -carried out your investigations, Detective Hope,” said he. “You have -been of the utmost service to Harley. It is only by keeping one’s finger -continuously upon the pulse of the school that one can really hope to -save them from their melancholia.” He turned. “That being so, Nick,” he -observed, “we will go visit Smythe and he can commence operations -forthwith.” - -It was late that evening that Smythe, on his round of selected studies, -reached the little room that Coles called his own. Coles did not seem -surprised to see him. He rose hospitably and produced a chair from a -dark corner, turned to the fire and poked at it lustily. - -Smythe, however, proceeded to the business of the day without -hesitation. - -“You’ve heard about the scheme that I’ve come about already, of course. -All I’m doing now is interviewing the team that Rouse has picked. It’s a -novel way of acting secretary. I’ll just show you this.” - -He produced from his pocket a piece of paper. It bore the names of -fifteen Harleyans, who had been selected to play in the great match of -the year, and the name of Coles was included. Smythe drew his attention -to the fact. - -“I just want to know,” said he, “that you’re quite willing to turn out, -and I want your word of honour that in the event of there being a big -row about this when it’s found out you’ll stand with the team and take a -fair share of any blame that may be going. I ask this because the -probability is that the Head may try to drop on Rouse and make him the -scapegoat. I also want your word of honour that you will say nothing and -do nothing that could lead to this secret being discovered by the Head -or any beak at all.” - -Coles looked at him oddly. - -“You want my word of honour? Why mine?” - -“We’re asking for everybody’s,” said Smythe coldly. “You needn’t be -alarmed.” - -“But why? What makes that necessary? Who do you suppose might give it -away?” - -“We’re asking this of each fellow who’s going to play, purely to avoid -giving offence to any one man. The temper of the school at present -doesn’t permit of taking risks. That’s all. Do you mind giving what we -ask?” - -“No,” said Coles at last. “Why should I? What’s all the suspicion -about?” He paused, glancing at Smythe resentfully. “What is it you want -me to promise?” - -Smythe repeated it. - -He jerked his head. - -“All right. I’ll give my word.” - -Smythe solemnly put a little tick against his name on the list, stayed a -few moments talking over arrangements, and finally took his departure. - -In the corridor outside he came upon two boys. One he identified without -difficulty as Henry Hope, but as he passed Henry drew his companion into -the shadow of the wall behind him. For Henry had just made a regrettable -discovery. He had reported that nobody of importance existed in Harley -who was not delighted at the prospect of the Rainhurst match, and he had -overlooked one case, a case that had only just come properly to his -notice. There was a young man in Harley who showed no pleasure at the -arrangements made, who seemed, on the contrary, smitten with some -foreboding. The young man would give no explanation. He would offer no -definite opinion. It was merely a case in which the symptoms of -depression had increased rather than decreased, and were it not for one -outstanding fact the matter might have been exceptional, and therefore -of no real importance. But Henry could not lose sight of that one fact. -The young man concerned was Coles’ fag. Henry would have to watch out. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - YESTERDAY’S CAPTAIN - - -The men of Rainhurst were undisguisedly perplexed. For the last two -hours Harley fellows had been arriving at the school, not openly, but in -mysterious driblets, looking about them as if in fear of being spotted -and yet decidedly proud to be on view. Moreover, as each party had -arrived they had been greeted by their predecessors with cordial -hand-shakings as if by way of congratulation on their safe arrival. - -Now they were all gathered together in one great concourse just inside -the entrance to the school, whilst one amongst them, a strangely thin -boy with tremendous spectacles, stood out from the crowd and from a -position of vantage in the roadway was peering into the distance. -Whenever one of the Harley Fifteen appeared in sight this boy turned to -the waiting throng, lifted his hand in dignity above his head as if for -silence, and in a loud clear voice announced the gentleman’s name, -whereupon there followed a momentary silence until the player himself -appeared at the gate, when he was greeted with tumultuous applause. - -It was all exceedingly odd. - -The First Fifteen were coming, too, not in the appointed brake from the -station but just as the boys themselves had come, clandestinely and by -various routes, some by train, and others by cycle or by trap. The -captain of Rainhurst, who was watching it all with a frankly curious -stare, had never seen the like. - -As time passed, however, it became evident that there was still some -further treat in store for those who were waiting at the gates. There -was that in their watchful attitude that one may see in the vast crowd -at any state procession that cheers its favourites as they pass, yet -waits in tense expectancy, keeping its greatest outburst for the great -one whom they have really come to see. - -There became noticeable, too, an increased alertness in the manner of -the boy who was making the announcements. He peered more frequently and -rather more impatiently up and down the road. Sometimes he left his -position to secure a better view from the other side of the way. - -Clearly the arrival of someone of real importance to them was expected -at any moment. - -It came at last. The looker-out, who, though wholly self-appointed, -seemed to be treated with a tolerant courtesy and some respect by his -fellows, darted suddenly towards them and threw up his arm stiffly erect -above his head, pointing the way to heaven. - -The silence was immediate. - -“They’re coming,” said he. “Look out, it’s Rouse!” - -In the respectful hush that had fallen upon the crowd there could be -heard distinctly a noise like the beating of a drum. Boys turned, one to -the other, in surprise. There was a minute’s keen expectancy. At last -solution came. Rouse hove into view, not as one might have expected a -popular hero to have appeared, nobly upon the shoulders of his comrades, -but hunched upon a bicycle, and the noise accompanying him was not the -beating of a drum: it was the bumping of a punctured back tyre on the -roadway. His long legs were driving the pedals with laborious care, and -between the strokes his knees were rising under his armpits. He was -flushed with exertion and suffering from acute self-consciousness, and -in this manner he turned in at the gate and came unsteadily along the -gravel path. - -Now when Rouse had said that so soon as he was invited to process he -lost all interest in events he had spoken truly. He was never more -hopelessly uncomfortable than when he was the centre of admiration or -the object of prolonged applause, and during the present term he had had -more of this than he could manage. When he had first come into sight his -mind had, moreover, been so concentrated upon the importance of making -the turn at the gate without colliding with the wall that he did not -properly understand what all the cheering was about. He found out quite -suddenly, and in that moment, looking along the deep ranks of his -applauding followers and realising suddenly that it was all for him and -that he was once again the unwilling hero of the hour, he lost his nerve -entirely, slowed to a snail’s pace and suddenly fell off. - -He stood up, not knowing where to look or what to do to stop their -cheering. Smythe came to his side and Rouse turned to him gratefully. - -“I say, do tell them to shut up, will you?” - -He was sorry to notice that Smythe brushed the point aside. - -“Where on earth have you been?” he was demanding. “I thought you were -coming by trap?” - -Rouse considered the point absent-mindedly. - -“I thought so once, too. It seems a long time ago. I can hardly remember -the time when I wasn’t sitting on that bike.” - -“What happened?” - -“I don’t know. That has yet to be discovered. But when twenty minutes -had gone by and there was still no trap we decided we’d got to do -something about it. Every bicycle for hire in Harley had been booked up -a week ago, so there was nothing for it but to try our luck at cottages, -and at one I managed to borrow this.” He paused and took a deep breath. -“Until the old man of the house had lifted me into the saddle and given -me a lusty shove off down the hill I wasn’t at all sure that I could -ride a bicycle, but once the thing was fairly under way I didn’t dare to -fall off for fear I should never be able to get on again, so I just kept -on pushing the pedals round, and until I got inside these gates I -thought of nothing else but sticking on. It was all that cheering upset -me.” - -“Something upset you I could plainly see,” said Smythe. “I thought you’d -ridden over a brick.” - -Rouse turned with a haughty gesture and cast a contemplative eye upon -the bicycle. - -“It’s been making that bumping noise ever since I started. I don’t know -whether there’s anything the matter with it.” - -“It’s punctured,” said Smythe instructively. - -“Is it? Quite likely. I’m no real judge of a bicycle, but I should think -it’s got everything the matter with it that it could have, including -mumps on the front tyre. Nick couldn’t borrow one at all, so he stopped -a kid who passed us on the road and they’ve been taking turn and turn -about ever since, one of them riding and the other balancing on one foot -on the step. I’ve seen worse trick cyclists at a music hall. They’re -both walking up the hill at present. The kid offered to walk all the way -and let Nick come on, but Nick said: ‘No fear. We’ve both got to be at -this match and they’ll wait for me, but they won’t wait for you.’” - -He smiled reminiscently, then turned sharply on his heel. The cheering -had broken out anew. A small boy eaten up with pride was wearily riding -a bicycle into the school grounds, and as they watched, a tall -fair-haired young man dropped off the step and began to walk somewhat -stiffly through the crowd. - -“That’s Nick,” said Smythe. “We’re all here now.” - -Next moment another young man was at his elbow. A voice had interrupted -them apologetically. They turned and saw that it was the Rainhurst -captain, and with a slow whimsical smile Rouse held out his hand. - -“I say, is this true? One of your chaps has just been telling me. Do you -mean to say you’ve come here absolutely on your own? Has your footer -been stopped? Don’t they know anything at all about it at the school?” - -Rouse began to explain. Half-way through the other stopped him. - -“Well, all I can say is that if you fellows have gone to all this sweat -just to save this match being scratched then you deserve to win it—and,” -he added thoughtfully, “I’m only sorry you won’t.” - -Rouse laid a hand upon his arm. - -“I wonder if you could show me where I could get a rub down? I don’t -know whether you’ve ever ridden from Harley on a punctured bike, but I -have—and only just.” - -As he followed the other away down the gravel path he looked round at -the record crowd that, the cheering over, was now lining up along the -touch-lines. His eyes passed thoughtfully over those members of the home -side who were already taking casual place kicks on the field, and then -came back and settled in turn upon certain of his own team who were -coming slowly towards him from the changing-room. And in those few -moments a strange solemnity obsessed him. He found himself remembering -all that this lean year had meant to Harley. This was their first school -match, and it would be their only one. The season would stand alone in -history, and it was all on his account. He wondered whatever they could -see in him, or what sympathy he had aroused in them that could warrant -such devotion to one man. He was suddenly conscious of the weight of -responsibility that was his. He, who had meant the season to be so -famous in the annals of the school, had been the sole cause of the -miserable fiasco that it had become. And it seemed to him that if only -the school side could play such a game to-day as would be worth the -fellows having come to see, it might make some amends. As a team nothing -out of the way could be expected of them. They were only a scratch -Fifteen, and they had not yet had one single practice game together. No -one could foretell their capability. But he was their captain, and it -was possible that by setting the example he might get each man on the -side to play the game of his life. In the eyes of the Head he was -yesterday’s captain, and Christopher Woolf Roe was to-day’s. - -Well, when the story of this one match came to be written it should, if -he could by one day’s captaincy ordain it, stand out as the greatest in -the school’s long history. That would be some slight consolation to all -those who had missed the game that was so near their hearts throughout -this miserable term. - -He changed and came out into the open and found his team, and all the -while he could not find a word to say to anyone. Yet as they stood -waiting silently for him to lead them out, he turned to them with a -sudden spontaneity. - -“Look here, the fellows have come no end of a distance and some of them -may not get back before roll-call, but it’s in our power to give them a -game that’ll keep them talking till the end of the year and make them -proud to have been at school this term instead of half ashamed. I want -you to do it. This is the only chance we shall have. Let’s make this -match worth having played in.” - -He stopped abruptly. It suddenly occurred to him that he was talking -heroics for perhaps the first time in his life. And so with a sudden -awkward smile he turned and led the way out. No one spoke; but as they -followed him out into the open the spirit that had prompted Rouse was -stirring in every breast. - -The moments passed. The teams were lining up. The whistle blew. Rouse -stood in readiness behind his team, casting an affectionate eye over -each member of it as he moved to his appointed place. Then at last, to -the tune of the most whole-hearted shout of “Harley” that Rouse had ever -heard, the Rainhurst captain lifted the ball gently over the heads of -Harley’s forwards and the school half had misfielded. There was a rush -of hurrying forwards towards the mark and the Rainhurst pack were down -and shoving. Now the handicap of a lean year was transparent. The school -men were slow in getting down. Before they were properly packed the ball -had been in and out, and the Rainhurst threes were slinging it away to -the wing, where a youngster with the pace of a stag was coming down the -touch-line to take his pass. There flew across Rouse’s view sudden -patches of the Harley colours; the school backs racing across and -bringing down man after man; but the ball had travelled too fast for -them to reach and the Rainhurst wing took it safely, ran in and kicked -high and faithfully across. Rouse watched with set eyes as in mid-air -the wind caught the ball and carried it swerving out of its course; -then, as it began to fall, he saw his chance, darted along the goal-line -and cut in under it. He had one hurried vision of a man in the Rainhurst -grey and green flying towards him and gazing upward. He took no notice. -He just fetched out a sudden burst of resolute speed, took the ball from -the other’s reach in his stride, bowled him over and left him on the -grass. Then he kicked. The ball sailed up-field like a bird and, far -over the distant touch-line by the Rainhurst twenty-five, fell neatly -out of play. - -He had gained the school relief, but now he grew gravely anxious for the -future. He did not like the way those Rainhurst threes had come away to -threaten his line so early. It was ominous. He contracted his mouth -severely as he saw the ball thrown out of touch and the forwards -scrambling round it for possession. Once his own men had it, but the -pack were not properly together and it was lost. Then the game opened up -and the Rainhurst backs got on the move again. Somebody dropped a pass. -There came another scrum. Rouse saw that Rainhurst had it once more and -were heeling like clockwork. The Harley forwards were being beaten every -time. From his own position on the field he could watch all this as if -from the pit stalls of a theatre, and it kept him on tenterhooks. Once -he was moving up happily behind his team, driving them on with mighty -punts up-field whenever the ball came within his reach, when, quite -suddenly, there flashed into the picture the Rainhurst backs racing -across the field, wheeling and coming down upon him with the ball, and -the whole phase of the game was changed. He drew back. He saw the Harley -men move up against the coming line, watching with beating heart to see -if they could shatter it. But the combination of this team in the attack -was paramount. Every Harley back had made his tackle, and the ball was -still in the hands of a man in grey and green. There were others running -beside him. Where they had come from he had no time to guess. But so -soon as a Rainhurst man was down another seemed to have darted into his -place. He waited cautiously. He was the last line of defence. If he made -but one mistake now Rainhurst were through. He must choose the -psychological moment and he must pick the right man. There was not one -second to spare. Everything in his wide field of view faded away, and -the only thing that he could see was the fast magnifying picture of a -line of figures in grey and green on top of him. The moment had come. He -picked his man, and as he moved to take the ball, Rouse hurtled across -his front, swung round his legs, and, breathless with the thud of -collision, hung on. The ball flew wide, but he was too late to reach it; -a gigantic boot whizzed past his face and carried it on towards the -Harley line. The Rainhurst forwards pattered past him. The game had gone -by and he was out of it, but he had given his own side time and the -Harley men were back and defending stoutly. - -After that it was give and take, and the game would not shift out of the -Harley twenty-five. One high punt carried the ball out of the ruck, and -Smythe came in from the wing and gathered it neatly. There was a quick -expectant hush whilst he started away, and Terence was up alongside with -safe hands ready for his pass. The ball jumped into his arms and he had -it safely and was cutting with lowered head into the bunch of forwards -who were hovering round him. A new shout of hope went up from the Harley -side of the ground, but it was premature. The last to be seen of Terence -was the vision of his body being dragged to earth by three men in grey -and green, whilst the ball worked out into the open. Without delay those -dangerous Rainhurst forwards, perfectly together, were round it in a -herd. They were coming down-field with it at their toes as if it were -merely a practice dribble. The sight of Coles darting into the picture, -and flinging himself upon it, relieved anxiety for a moment, but he was -somehow bundled out of the way and the pack came on. Rouse got ready -again. The fellows on the touch-line saw him crouching for his spring -and knew that he would never let them through. But in the tenseness of -the moment their voices grew hushed and they could only wait. A sudden -diversion saved the day. One hulking forward in the front rank of the -Rainhurst pack had kicked the ball too hard and it had bounced out of -reach. In a flash their chance had gone. Smythe came across their front -at a sprint, gathered the ball with extended hands and carried it clear. - -Again the shouting started. Smythe had it safely and his wing was clear -for twenty yards. He bent to his task and ran. One of the Rainhurst -halfbacks was pounding behind him, but had not the pace to make the -tackle. Smythe shook him off and looked for his own three-quarters. They -had shaped out into position and were well in motion. Then the Rainhurst -wing, whose duty was to mark Smythe, came in with a rush and he passed -the ball; but as he spun sideways and was dragged down on to his back he -had the horrifying vision vouchsafed him of another man in grey and -green speeding away with that same ball on his chest, whilst Terence was -pounding after him and reaching desperately for his jersey. There was -one tense moment of doubt and fear, then the sprinting man had swerved -past Lister and had only Rouse to beat. Just as before, Rouse came into -the picture with a dashing enthusiasm and took his man at a gallop. The -Rainhurst runner had no chance. In two seconds it was all over and Rouse -was scrambling to his feet, whilst the school forwards, a badly bustled -pack, came round and struggled for the ball. It came out and somebody -fell on it, so that there followed another scrum. Again it worked loose -on the Rainhurst side, but Coles smothered the lucky half before he -could get it away, and not an inch was gained. At last Saville, seeing -the ball bouncing before his eyes, grabbed at it and punted for touch. -But the Rainhurst blood was up and they meant to score. The game had -settled upon the Harley twenty-five and nothing could move it on. -Rainhurst were too good. Every scrum went in their favour. They could do -everything but cross the line. Time and again their threes seemed safely -away and would have scored, had not there shone from out the Harley -Fifteen a wondrous individuality of play that held them. There was -always one who darted in at the critical moment and scooped the ball -into his keeping or downed the man who had it. His instinct of defence -was magical. He seemed ubiquitous and impregnable, and through Harley’s -rough time he held together a team that were weary of tackling by an -outstanding energy that made him a standard-bearer to his side. - -Wherever he could be seen at grips with the attacking host the Harley -men rallied around him. He grew discoloured with mud and the bruises of -continuous collision and became unlike himself, but so long as they -could identify his shape the vast crowd never ceased to shout his name. - -And so when half time came and play stopped suddenly there was set upon -the field a tableau. - -Yesterday’s captain stood unconquered upon his line, with his scratch -team gathered round him, and the Rainhurst men were held. - -There came a gracious interval, and on to the field moved streams of -enthusing Harleyans who clapped upon the back each member of the team -that they could reach, whilst Rouse moved this way and that amongst his -men, whispering words of counsel for the even greater battle that was to -come. - -“You were fine,” he said to each in turn, “but we haven’t scored yet.” - -They nodded grimly, making their own resolve in secret, and so when the -whistle blew again, and the ball was once more lifted into the air, it -was Harley who started the attack. - -The forwards, as if in an effort to make up for their clear defeat in -the scrum, gathered the ball amongst them and took it away up-field with -an all-devouring dash. For a little while the Rainhurst men were -staggered. Harley made way by grim degrees towards their goal. Close up, -Betteridge, who was long in the arm, contrived to reach the ball and -toss it back over his head to the neighbourhood where the three-quarters -were waiting eagerly. Terence jumped sideways and took it as it bounced; -but a stalwart figure in grey and green was upon him before he could -make away, and the chance was gone. Yet Harley would not be denied. The -great shouting from their fellows on the touch-line kept them at it. -Again and again the ball was taken forward at a pell-mell rush, only to -be suddenly gathered and punted back by Rainhurst. - -And at these times it was Rouse who nipped in and fielded it as it fell, -so that great punts into touch, far up, kept the school at the right -end. - -The suddenness with which Rainhurst turned their defence into attack -proved the greatness of their side. For a full ten minutes they had been -hard pressed, and no one knew how it was that their stand-off half found -that wonderful opening. Yet in some way he had caught the Harley men all -on one side of the ground. A high punt carried the ball towards him and -he took it on the run, and kicked down the field. It dropped midway -between Rouse and himself, and he had just that extra turn of speed that -enabled him to get to it first. He held it for a bare moment whilst he -swerved, then he had kicked again, high over Rouse’s head, and was -following up as before. The luck was all his. The try depended on the -bounce of the ball, and it bounced straight into his hands. Afterwards -it was only a question of pace; he had that pace and he scored far out. - -Slowly and solemnly Harley lined up under the posts. They heard the -frenzied cheering of the Rainhurst boys and bore it patiently. But Rouse -said never a word, and only those who took a covert glance at him knew -what must be passing in his mind. - -The place kick went wide, and so the game restarted. And now the -shouting for Harley, hoarse with strain, seemed, nevertheless, redoubled -into a roar of pleading. Just once Rouse looked towards them. Then he -turned back to the game and was pacing slowly across the field, staring -with set eyes at the scramble for the ball as it came out from touch. -Time passed. Fellows on the line began to glance nervously at their -watches, but he seemed to take no count of it. He just moved always -behind his team, nursing each movement with consummate understanding and -calling to them gently by name when the play opened up. - -At last their opportunity came. - -Almost upon the Rainhurst twenty-five a free kick was awarded Harley. -The shouting died away. The crowded touch-line suddenly grew still. -Rouse moved forward. He looked round for Coles. Coles was the best -drop-kick in the school. It mattered not to Rouse that this might prove -the winning effort of the match, and that if so the certainty existed -that Coles would know how to turn it to good account. The school came -first. He called to Coles: - -“Try for goal.” - -Coles went to the mark, looked round him almost nervously, took careful -aim; the ball fell and he met it beautifully on the bounce with his toe. -It was a great kick, and at first it seemed to have scored. Yet just -beside the goal the breeze caught it and held it up. It dropped slowly -just on the wrong side of the posts. Coles turned away distressfully. He -took no notice of the cordial clapping. He had failed. Rainhurst took -heart again. Over and over again they broke away, only to be smothered -by the irresistible tackling of Rouse’s chosen backs. They had earned -one try and it was clear that it had been the most they could do. It was -not an effort that could be repeated. Harley could prevent it, but there -was something they could not do. They could not find the way through to -that other goal-line that would mean so much to them. At last this -seemed to be borne in upon them slowly and they began to tire. They were -losing and their hearts were failing them. Rouse could see it. He said -no word. Instead he grew more resolute in manner and more wonderful in -his own kicks, knowing that nothing can pull a tired team together like -example. Somehow or other they would have to score. He was their captain -and it was his task to whip them into a last desperate effort that would -carry someone over that line. If they could not win this match, then at -least they should not be beaten. He began to grow restless. Time was -passing quickly. He felt that great responsibility upon him again. He -had been chosen captain. If he could not somehow get one try out of this -side from Harley then he was not a worthy leader. They had to cross that -line. It was his task to make them. Only so could the greatness of this -match be capped. Only so could this day be marked for always in red -letters on the school’s official calendar. - -And then, suddenly enough, the ball worked loose and a Rainhurst man, -bearing down upon it, had gathered it into his arms and was away. Smythe -was out of position and he had a clear field. Coles sped diagonally -across the field and with a gallant effort almost reached him, but the -Rainhurst man had too great a pace and escaped by inches. As he ran he -looked urgently for his partner. Not only his own centre but the whole -of the Rainhurst line were with him. He glanced along it delightedly, -saw it moving with him at top speed, and then he looked ahead. There was -only one man to pass—a tired man, discoloured with the stain of battle. -One man against a line. He ran in a little, ready for a swerve, prepared -to pass. The one man watched him as he came with glassy eyes. The moment -came. Rouse moved to make his tackle. As he did so the Rainhurst man -flung the ball towards the centre, and in that moment he realised his -mistake. - -In those precious seconds that Rouse had had in which to make his quick -decision he had realised that, with a complete line running with him, -the man with the ball would not attempt to get through on his own. It -was an isolated case in which he would be justified in not tackling that -man. Once he, the last line of defence, was down and out of action, the -Rainhurst line were through and a try was a virtual certainty. - -He had bent to a dummy tackle, then straightening instantly he sprang -into the air and intercepted the pass. Next second he was away with it -on his chest. - -In that moment the little world around the field went wild. The whole of -the Rainhurst line had passed him and were looking back dazedly over -their shoulder. Before him the field of play opened out, and he saw that -the way was clear. Until he had summoned his utmost speed he looked -neither to right nor left, but when at last he was running as only a man -extended to the last degree can run he glanced around for aid, and it -was there. Terence was sprinting beside him like one possessed, and his -voice rang wildly across the open: - -“With you! With you!” - -It was enough. Rouse turned again to his front and called out one extra -yard of inhuman pace. He knew now that he was not alone. The day was -saved. A man in grey and green sprang across his path, and Rouse handed -him off and sent him staggering aside. Then he could see that, just as -when the Rainhurst line had come upon him, so now he had come upon his -rival back, and he saw him preparing for his tackle. - -He moved his hands and began to circle them ready to give his pass. - -Just beyond Terence he caught a quick glimpse of Smythe flying down the -touch-line in an effort to draw alongside. The deafening cheers of young -men leaning over the ropes and beating the air with caps were urging him -on. - -Then the moment had come. He swerved in slightly, made ready, and flung -the ball straight and true into Terence’s hands. - -A baby could not have dropped it. - -And as the Rainhurst man came at him and brought him down on his side, -he saw the flying figure of Terence darting over the line and grounding -the ball between the posts. - -At that moment he would have given his kingdom to have stayed where he -fell upon the grass, and to have lain in peace until the aching in his -weary limbs had passed. - -Yet he scrambled up. The air was thick with waving hats. He shouted to -Smythe, but in the din no one could hear his voice. - -So he signalled the order, and Smythe went slowly to the mark and took -the kick. In a deadly hush the ball rose into the air and dropped truly -and gracefully over the bar. - -In the turmoil that followed the referee’s no-side whistle was scarcely -heard. Rouse looked round hopelessly. There was no way out. Wave upon -wave of shouting Harley maniacs were bearing down on him from every -side. - -He was seized and shaken, found himself lifted up by the legs. He tried -to break free. It was utterly useless. So at last he looked at them -wearily in turn. - -And then he smiled. - -For this one day he had been their captain. Nothing mattered now. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - SALVE - - -Alone upon the wide deserted expanse of the playing fields at Harley -there stood, a picture of misery, the only fellow in the school who had -not dared to go to Rainhurst. There were, it is true, somewhere in the -school, other boys, but they had mostly remained behind under -compulsion. Some were in detention and some in the infirmary. A round -dozen or so were of a type who never did watch football even when it was -taking place under their noses, and they had played no part in that -clandestine excursion simply because it had had no attraction for them. -But there was only this one boy who had been afraid to go. - -It was Christopher Woolf Roe. He was by no means happy, and he was -obsessed with a melancholy interest as to what his father would have to -say when he knew what the school had done. He gazed out mournfully over -the forsaken football ground. No sound of any boyish voice reached his -ear. It might have been holiday time. So when a step sounded -unexpectedly behind him on the gravel path he turned in surprise. The -school porter was crossing from the neighbourhood of the Head’s room, -and something in his manner suggested that he was conveying a message. -Roe, starving for company, looked at him as a pig looks at some farm -hand carrying a pan of swill. - -“Do you want me?” he asked hopefully enough. - -The porter answered with dignity. As a man of discrimination he had been -on the school’s side throughout this strife, and he was not disposed to -make conversation with one whom he considered something of a traitor. - -“The Headmaster wishes to speak to you, sir,” said he, and withdrew. - -Without a word Roe moved away dejectedly towards the stained-glass -windows of his father’s room, and passed through the old oak door beside -the steps. He had not even the heart to whistle as he went. - -He knocked at the door and was greeted by ominous silence. He went in. -The Head was standing by the fireplace, leaning against the mantelpiece, -and by every line of his face Roe could see that he was going to address -him not as a father but as the Headmaster of a Public School. He moved -silently across the carpet. - -“Did you want me, sir?” said he respectfully. - -He placed one hand in the other and rubbed them gently together. - -The Head looked at him grimly. Half-an-hour ago he had stood at his -window looking out upon his kingdom. It had struck him quite suddenly -that the neighbourhood of the school was strangely quiet. He had leaned -out a little farther. He could still see nobody about. Finally he had -craned his neck to its limit and turned his head all ways. There was no -doubt about it. The school was deserted. He had never seen the place so -quiet on a Saturday. The seats under the trees were all unoccupied. No -sound came from the fives courts. No figure could be discerned on any -pathway. The only houses that he could see looked uninhabited. Sudden -perplexity had settled upon him. He had furrowed his brows.... Next he -had left his room and had gone into the school and along the corridors -to places from which he could see the playing fields from every angle. -He peered into the common rooms, inspected the library.... His -suspicions became a certainty. There was something wrong. He went back -to his own room, and all the way along the corridor the tap of his -footfall produced a hollow, echoing ring that spoke of utter emptiness. - -From his own window he took one final peep on to the football ground. -There at last he had seen a solitary youth, Harley’s Cinderella, walking -with downcast mien aimlessly across his front. It was his son. - -In the five minutes that had elapsed since that moment he had -endeavoured to reason things out, but it had been like groping one’s way -in the dark through some strange underworld. He was utterly bewildered, -and he was conscious of fast-growing anger. He eyed his son for a little -while petulantly, and at last he spoke. - -“There is nobody anywhere about the school,” said he indignantly. “The -place is deserted. Can you offer any explanation?” - -Roe did not hesitate. He was, in point of fact, glad to get it off his -chest. Besides the news was sensational and there is always a certain -gratification in breaking news of a kind that makes a man jump out of -his slippers. - -He spoke incisively. - -“Yes,” said he, “I think I can tell you what’s happened. The First -Fifteen have gone to Rainhurst to play the match of the season, and -every fellow in the school who could has gone over to see the game.” - -The effect of this news exceeded all expectation. - -For one moment his father merely looked dazed. But as he began to -recover Roe slowly backed towards the wall. Then he found himself -staring helplessly towards his father’s table, absolutely fascinated by -the fixed glare of his wide eyes shining with concentrated anger from -behind their spectacles, just as a rabbit is frozen still by the cold -eyes of a snake. His father did not speak. He just subsided slowly into -his chair and his eyes never left his son’s unhappy countenance. He was -looking him through and through, and Roe could see that he was at the -same time turning it all over in his mind and looking at this outburst -by a fettered school from every possible angle. Nothing was going to -escape consideration. The probability was that he was no more vexed at -the open lawlessness of such a match than at the astounding fact that -the officially appointed captain of football at the school had been left -out of the team by those who had selected it. He was very clearly taken -aback. - -At last his lips jerked open and he spoke, but no muscle of his body -moved, and his eyes never for one instant shifted from their close -examination of his son. His voice was ominously hard and dry. He said: - -“If you knew that this was going to happen why did you not mention it in -time for me to stop it?” - -Roe moved a pace nearer to the wall. - -“Coles said——” he began. - -“Coles?” snapped the Head. “What part has he in this? Has he gone with -the team? Is Coles playing for the school?” - -Roe tried to steady himself before he spoke. He answered after a -moment’s pause: - -“He’s playing. But he had a reason. He thought that if he refused -suspicion would settle upon him and spoil our chance of doing any good -later on. There was another thing too. He had made a plan.” - -“What plan?” The Head stood up. “Coles seems to imagine,” he exclaimed, -“that I wish him to come to my support with underhand plots. I require -no such help whatever. His suggestions of late have been an open insult -to the power of my authority. You will tell Coles that whatever I -require of him will be obtained by exacting his obedience to my -instructions and not by lending my ear to subterfuges. Coles utterly -misconceives his position. You will tell him that I am exceedingly angry -to find that to advance some plot of his own he agreed to disobey my -orders.” - -Roe shivered miserably. - -“And you,” declared his father, “what have you done to _stop_ this open -defiance of my instructions? You are captain of football here, and as my -own son you came to this school with a ready-made reputation. You could, -by strong action, have swayed the school to my support within a -fortnight. Instead you have been crassly inactive. This match has taken -place under your very nose and you have not so much as lifted a finger -to prevent it. We are well into the second half of term, and instead of -showing determination in tackling the state of affairs you are content -to be made ridiculous by a youngster whose sole qualification to -captaincy is his popularity. I am amazed.” - -Roe moved a step farther back. - -“I thought——” he began. - -“Be silent,” commanded the Head. “Listen to me. Immediately Rouse -returns you will tell him to come to my room without a moment’s delay——” - -Roe interrupted. - -“It’s no use sending for Rouse,” said he. “Everybody who’s playing has -sworn to take a share of the blame.” - -The Head stared at him. Roe proceeded to explain, but the Head was -impatient. - -“I shall see Rouse,” he repeated. “And you, as captain of football, will -make it your business to give him those instructions personally. There -is another thing. Mr Nicholson has gone up to London for the day. I -understand he is returning by car very late to-night. Instruct the -porter to send to his rooms and leave word that I require to see him -here to-morrow morning immediately before chapel. You yourself will -remain about the school until Rouse returns. Whatever time it may be you -will see that he comes here forthwith. If I am not here he will wait -until I return. You clearly understand?” - -“Yes, sir,” said Roe, in a melancholy whisper. - -The Head pointed towards the door, turned in his chair and picked up a -paper with hands that were trembling with suppressed wrath. Roe closed -the door gently behind him. - -As soon as he had gone the Head threw his paper on to the floor and -stood up. He moved to the window and stood there a moment looking out -upon the school’s strange solitude. It was tea-time. By now the match -must be nearly over. Within a few hours those who had broken his strict -command would be returning and going to their respective houses. - -He had until then to make up his mind as to the penalty that must be -paid. Rouse had challenged his son’s authority, and his son had proved -hopelessly unable to compete with him. Sudden keen disappointment came -into the Head’s heart. He felt extraordinarily alone. There was no -single being in the whole school who was upon his side. He had sent for -his son in the belief that his son stood out amongst ordinary boys as he -stood out amongst ordinary headmasters. His son had failed. He had -nobody now to depend upon. He stood entirely alone. But the school had -challenged him and he must find an answer. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - THE UNCOUNTED COST - - -Now and again words spoken in a hollow tone drifted through the night -and reached Terence in snatches. - -Occasionally he answered, but it was evident that one of those moods was -upon Rouse in which he loved to maintain a rambling monologue, content -to speak his changing thoughts or to register opinions as they came to -him without requiring any answer at all. - -Most of the boys had travelled by train, but many had returned as they -had come, by trap or bicycle; some were walking, however, and it was for -this latter reason that Rouse and Terence had elected to walk too. - -“We shall lose half the fun,” Rouse had affirmed, “if we do this thing -in too great comfort. Let’s have the satisfaction of knowing that, as -some of the kids have had to walk, we’ve walked too. It’s only -sporting.” - -He was talking again now. Terence pricked his ears politely. - -“It is not,” he was saying, “until you have wheeled one of these -infernal machines for about twelve miles without getting a ride even -down a bit of a hill that you properly understand why they are called -push-bikes.” - -Terence turned to look at him. - -Rouse was plodding a little in rear. It was pouring with rain and his -overcoat was soaked and shining; rain was even dripping from his very -ears. Yet the night was cheerfully illumined by his smile. Terence, who -had a handbag in one hand and the other in his pocket, nodded ahead. - -“We’re nearly there. You see those lights? That’s Harley!” - -He stepped out with new hope. One might have imagined that he had no -care in all the world. - -Rouse’s response came in a sober monotone: - -“You are quite right. That one red light, shining all alone, is the end -of the Headmaster’s cigar, I think. He will be waiting up for us with a -tray of cold supper. May heaven reward his kindly nature.” - -They walked on for another mile in contemplative silence. For a time -Terence took a turn at wheeling the bicycle. At last the cottage from -which they had borrowed it was reached, and it was gratefully returned -with the price of a new back tyre. - -Twenty minutes later they finally came to Harley’s gates. In the -distance they could just distinguish a group of youngsters who had been -walking ahead of them making their way stealthily across to Mainwright’s -house. - -They turned, and behind them they could hear the steady tread of another -couple who had been plodding along behind change suddenly to a cautious -softness. - -Rouse looked round him quizzically. At last he returned his gaze to -Terence. “Nick,” said he, “it would be well to rise on the toes.” Next -moment he was leading the way with a mysterious and ghostly tread along -the gravel path towards Morley’s. “It is the last lap,” said he. “I -wonder if we are going to secure a cigar or nuts.” - -Terence made no immediate reply. He was looking watchfully towards the -Headmaster’s room. But the blinds were drawn and only a dim light could -be seen within. - -They moved across the open. The rain was still beating down relentlessly -upon them. Little pools of water were spreading across the football -ground. There was a melancholy mist about the distant houses. They were -dog-tired. Whilst they went, their heads bowed a little to the downpour, -Rouse spoke no further word, not, however, because he was wondering in -his heart what was to be the outcome of that great game, but curiously -enough because his mind was busily planning how he could manage to get -another hot bath before he went to bed. - -When, therefore, right outside Morley’s, a figure came suddenly towards -them, Rouse looked up with a start. Then he stopped. It was impossible -to mistake the build of that young man. It was Christopher Woolf Roe. -Instinctively the captain of cricket and the captain of football drew -near to one another and waited for him to speak. They had not long to -wait. He stopped in front of them and looked at Rouse. - -“The Headmaster would like to speak to you,” he said. - -Rouse eyed him good-humouredly. - -“Did the Headmaster give you a _note_?” - -“No, he didn’t. He said you were to go to his room directly you came in -and wait there till he came back.” - -Rouse shook his head sadly. - -“I wonder if he knows that in my present condition I shall leave a pool -of water wherever I stand?” said he. “It seems such a pity to spoil his -carpet, doesn’t it? Besides, I shall sneeze so. And sneezing always -makes him cross.” - -Roe looked him slowly up and down with his pig-like eyes. - -“The fact is,” said he, with ill-concealed delight, “you’re in for it.” - -“If you mean to imply,” said Rouse, “that the Head is getting up a -raffle, let me say that you are mistaken. I shall not be in for it.” - -There was a moment’s pause. - -“All right,” said Roe at last. “I’ve told you, haven’t I?” - -He moved haughtily away, his duty done. Rouse and Terence looked -thoughtfully after him. - -“I think I’ll go along,” said Rouse, in a low voice. “When he sees how -wet I am he’ll cut it short.” - -“I’ll come along too.” - -Rouse laid a restraining hand upon his shoulder. “No. Leave things alone -for now. I’ll go and see what he’s got to say. There’ll be plenty of -time for you afterwards. Go in and see if you can’t bag me a hot bath! -And,” he added over his shoulder as he was moving off, “somewhere in my -study there’s a tin of sardines. It would be a rather pleasing thought -if you bust it open so that we can give them a decent burial on a slice -of bread.” - -Terence made no answer: he just stood hesitantly where Rouse had left -him watching as he went to meet his doom. - -And now the way across the sodden football ground seemed very long. Only -now that he was alone, and going backward instead of forward, did Rouse -thoroughly realise the ache that was in his legs. Each footstep became a -dragging effort. - -It suddenly struck him that this would never do. Roe would be watching -him. Very likely the Head was peeping out from behind his curtains. He -would look to them as if he were going guiltily to the scaffold. He -assumed an extravagant jauntiness after that. On the gravel path he met -the group of enthusiasts who had been walking behind him all the way -from Rainhurst, and he stopped and curveted humorously before them, his -overcoat shining like oilskin, raindrops flying like spray from his -sleeves and trouser legs. - -“The performing sea-lion,” said he. “My next will be Sir Henry Irving.” -He suddenly whipped his bowler hat from his head, dented it with one -blow of his clenched fist and pulled it far down over his ears. Then he -stood before them with folded arms. “Fifty faces under one -hat—Napoleon!” His hands flew to the battered bowler and twisted it -round with wild movements. “Charlie Chaplin!” Again he bounded about. -His hat received another violent buffet. He faced them again. “A Nun!” -Then he pulled it to one side and declared “Father Christmas!” Finally -he made one swift gesture and struck another pose. “The Head Man of -Harley,” said he. “Hard Roe.” - -So far as it could be, it was lifelike. The hat was perched well forward -over his forehead and his mouth was drawn down into a scowl. One knee -was bent a little and his hands were clasped behind imaginary -coat-tails. - -For perhaps two seconds he held the pose. Then a thunderous roar reached -him from almost immediately above his head. It was the voice of the -Head, and the noise shaped itself at last into the word: “_Rouse!_” - -Rouse shot to his full height like a man electrocuted and looked up. - -That which might very well have been the head of a bloodhound was -silhouetted against the lighted background of an open window. - -Rouse slowly punched his hat to its right shape and placed it tenderly -upon his head. The window was shut with a resounding bang. He began to -move along thoughtfully towards the old oak door, and long after he had -passed out of sight beyond it there still stood huddled aside in the -darkness his erstwhile audience in attitudes of absolute astonishment. - -Alone for a moment, Rouse spent a brief period of time in an attitude of -reverence striving to recover his proper dignity. Then he moved solemnly -forward across the small space that separated him from the oak door -wherein he was to learn his sentence. He knocked respectfully. At first -he could hear no answer. But at last the silence was broken and a stern -voice said to him: “Come in.” - -He went in cheerfully. Except for one electric candlestick upon the -writing-table, the room was in darkness, but the candle was so placed -that it shone directly upon the Head’s lined countenance, and Rouse -could see that it was very grimly set. He moved across the room and -stood before the table in readiness to learn the worst. Their eyes met. -Rouse did not give way. He looked at the Head, not impudently, but with -evident self-reliance. And the Head looked at him. - -“Where have you been, Rouse?” - -For one moment Rouse was in doubt as to how much was known, and it was -on the tip of his tongue to say: “Bird’s-nesting,” or: “I’ve been out -into the country, sir, and I was a bit late back.” But something in the -other’s expectant eyes warned him, and finally he answered simply -enough: “It was the Rainhurst match, sir. And we’ve been to play it.” - -The Head made no move. “You led me to believe that the whole of your -fixtures for the season were cancelled.” He paused. “In this school—or -indeed in any school—there must be one Head and one alone!” - -It occurred to Rouse to murmur brightly the truism that two heads are -better than one, but he remained discreetly silent. - -“My orders were that, until the captain of football was properly -recognised in this school, football was to cease. In addition, you have -been out of bounds. I find that the whole school have been with you and -there is no doubt that it was you who persuaded them to go. You have -dared to challenge my authority. By posing as a martyr to my stern -ruling you have earned such easy popularity that your vanity has grown -into a foolish bubble. I think that when the school wakes up to-morrow -to find what you have led them into that bubble will be pricked. You -will be no longer a self-appointed hero; you will have very little to be -proud about. No doubt you considered that by devising the expedition -which you led this afternoon you were covering yourself with fame. It -might have been so. But those who knew me at Wilton could tell you that -it was a very idle hope if you thought that you could defeat me.” He -paused. “Why did you do it?” he demanded, in sudden violent anger. - -Rouse was about to answer, but the Head leaned forward across the table -and pointed at him with a thick forefinger. It was clear that he -required no answer. - -“I can tell you why,” said he. “It was to gratify your self-conceit. In -the face of my stringent order, you deliberately arranged a match in -which you could pose as captain of the school team, purely to appease -your injured vanity.” - -He stopped suddenly. Rouse’s countenance had undergone a surprising -change. There was no longer any expression at all to be discerned upon -it. His face had become a mask. He was a little pale. The only signs -that there was any life behind it lay in the brightness of his eyes and -the occasional movement of his mouth. - -A gentle glow of satisfaction spread over the Headmaster. His words had -been meant to hurt and they had succeeded. He went on ruthlessly: - -“You had no thought whatever for the school. It was nothing to you that -junior boys were missing the whole of their football through your blind -selfishness. To retire from your false position was more than your crass -conceit would let you do. But to justify yourself in remaining a kind of -figurehead in the school you arranged this match. No doubt you have -considered the possibility of your expulsion. It may be that you think -your safety lies in strength of numbers.... You will tell me that you -are no more to blame than any other boy in the school. I believe others -are ready to say the same. I am fully prepared to find you eagerly -shirking the blame that any worthy captain would accept for the conduct -of his team. You, who were eager enough to pose as captain, are quite -unready to take responsibility. That you require the school to share -with you. I have considered that fact very carefully this evening whilst -I have sat here waiting for your return, and I have already said that -when the excitement of this afternoon has passed, and the aftermath sets -in, when the school looks round to-morrow for something freshly -interesting to attract them, they will receive a shock. I shall be -interested to notice how much you personally suffer from that shock. I -do not intend to expel you. I intend to demonstrate to the school -exactly what you have led them into, and your own punishment will lie in -the slow realisation that will come to you of the great injury which -you, in your vain bravado, have done to your school. From to-morrow -games of every conceivable kind will cease. Hitherto the boys, robbed of -football, have been able to glean some satisfaction from minor forms of -sport. To-morrow all such opportunities will have vanished. By my orders -the fives courts will be closed. The gymnasium will be locked up. I have -written a note this evening to the school’s boxing professional to tell -him that his services will not be required next term. Every kind of -sports kit in the school will be impounded. Any boy seen in athletic -attire will be placed in detention. In addition, the town will be placed -out of bounds. School hours will be increased. The only recreation -allowed will take the form of outdoor walks by forms under a form -master.” - -The Head suddenly sat back in his chair and made a gesture of final -triumph. - -“You have sinned,” said he, “but it is the school that will do penance.” - -Rouse had never so much as moved a muscle of his face. Just as he had -foretold, the raindrops had trickled into a pool about his feet. Now at -last his lips parted. - -“Thank you for telling me your intentions, sir,” said he. “I shall know -now what to do.” - -The Head rose slowly to his feet. - -“Your tone signifies that you still do not thoroughly understand the -great punishment you have brought upon the school. That decides for me -the one point upon which I was still uncertain. It is clear that there -is no hope of an altered attitude on your part. Let me then add this. I -have explained that all sports will cease and I have no intention of -relaxing my decision. It follows that every coach at present here will -be unemployed, and will therefore leave the school. Since there will be -no games, and no coaches, there will be no necessity for a games master. -Mr Nicholson will therefore go to another school. And it will be your -fault that the school has lost him.” He paused. “Now that you understand -the punishment that your bravado has brought upon those whom you essayed -to lead,” said he, “you may go.” - -There was a moment’s silence. Their eyes met. - -Then Rouse turned and out of the room he went; slowly, stiffly, as one -who walks in his sleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - THE CUP OF BITTERNESS - - -The Headmaster’s forecast of how the school would feel when they woke up -on the morning after, and of how they would take the news, was very -tolerably correct. Some heard the truth overnight and scarcely slept. -But it was not till breakfast-time on the Sunday morning that the report -could properly be spread. By dinner-time it had found its way into the -farthest corners of the school, and that everybody knew was evident by -the bump with which the school’s good spirits fell. Most boys had -wakened in excellent humour, refreshed after a good night, eager to talk -over with others the outstanding points of that great game, and full of -satisfaction at having been at the school during a term when such an -historic match had been played. - -They were ready, too, for fresh sensations. That followed as a matter of -course. Very few really believed that that expedition could have taken -place without somehow coming to the notice of the Head, and the air was -alive with surmise as to what he would do. - -The news of what he had already done hit them with a thud. - -At first it seemed incredible—that part which concerned Toby, anyway. -And then when confirmation of it came from every available source, and -there could be no further doubt, the school bowed their heads to the -blow, and Harley passed into mourning. - -There were many who could not believe that there was not some way out. -The ban on games was not so very terrible. But that, because of that -match with Rainhurst, Toby Nicholson should go, and with him the school -boxing coach and the gym. instructors, was too shockingly bad to be -true. Everybody had known why Toby had gone to town that day. He had -known about the match, and so he had kept away. Now he was to pay the -penalty for not denouncing it. For a while brains were dulled. The -brightest boys could think of no way of escape save humble apology to -the Head or open riot. The latter could scarcely save Toby; it might in -the end only serve to aggravate the general position, and the former was -almost more than they could visualise. It would, in any case, only mean -sacrificing Rouse to save Toby. - -In every study friends sat together in silent wretchedness. There was -scarcely a face in all the school that had not grown noticeably longer -since morning. Rouse was little to be seen. A few had passed him walking -across the open, with head erect and a face that was quite -expressionless, but none except seniors had had a word with him, and -even they could not guess accurately what his real feelings were. That -he was keeping them to himself, and that he was very badly hit, was the -most they could report. - -Terence only was with him in his study when Toby knocked quietly at the -door, just before dinner-time, and came in, and Rouse got up stiffly and -stood at the table watching him as he entered, palpably afraid to hope -for any better news. - -“Is it true, sir?” said he at last. “Did he mean it?” - -Toby rested his hands cheerfully upon his hips. - -“It’s true, yes; but after all, term’s nearly over. It’s not so very -awful.” - -Rouse drew away. - -“But it’s my fault. That’s the trouble. The Head told me so. He got at -me.” He paused. There was silence for a moment. Then he said again: “He -got at me.” - -“How?” - -“Somehow he’d come to know that the fellows had planned to share the -blame. He said I was afraid to take it on my own shoulders. He said it -was my personal vanity that the school would have to suffer for now. -Because I was too conceited——” - -Toby stopped him. - -“He didn’t tell me that. He said that I was clearly too recently a -schoolboy to carry proper weight with the fellows here now. His idea was -that it would do me a great deal of good to go to another school for a -while and gain experience in handling youngsters, and then in a year or -so’s time perhaps come back here, with a heavier manner about me, and -try again. He considers that half the trouble here this term has been -because I have not exercised proper influence with you chaps. He is -prepared to recommend me to a post at another school. But to strengthen -his own position here, he wants me to go this week and not to wait till -the end of the term. That’s all.” - -Rouse shook his head. - -“No,” said he. “He was right. It’s my fault; and besides, how about -Wilcox and the gym. sergeants?” - -“Wilcox has had notice,” answered Toby. “The Head is going to recommend -him for another job, too. The gym. sergeants are to shut up the gym. and -go for a holiday. And they’re to wait instructions. But he doesn’t want -me to come back whilst you two are here. He thinks I’ve a bad influence -over you somehow or other.” - -“What shall we do?” asked Terence, speaking for the first time. “Where -will you go?” - -“I shall go for a holiday,” he answered. “And,” he added, “_you’ve_ got -to cheer up. You’ve had your good time. You played the match. My biggest -regret is that I wasn’t there to see it. I don’t mind my gruelling. You -mustn’t mind yours.” - - * * * * * - -Now there was throughout this mournful Sunday only one study in Harley -that held a young man whose countenance was not distressed. Upon this -young man’s lips there was, as a matter of fact, a decided smile. He sat -at his table looking cheerfully across the room at Christopher Woolf -Roe, and when he spoke his voice was light. - -“When I first heard it,” he was saying, “I was frightfully fed up, -because I’d a pretty decent chance of being captain of boxing next year -and I’ve been practising a good deal, whilst there’s been no footer. It -seemed to me that this rather upset my apple-cart. I had a sudden vision -of boxing being barred next term, just like footer has been this, and I -can tell you I didn’t like it. But I can see now that after all it isn’t -at all a bad scheme of your father’s. He’s caught them on the hop. -To-day everybody will be Rugger mad. And this is the time to get them. -You and I may be able to give some colours away even yet. Did you tell -your father about my plan?” - -“Well, I told him you had one, but as a matter of fact he got rather -annoyed.” - -Coles was decidedly taken aback. - -“Annoyed? Why?” - -“He seemed to think it was a bit patronising of you to make a plan at -all.” - -“Oh, nonsense!” snapped Coles. “He didn’t understand. You didn’t explain -it properly.” - -“I didn’t have time.” - -Coles shrugged his shoulders. - -“Well, anyway, I shall try it all the same, and then when he finds out -how successful it turns out perhaps he’ll alter his mind. When I first -got the idea I never thought I’d have such a topping chance as this to -put it into effect. Just imagine Rouse’s feelings now. If ever he’s -going to do what we want, now’s the chance. If he needs anything to help -him decide we ought to send it to him. My original idea was just to play -on the fact that he’d had his day and he ought to be satisfied, and let -the school get on with it. This is twenty times better. It’s a dead -snip.” He laughed shortly. After a moment he opened a book upon the -table and took from between the pages a sheet of plain paper. This he -passed with evident pride to Roe. “Would you recognise that writing?” -said he. - -Roe peered at it thoughtfully. - -“No,” said he at last. “It looks like some kid’s.” - - * * * * * - -Curiously enough, Terence expressed exactly the same opinion when that -sheet of paper was handed to him a few hours later. He added, however, a -brief proviso. - -“Naturally,” said he, “a fellow who wants to write an anonymous letter -doesn’t use his own handwriting.” - -Rouse had moved to his side and was reading it through again with solemn -eyes. At last he spoke. - -“Do you think that’s true? Whoever he is, do you think he’s right?” - -“I think he’s off his nut.” - -Rouse laid the paper upon the table and carefully smoothed it out. Then -he sat down and began to read it through all over again. - -It was quite a short note. It had no proper beginning and no ending. It -purported to be a mere statement of fact. - - -“There is a general feeling in the school,” it read, “that as you have -had your ambition and led the school team on the footer field you ought -to give way now. The fellows think that if it’s a question of -sacrificing either you or Mr Nicholson, it ought not to be Mr Nicholson -who must suffer for what was your idea. Some of us have decided to let -you know this.” - - -For a little while Rouse sat with his head propped in his hands staring -at it fixedly, and eventually he sat back. - -“Whoever it was,” said he, “he read my thoughts very well indeed. What -he’s written down is exactly what I’ve been thinking all day. The only -thing I’m afraid of is this. Supposing I go to the Head and give in. -Supposing I promise to play under Roe and get the school to recognise -him as captain. What will the Head do? Will he play the game? I’ve got a -horrible fear at the back of my head that he won’t. I can picture the -way he’ll smile. He’ll say that he’s very glad to hear it. And then if I -say: ‘Now, will you let Mr Nicholson stay?’ he’ll open his eyes at me -and say: ‘Good gracious, boy, I’m not here to make bargains. My decision -of last night was not a threat; it was a punishment.’ And then I shall -have humbled the school for nothing.” - -Terence moved towards him again and gripped him by the shoulders. - -“Look here. Don’t you do anything confoundedly idiotic. Leave the Head -absolutely alone. We’re not going to let a man win a fight by hitting -below the belt. Toby can look after himself. As he says, it’s nearly the -end of term already. We’ll see it out. This rotten note is a lie from -start to finish. There’s no such feeling in the school at all. Don’t you -be guyed by a thing like this.” - -“Well, who’s written it?” demanded Rouse. “Tell me that. The thing was -left lying on this table. Somebody must have put it there.” - -Terence took it up once more. - -“Let’s have another look,” said he. - -Next moment there came a gentle tap at the door, and the one who in all -the school Rouse would have least wanted to see that note came in, and -he sprang up quickly. It was Toby. - -Rouse looked at Terence with quick meaning, but Terence ignored him. - -“Here, Toby,” said he, “you’re just the chap we want. Have a look at -this.” - -Rouse sprang towards it. - -“No. Give it to me. It’s mine. My mind’s made up. That doesn’t make any -difference at all.” - -“Yes, it does,” said Terence sharply. “It’s getting at you. You believe -it’s true.” - -“It is true. Give it to me. I want it.” - -Terence pushed him away, then stretched out his hand towards Toby. - -“Take it,” he said. “Tell Rouse what you think of a thing like this.” - -Toby came towards him with a puzzled manner. He glanced quickly at -Rouse, and noting his expression turned to Terence; then in the scramble -for possession, he suddenly snatched the sheet of paper out of his hand -and moved aside with it. Rouse stopped abruptly and looked at him -hopelessly, while Terence, glaring defiantly, sat down at last in a -chair and said: - -“Don’t be such an ass. Why shouldn’t he see it? It’s only Toby.” - -There was a short silence. - -At last Toby looked at them each in turn. - -“Where did you get this?” - -“He found it on the table when he came in after dinner,” said Terence. - -“Who do you suppose put it there?” - -“I only wish I knew.” - -“D’you know who wrote it?” - -“No,” said Terence. “Either someone’s disguised his handwriting or else -it’s a mere kid.” - -“What does it matter anyway?” said Rouse. “It’s true, and that’s an end -of it.” - -Toby was reading it through again and looking carefully at the writing. - -“As a matter of fact,” he said at last, “I can tell you who wrote this.” - -The two chums turned to him. - -“There’s only one fellow I know of who makes a ‘T’ like that,” said -Toby. “It’s a pretty good effort at hiding his hand, but it’s not quite -good enough. I could identify that ‘T’ anywhere. I’ve seen it too often. -The fellow who wrote this is in my form.” - -He waited a moment as if that were an intentional hint. - -“Well?” said Terence. - -“Carr wrote this.” - -There was a moment’s utter stillness. At last Terence made a peculiar -noise in his throat and turned contemptuously away. Rouse moved slowly -towards Toby, and taking the note from him again looked at it once more. - -Then he said: - -“Carr? Why on earth should Carr write a thing like this?” - -“Oh, you ass,” cried Terence, jumping up with a wild gesture. “Can’t you -see it? Haven’t you tumbled yet? Why, good Lord, man! whose fag is -Carr?” - -“Coles’,” said Rouse, in a whisper. - -“Yes,” repeated Terence, “Coles’.” He waited a moment. “And so,” he -added, “Carr wrote that because he was made to. Hasn’t Coles got a hold -on the kid? Didn’t Henry tell us that Carr was the only fellow who -wasn’t delighted about the match? Do you wonder he wasn’t delighted when -he knew he’d got to write something like this on the strength of it? -Coles probably intended to send you a note like this anyway. The Head’s -given him a better opening than he ever bargained for, that’s all. Carr -wrote it, yes. And Coles made it up.” - -Rouse turned very slowly upon his heel and faced him. - -“Then,” said he, “if that’s so, it may have been Coles who let the Head -know that all you fellows had promised to share the blame if there were -any trouble about this match.” - -“I should say it most certainly was. He probably told Roe and got him to -pass it on.” - -“Yes,” said Rouse thoughtfully. “Yes. I suppose that would be it.” - -For a moment or two he stood like a man awaking from a trance. His eyes -passed slowly and unseeingly round well-known objects about the study, -and came to rest at last upon Toby’s thoughtful countenance. - -“Did you want to see me, sir?” - -“What I came in about will wait,” said Toby. “But now that I’m here I -should just like to say this. If you do anything fat-headed—anything on -the lines of that letter—it will be strictly against my wishes, and -absolutely against the best interests of the school. If you lose your -nerve now you may undo all the good that your example has done for the -school throughout this term. I am going to-morrow, and when I leave here -I want to be sure that you will carry on the good work you have been -doing all the way through the term. I want you to promise me not to give -in just because—it hurts. It’s not for your sake, it’s for the good of -Harley.” - -“Yes, that’s all right, sir,” said Rouse, in a peculiarly small voice. -“I quite understand. You can trust me to see that the chaps hang on to -the end ... now. I wasn’t thinking of that so much. Only if you don’t -want me particularly I’d like you to excuse me a moment?” He paused. “I -should like,” he added, “to go along and find Coles.” - -The brothers Nicholson looked first at him and then at one another. -Clearly the same thoughts had entered either mind. - -It was Terence who spoke. - -“There’s only one thing,” said he. “I ought to just mention it. You -haven’t forgotten that Coles is something of a boxer? You remember he -won the heavyweights last year?” - -Rouse nodded his head. - -“I know.” - -“That’s all right then,” said Terence. “Would you like me to wait here?” - -“You can wait anywhere you like,” said Rouse, “as long as you don’t come -too.” He began to walk out of the door, then turned and spoke over his -shoulder. “Yes,” he said rather more graciously, “I _should_ rather like -you to be here when I come back if you don’t mind waiting.” - -He went out and closed the door behind him, then he began to walk -quickly along the corridor and down the stairs. Out in the open he -became an object of general interest. He was conscious that all who met -him glanced at him in curiosity. He gave no sign of his feelings at all. -He looked at one or two that he met and nodded to them cheerfully. At -last he was opposite Seymour’s, and he went in and mounted the stairs -two at a time. - -Outside Coles’ study he stopped just for a second and knocked. Then he -went in. At first there appeared to be nobody inside. But he glanced -into the corner where an easy-chair was placed before the fire and -observed a tuft of hair showing above it. He moved forward and leaned -over. Coles was sitting there asleep. His mouth was open and his -features limp. A plain young man awake, he was widely renowned for his -extreme ugliness when asleep. Rouse dropped his hand on to his shoulder -and shook him vigorously. There came a distant growling. Rouse continued -to shake. - -“What on earth is it?” muttered the object in the chair, slowly opening -his eyes. “Who wants me? Why don’t you——” He recognised Rouse with a -start and stopped abruptly. “Hullo!” he said. He rose somewhat foolishly -and began to smooth his hair with his hands. “I was asleep.” - -“Yes,” said Rouse calmly. “So I noticed. I’m just about to put you to -sleep _again_ too.” - -“Eh?” - -Rouse explained. - -“I’m going to hit you under the chin,” said he, “and I hope it’ll hurt. -I thought you’d like to know.” - -At first Coles only stared at him confusedly, but presently the effects -of sleep began to pass from him, and he collected his thoughts and made -ready to deal with the situation. He went over Rouse’s surprising -statement word for word, in silent communion with his inner self, -analysing it with evident care, and at length he looked up at Rouse -queerly. - -“You’re going to hit me under the chin? But why are you going to do -that?” - -He did not seem particularly disturbed at the prospect. He was merely -politely interested. Possibly this was because he was very well aware -that he himself could box and that Rouse could not. - -Rouse did not waste words. He laid that strangely significant sheet of -paper upon the table rather as if it were a mandate, and pointed at it -wrathfully. - -“I think you’ve seen that before?” - -Coles leaned forward indifferently. - -“What is it? I can’t see.” - -Next moment it was thrust angrily before his eyes and held there. - -“Can you see it now?” said Rouse. “Is that _your_ composition?” - -Coles read it through coolly. - -“Are you under the impression that I wrote this?” - -“I know who wrote it,” said Rouse. “I’m asking you whether you made it -up.” - -Coles weighed his answer with care. - -“If I wanted to write a note to you I should put my name to it. This has -been written by some kid.” - -Rouse folded the paper up and put it in his pocket with some -deliberation. - -“We won’t argue about it. I didn’t really expect you to admit the truth. -But I wanted to mention it to you so that you’d understand what the -trouble was about. There’s another thing as well. Can you tell me how -the Head found out that everybody who played in the match yesterday had -promised to take a fair share of the blame if there were any trouble?” - -“I wasn’t even aware that he did find out.” - -“Well, he did. And that’s one reason why he decided to punish the whole -school by sending Mr Nicholson away. I suppose, as a matter of fact, you -told Roe?” - -Coles pushed his chair angrily away from him and faced Rouse across a -clear space. When next he spoke his voice was thick. His wicked temper -was rising rapidly beyond control. - -“Is this all you came in for? Did you butt in here and wake me up just -to chuck lies at me, or is there anything else you want to say? If not -you can get out, and as quickly as you like. You may think you’re still -captain of footer, and you may think sheer swank will carry you through -to the end of the term. But it won’t go much further with me. I’ve had -enough of it. Either get out or apologise.” - -[Illustration: - - “I THINK YOU’VE SEEN THAT BEFORE?”] - -Rouse drew back a little. He was slowly turning up the sleeves of his -jacket. - -“I came in here to hit you under the chin. As soon as you’re ready I’ll -begin.” - -Coles looked at him with a certain narrow satisfaction, then pushed the -table to one side and moved a chair. - -“You can see how much space there is here. You’ll have to stand up to -it. It won’t be much use running round the room when you find how it -hurts.” - -Then as he put up his hands Rouse stepped in without delay and struck at -him with his clenched fist. What followed was very much what might have -been expected. For a little while Rouse appeared likely to slaughter his -man before the fight had really got going. His blows knew the utter fury -of one who fights with right upon his side but very little science. Any -one of these blows would, had they landed fairly and squarely upon their -target, have put Coles down and out. Unhappily they were all partly -warded off. Coles merely seemed to stand aside and watch Rouse -interestedly as he strove to find an opening, and at last, when the -opportunity arose, he hit back at him with all his force and brought him -up short. - -As Rouse came in again Coles took up the defensive rôle once more. He -had never shown better form. The cramped nature of the room prevented -any possibility of footwork. It was incumbent upon him to stand his -ground and fight, and this seldom suits a boxer who can use his feet, -but Coles suited himself to the circumstances with outstanding success. -His temper, which a few moments ago had been at fever heat, slowly -cooled off as he found himself gaining the upper hand. The thought that -a few moments hence he would have Rouse at his mercy acted as a sedative -upon him, and presently he smiled. Rouse noticed it and drew back for a -breather, collecting his energy the while for a greater and fiercer -onslaught yet. Next moment Coles’ left shot out and tilted back his -head. The pain of the blow was considerable, but in his present mood it -counted with Rouse as naught. He set his teeth, adopted a new pose and -prepared to dash in again. Before he had finally made up his mind, -however, which hand to hit with, that long left had come out again and -drawn a trickle of blood from his nose. He moved forward wrathfully and -suddenly let fly with his own left. Coles caught the blow neatly with -his elbow and slammed in a right swung. For a second or so it seemed to -Rouse that his neck had been broken. He was not at all sure where he -was. It came to him quite suddenly that he had fallen sideways and hit -his head against the wall, so he straightened himself with an almost -deprecating smile and put up his hands again. - -Just as before Coles’ left shot out and tapped his nose. Rouse became -decidedly annoyed. He sprang in and swung up his fist towards Coles’ -chin. To hit Coles on the chin was all he had come for, and he could see -no reason for delaying any longer. The blow never landed. Coles merely -tilted his head tauntingly out of reach and countered again with his -right. Rouse swayed giddily backwards and was brought up straight again -by a blow in the middle of the waistcoat. Then for a few short moments -he stood still, considering the situation in a puzzled manner whilst he -faced Coles with a badly bleeding countenance and glassy eyes. The worst -of a fight with bare fists is that it makes such a mess. He could feel -that his face was rapidly growing unsightly; he was aware that blood was -dripping down his chin and on to his collar. Unfortunately he could do -nothing to stop it. - -He had had no fights since his early youth. Coles was hitting very -straight and cruelly hard. He seemed to be planting blows on the same -place over and over again too. Rouse could tell that from the pain of -their landing. - -At last he found himself rocking groggily on his pins and he pulled -himself together sharply, and when next Coles came at him he struck out -lustily with either hand. One blow landed and he was delighted beyond -measure. The other was somehow lost in mid-air, and before he could -puzzle out what had happened Coles had hit him again with his straight -left and dazed his thinking powers. - -Rouse’s eyes recovered their normal vision slowly, and he looked before -him. The walls seemed to be caving in, the chairs and the tables were -dancing before his eyes. Coles looked disproportionate and rather -horrible. He wondered if all this meant that he was going to be beaten. -He could not believe it. To be licked by Coles, particularly when it was -he himself who had started the fight, would be the last drop in his cup -of bitterness. He dimly conceived what he would feel like when the news -went round the school. What would Nick say when he crept back with a -disfigured countenance and a look of shame? These thoughts passed -through his mind at high speed but with peculiar clearness, and their -effect was immediate. He poised himself squarely upon his feet. Somehow -or other he had got to hit Coles on the chin, and if he could not do it -by attack then he would do it by countering with all his force each time -Coles himself came in. As he waited he furtively wiped his mouth with -the back of his hand. His lips were very bruised. One of his teeth was -loose. He felt quietly angry and decidedly disappointed. But under no -circumstances whatever would he give in. He was not going to admit -defeat even if it were pointed out to him whilst he lay stiffly -outstretched upon the floor. In point of fact he found himself wondering -whether there would be room for him to lie stiffly on that particular -floor anyway. He very nearly smiled at that. Then with sudden resolution -Coles was moving forward. To Rouse he seemed strangely magnified. He -came with a watchful attitude, his eyes brightly ashine, his clenched -fists ready as if for a final blow. Rouse made preparation. With -alarming suddenness Coles was on top of him. His fists were striking out -with terrible intent. They were landing almost as they liked. Rouse -rocked this way and that. At last he caught a sudden glimpse of Coles’ -face for once temptingly exposed, and he hit out on the spur of the -moment. His fist landed gloriously, and with delightful accuracy, upon -the chin, and he gave a sigh of content. Whatever else happened now he -had at least done what he had come for. He had hit Coles on the chin. -The blow gave him a second’s respite. He had evidently hurt Coles a good -deal. Yet in the end it availed him little. Before the faint smile of -satisfaction had died from his lips Coles was up against him again, -driving at his face with long arms that could not be properly avoided. -He fell forward, and finding himself leaning against Coles’ waistcoat, -struck at it cheerfully with each hand in turn, and heard Coles grunt -distressfully. He drew back to give himself more room. Coles was a -little unsteady upon his feet. - -They could face each other now upon more level terms. Rouse watched him -closely, wondering what his next move would be. His own strength was -giving out and he had no intention of wasting it in fruitless attacks. - -Then Coles began to spar for an opening. Rouse waited dubiously, not -knowing quite what this portended. He received a blow full in the mouth -with the utmost surprise, and found himself falling backwards against -the wall again. He strove to stand upright. Coles’ chin showed again for -one moment clearly exposed, and he struck at it with all the enthusiasm -which he still possessed, but the blow only half landed. Then he became -suddenly angry at the absurdity of fighting in the preposterous amount -of space afforded by Coles’ study. In his last tumble he had barked his -leg against a fallen chair. Unless his eyesight deceived him there was -not a picture in all the room that was hanging straight. - -Blood had splashed across a part of the wall-paper. - -But he remembered again that after all it had been he who had started -the fight. It was his own fault. - -Coles was coming again. Rouse strove to stand steadily. His face was to -be the target again. He could see severe intention in Coles’ face. But -now resolve came to him anew. He would not be knocked out. He would -fight to the end. So long as he stood up he could not be considered -beaten. He looked for Coles with fiery eyes and smote at him. Coles was -grinning. As he smote that grin vanished suddenly, and he knew that he -had got home. He steadied himself and smote again. Again he landed -nicely. Then it was Coles’ turn. He struck cleanly, and once again Rouse -tumbled sideways. His hand went out and found the wall, and he steadied -himself like that for a moment, then turned and looked for Coles again. -He began to wish he had taken off his coat. He might have done better. -He was uncomfortably hot. There was a nasty taste in his mouth. His eyes -were closing. His head sang. He was giddy. Coles caught him in the face. -He rocked a little more. At last he began to slither foolishly down the -wall. Half-way he stopped, one hand propping him up. He tried to give -himself a shove off towards Coles, and floundered towards him hopefully. -Coles loomed up against him with fists like small hams feeling their way -towards his face again. One of them landed with a resounding smack. He -sank down on to the floor and stayed there for a moment. At last he got -up. Coles said nothing. He just got ready to hit again. - -Rouse saw it coming. He would not be beaten. He struck out for himself -gamely, missed, and hit again. Coles got in the way of that last one and -received it on the chin, and Rouse tried to follow it up. He was half -afraid that if Coles hit him again he would succumb. He drew away from -the friendliness of the wall and tumbled against the table. They were -out in the only clear space in the room again at last, and, facing -Coles, he saw him preparing for a final blow; he put up his tired hands -doggedly, leaned forward and struck at the dim shadow that was Coles, -but the shadow slipped aside. Then he received a thudding blow in the -mouth, heard himself give an unwitting sob of despair, felt himself -falling. He was on the floor. He tried to get up. His limbs would not -answer his behests. He kicked out uselessly with one leg trying to find -support. At last he lay still. - -When at length he came vaguely to his senses and looked round and about, -Coles was sitting on the table staring at him sullenly. - -He noticed with interest that Coles was marked about the face rather -more heavily than he had supposed. Then he closed his eyes again. At -last he struggled up. He looked for Coles politely, found himself -standing with his back towards him, and turned. - -His lips were swollen and difficult to control, so that he spoke with a -certain indistinctness. - -“Well,” he said, “I’d misjudged things. You can box and I can’t. You -were too hot for me. If you don’t mind we’ll go on with this another -day. And between now and then I’ll learn to box too.” - -Coles looked at him contemptuously. - -“You’re too late,” said he. “There isn’t going to be any boxing. It’s -knocked on the head. That’s one of the thoughtful things you’ve done for -the school, and I hope you’re satisfied.” - -Rouse turned and went out. The corridor was deserted and he was -grateful. He was not anxious to be seen coming out of Coles’ study like -that. He went unsteadily down the stairs and out into the open. The cold -wind cut at the broken skin bitterly, but now he held his head high and -went almost proudly across the open towards Morley’s. He was not of the -type that show their inner feelings to one and all. He knew that fellows -of all kinds and conditions in Harley would be looking to him for a lead -as to the correct behaviour at this final crisis, and he must set the -right example. It was possible that they might think his face had -suffered like that in the match, and in any case he was not going to -look ashamed about it. Even when Coles began to boast, and people came -to know that he had picked a quarrel with Coles and had got a hiding, -there were only a very few in the school who would not understand that -Coles could box and he couldn’t. - -He came at last to his own study and went in. Toby had gone, but Terence -rose from a chair and moved towards him. He took one glance at Rouse and -turned away. There was a moment’s silence. Rouse went to the table and -sat down. He was trembling a little. His hands would not keep still. At -last he looked up. - -Presently he made his confession. - -“He put me down,” said he. - -“Often?” asked Terence gently. - -“Yes. Quite often.” - -Terence nodded his head sympathetically. He saw that there was no need -for words. - -At last Rouse leaned his elbows upon the table and buried his battered -face in his hands. There was nobody but Terence there to see, so what -did it matter? He was suddenly brave no more ... he was speaking his -inner feelings. - -“This is the term that was to have been an unbeaten season, and it’s -come to pieces in our hands.” He waited. The room was very silent. “The -chaps haven’t got to look far to see what I’ve done for the school. I’ve -ruined the footer, and now because of me every game that a man can think -of has been stopped, and I’ve got Toby the sack—the finest fellow who -ever stepped. Last of all I’ve had a licking from the fellow who always -said that I wasn’t any good. What will the school say to that? Perhaps -now they’ll see through me. Perhaps they’ll turn to somebody else. -Supposing it’s Coles? I wonder whether it’s too late to get the Head to -do the right thing.... P’r’aps if I did something outside the pale he -might expel me—and keep Toby.” - -Terence moved to him quickly. - -“Listen,” he began. “Don’t talk like that. You’re forgetting. You -promised Toby you’d hang on. Every chap in the school’s looking to you -for a lead. And the side that wins this fight will be the side that can -stick it out. You’re not going to weaken—now. This is the crisis. Every -day we’re giving him more rope. Maybe he’ll hang himself if we only hang -on. But if we give in now he’s won.” - -There was silence. Rouse did not look up. - -“Toby’s going to-morrow, and he told me to tell you the Head will find -that the worst thing he ever did was to send him away. Toby’s not the -only old Harleyan. Some of the others have influence. Lots of them have -brothers here now—and sons. Sooner or later there’ll be a thundering -row. I’ve got an idea Toby’s going to get amongst them and that all this -will work out to the Head’s destruction. But we’ve got to stick it out. -You see that, don’t you? If you were to get expelled—we should have -lost. We’ve got to play a safe game till Toby gets to work.” - -He stopped. - -Rouse got slowly to his feet. - -“Yes,” he said at last, “that’s right. We’ve got to stick it out.” - - - - - CHAPTER XX - THE LAST ROUND - - -They were like days of drought. Wherever one moved about the school one -noticed everywhere the same set look on every fellow’s face of patient -resolution. There was very little ragging. Harley had become a kind of -expanded orphan school. They took their exercise in crocodile formation, -moving shamefacedly two by two. The only permitted recreation was the -reading of heavy books. No boy so much as dared to kick a fives ball -before him along the gravel path. Few had the heart to whistle. To those -who were onlookers of it all—the masters, school servants, neighbouring -inhabitants—this had never been expected. So soon as the news had sped -its rounds that Toby was leaving, and that all games were to cease, -those who were wisest shook their heads and foretold whole-hearted -revolution. Some vividly imagined the Head being captured by boys and -ducked. Others anticipated open refusal to do any work whatever in -school hours. Yet Harley took them by surprise. They went like lambs, -and this was because they had a memory to give them heart. - -It was the day that Toby had left. He had caught an early train. With -barely half-a-dozen exceptions the whole school had turned out to say -good-bye. It had been like a ceremonial parade on Founder’s Day. Toby -had shaken hands with every fellow he could reach. He had said nothing -at all. He had just shaken hands. And the fellows had understood. They -had started to sing: “He’s a jolly good fellow.” Rouse had stopped them. -He had got up on to a pile of boxes at the station and addressed them -with some hesitation and an uncertain voice, and he had explained things -to them. - -“We’ve got to stick it out.” Those had been his words. Toby had foreseen -this possibility and he had sent that message. “Hang on till he can -bring up reinforcements from outside. Do nothing that may make it harder -for you to wait. Get nobody expelled. Wait. Things will come out all -right if you only show your grit. All you’ve got to do is to stick it -out.” - -They had understood. - -Toby was leaving then, not for good, but merely as their messenger to -every other old Harleyan who still loved the school, and every parent, -and he would fetch help. They need write no whining letters home. Toby -would know how to do it. There would be no unpleasant scandal, no -trouble with the Press. Toby had the honour of the school at heart. He -would know how to do it. Sooner or later the Head would find that out. -Then it would be their day. Till then their duty lay in knowing how to -wait. Every day that passed and left them idle and bored to tears would, -nevertheless, be a day upon which Toby would without doubt have gone -another step on the road of retribution. - -Whether he could call up the outside forces in time to avail during the -present term could not be guessed. But he would be working for them. -That would be enough. This was the memory that those who looked on in -wonder at the school’s forbearance did not understand. It was Harley’s -secret. - -So the days passed. - -The Head, for his part, found them pleasant days. He knew at last the -wonder of his power. His strength had triumphed. He had the reputation -of never doing the expected. His answer to their challenge had taken the -wind completely from their sails and left them open-mouthed with awe. -They were spellbound with his invincible strength of purpose. They -realised at last that they had met their master. Slowly but surely he -was making them bow before him. They had counted upon him making Rouse -the scapegoat and they had prepared to defeat him. Instead he had -defeated them. The feeling was delightful. He went his way with a -shrewdly grim expression befitting a man of such resolution, but at -heart he was laughing in delight. He began to overlook the -disappointment he had experienced in his son. Perhaps his son was not to -blame. After all, one of his stamp in one family was all that folk could -reasonably expect. He looked round and about him each day and saw boys -wriggling under his iron rule. He did not wonder why they did not defy -him. He was content to know that they were learning a lesson they would -never forget as long as they lived, and he gloried in prolonging it. -Once he reminded them that their punishment could not be lightened in -any way until Rouse came to him to say that the school would bow to his -ruling and would recognise his son. They just ignored him. - -So days passed. - -Soon Toby had been gone a fortnight. No news came. Terence had had -letters but they conveyed only one exhortation. They gave no such -message as the whole school longed so feverishly to hear. - -And then at last, when the utter weariness of life had grown almost more -than they could bear, and some had begun to doubt if Toby could really -do anything for them, something happened. Terence was sitting with Rouse -in his study one evening when there sounded upon the door a sharp, -peremptory knock. Then the door swung on its hinges and there entered -one who held himself strangely erect, whose chin was so proudly uplifted -that he seemed a living example of the proud and patient spirit that was -keeping Harley solid during this the last round of the long fight. His -glasses had slipped a little over the bridge of his nose, and when he -stopped and brought his gaze to bear upon them each in turn he looked at -them quaintly over the rims. At last his bearing relaxed. Safely inside -the room with the closed door behind him he became suddenly a human boy, -and it was clear that he was somewhat unsettled. It made him rather more -likeable. - -“I want to tell you something,” he began. “P’r’aps I ought to have come -before, but I’ve been waiting to make sure.” - -“What is it, Henry?” said Rouse. - -Henry cast a deprecating eye at his clothes and, following his gaze, -Rouse perceived that they were smeared with dirt. He held out his hands -and revealed their blackened palms. - -“I’ve been climbing up another drain-pipe.” - -“How many is that you’ve climbed up now?” asked Rouse. “What is your -average for the season?” - -Henry ignored him. - -“There’s a drain-pipe at Seymour’s,” said he, “that takes you on to a -ledge, and you can walk along the ledge and look into Coles’ study.” - -“What did you want to look into Coles’ study for?” - -“I didn’t look in,” said Henry. “I listened.” - -He paused. Rouse was looking at him dubiously. Terence had moved from -his chair and was leaning over the table. - -“Why couldn’t you listen at the door, then?” - -Henry looked at him scornfully. It seemed almost superfluous to explain -that in the cinematograph world nobody listens at a door if they can -climb up a pipe and listen at a window. He heaved a sigh. - -“Something has happened,” he said. “Until now no single fellow in the -school has let us down. If the Head’s been looking for a chance to put -the screw on a bit, he’s been disappointed. No one’s been caught out -after the hours he laid down. No one has broken bounds. No one’s played -games. The chaps have hung together. But to-night I came across Bobbie -Carr creeping out of school just before seven o’clock.” - -“Well,” said Rouse, “what did you do?” - -“I stopped him and asked him where he was going, and he wouldn’t say. I -jawed him a bit and told him that no matter what he was going for he -wasn’t playing the game. I said he was bound to be caught, and he’d be -the first one who’d let us down.” - -“Did he turn back?” - -“No,” said Henry soberly. “He shook me off and went on.” - -“And where do you think he’s gone?” - -For a moment Henry hesitated. Then he spoke up boldly. - -“Seeing how much I know,” said he, “I hadn’t got any doubt. It was my -idea that Coles was sending him down to the town to get something to -drink.” - -The captain of cricket and the captain of football looked at one another -gravely and finally looked at Henry. - -“And so,” continued Henry, looking at them modestly over the tops of his -glasses, “I decided to get additional information, and I climbed up the -drain-pipe and listened at Coles’ window.” - -“Well?” said Terence. - -“There isn’t any doubt about it at all. Coles was in there with some of -his pals and they’re drinking. Young Carr’s been sent for another -bottle.” There was a brief silence. “That’s isn’t quite all,” said Henry -presently. “I went back to the little gates and waited for Carr to come -back. I meant to take the stuff away from him and bring it to you. -But—he’s never come back. I’ve waited an hour and a half. One of two -things has happened. Either he’s broken the bottle and gone back for -another, or else after what I told him he’s afraid to come back. Perhaps -he’s run away.” Henry concluded on a low note. He was clearly -distressed. “Any day now,” said he, “Mr Nicholson might make something -happen. The chaps have hung together all this time and given the Head no -loophole. Now this will be found out.” - -It was Terence who answered first. He turned to Rouse. - -“You’ve tackled Coles once,” said he. “It’s my turn. I might have better -luck. I’ll go to his study and make him say where Carr’s gone.” - -Rouse shook his head. - -“No, it would be no use. If he’s at all tight he’d only make an unholy -shindy. That’d be worse than anything. I’ll go out. I’ll see if I can’t -find young Carr somewhere or other between here and the town and bring -him in.” - -“Why should you go?” demanded Terence. “Supposing you get caught -yourself? The Head isn’t going to give you a second chance, you know. -It’s asking for trouble.” - -“I’ll have to go,” said Rouse, “because all the trouble is my fault. -I’ve brought enough on the school to justify me in trying to save them -something. There’s another thing. This is the footer season, and -according to you I’m captain of footer. This is my job.” He smiled -disarmingly. “You can help too,” he added. “Go over to Seymour’s and -find Saville. Tell him what’s up, and see if he can’t get Carr reported -present until I can get him in.” He stood up. “There’s no time to waste. -It’s nearly nine now, and if Henry’s idea is right every minute’s of -value. Even if he’s back by now we may be able to stop him taking the -stuff to Coles. I’m going out. You get across and find Saville.” - -He moved to the door. - -“Aren’t you taking a coat,” said Terence, “or a hat? It’s precious -cold.” - -“I’ll go as I am. At this time of night it’s less conspicuous. And I can -get out by the pavilion—the way you and I used to go when we were kids.” - -He waited one moment, as if wondering if he had forgotten anything, then -he opened the door and went out. - -Terence turned to Henry and looked at him in queer anxiety. - -“You oughtn’t to have told him,” he said. “You ought to have told me -alone. You might have known he’d want to go out. He’s nearly worried to -death. He feels it’s his personal responsibility to Toby to make the -chaps hang together and stick it out till he can do something for us. -It’s getting on his nerves. All day long he’s moving amongst the chaps -telling them to keep their pecker up. He can hardly keep still. In the -face of news like this he was certain to go out and try to find the -shocking little ass.” - -Henry looked a trifle crestfallen. - -“I thought he ought to be told,” he said. - -“Yes, yes, I know,” retorted Terence. “But supposing he gets caught -himself? Supposing he’s seen?” - -Henry made a comforting grimace. - -“If I know Rouse as well as I think I do,” said he, “he isn’t the sort -of guy to go and get caught.” - -Terence slapped one hand into the other distressfully. - -“You don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s just the sort of guy -he _is_. He’s never made a plan since I knew him that ever went right.” - - * * * * * - -The Headmaster of Harley sat at his table, his elbows resting upon the -handsome blotting-pad that graced it, and in his hands he held, with a -curious, unnatural stiffness, a letter. His head was bowed a little, and -his attitude was so very still that one who came unawares upon him -sitting there might almost have thought that he had fallen asleep; but -presently he moved his head and looked up and around him with a quick -movement of uncertainty, as if the silence of that vast room were -oppressing him. And if one might then have seen his face and noticed the -setting of the deep lines upon it, one would have known the truth. Hard -Roe was beaten. - -The pages of history are crowded with the names of men whose rise to -eminence was aided by daily self-aggrandisement, but there is no record -of any one amongst them all whose besetting weakness did not sooner or -later compass his fall. - -If Hard Roe had ever properly understood this truth he had forgotten it -long before it would have been of most use to him to remember it. For -some few minutes he merely read the letter through and through, and at -last, when he knew the words by heart, he found himself wondering whose -influence lay behind it. He did not know the Governors of Harley well -enough to understand how much they were likely to know of things at the -school, and it never occurred to him at all that a man of Toby -Nicholson’s stamp could have any means of influence at their councils. -He was unaware how many parents might have lodged complaint against his -ruling, or what influential Old Harleyans had sided against him. These -were wheels within wheels which he could not understand. Now he was to -leave. His term of government ended with the coming of the holidays. -There was nothing in the letter that could properly offend. One might -almost have thought that the regrets which it expressed were real. But -there was nevertheless a coldness in its phrasing which succeeded -tolerably well in conveying a stern rebuke. That he understood. - -He braced his shoulders. - -His mouth took on again a natural grimness. - -He looked round the room over his spectacles with little jerky movements -of the head, seeing no single thing save pictures in his mind’s eye -portraying that phase of the future which was of the first importance to -his personal pride. - -In ten days term would be over. The probability was that the school -would never know this sequel to the long fight until he had really gone. -Rumours that he was not to stay might reach them during the holidays, -but not until they reassembled for the Easter term and found that they -had really triumphed would they be sure. His imagination presented him -with a mental vision of how things would be then, and in the forefront -of the picture he saw the boy who throughout the term had fought him, -gloating over his fall. The flood-tide of Rouse’s popularity would carry -him in wild idolatry to the top of the school. And Rouse would ascend, -laughing bombastically at the memory of the master who had challenged -his hold over the school and who had been defeated. He slowly shook his -head in grave unhappiness. Always there had been strong in him a deep -desire to make a reputation and to hold it throughout his life. He would -like, after he had gone, that all honest fellows in the school should -say of him that he delighted in every crisis to stand alone, that he had -always taken them by surprise, that he had never done what they had -counted upon him doing. - -Now he was defeated. The school would say of him instead that all his -life he had done wrong and that he had never been exposed till now. The -bubble that would be pricked would not be Rouse’s but his own. He -suddenly stood up. To be relieved of his post was not so terrible a blow -as was the certain knowledge that he would be remembered by the school -only as one who had been a three months’ wonder and who had failed. That -was more than he could bear. He looked round the room in sudden -petulance, and thought it stiff and unresponsive. The sober pictures and -the heavy curtains were glaring at him stupidly. He moved hesitantly -towards the door as if to escape from this environment. He wandered into -the passage, came to the old oak door and swung it upon its hinges. The -night air came round the corner, cooling his forehead with the touch of -an old friend. He knew then what he needed ... the friendly solitude of -the night. For perhaps the last time he would roam his provinces alone, -fighting the black depression that was slowly weighing him down. - -He came out on to the gravel path and looked up at Harley. Here and -there lighted windows, out of true keeping with the school’s proud -majesty, were winking at him as if in teasing. He turned across the -football ground. The night air did not seem very cold. Indeed it served -him rather well by clearing his troubled mind. So he was moving with -hands clasped under his gown, his square-built head sunken between his -shoulders, when his attention was suddenly distracted by a footstep upon -the pathway by the pavilion just in front of him. He stopped and looked -ahead, his chief hope an anxious one that he would not himself be -noticed wandering about so oddly on a winter’s night without his hat. -Only for one moment was he uncertain as to the identity of the young man -who was passing. Then clear recognition came to him. That young man was -Rouse. Funnily enough, he too was going his way without hat or overcoat, -and the Head stared in perplexity. Next he considered the time. - -His definite order had declared that no boy should be out of school -after seven o’clock. This was defiance. He moved along the grass in the -stealthy manner of a domestic cat. Rouse, engrossed upon his mission, -never even turned his head. At last he came to a narrow gate that led -into the roadway, and here he made a moment’s pause before he boldly -scrambled over and set off unhesitatingly towards the town. - -The Head had stopped to watch with eyes that were fixed and wide, and -now he stood rooted to the spot, still staring tensely in the direction -Rouse had taken. It was as though a star of hope had suddenly shone -through the darkness of the night. The curtain had risen upon a dramatic -scene that should prove the climax of the play. For ten days more he -would still be Headmaster of the school. They had not yet taken from him -the power to expel, and Rouse had played into his hands. Here was a way -to win. - -That sense of crushing defeat lifted from his shoulders as if by magic. -He turned. Decision had come to him. He began to step out towards the -school houses. He would go to Morley’s and ask for Rouse. At this hour -every boy in Harley should be in his study or in his cubicle. There -could be no conceivable excuse for Rouse. The whole of Morley’s should -know that the Headmaster had been to the house and had found him -missing. His sense of dramatic effect bounced around his heart. The -school should have little enough to laugh at in his own departure after -all. His wish might yet come true. It should not be by the folly of his -government but by the outstanding boldness of his last act that Harley -should ever afterwards remember him. Before he left the school Rouse -should be expelled. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - SECRET SERVICE - - -The fight was very nearly over. One man was covering up with evident -caution; his legs were almost giving way beneath him. The other was -Johnny Winter, and Johnny was standing away and waiting for his opening. - -They had said that he was too old. They had even thought it pathetically -sad that a man who, in his prime, had been unbeaten champion at his -weight, should be lured back to the ring after three years away from it -to fight again. Some had supposed it was the bombast of the man who was -at the top of the tree, and who claimed that not even Johnny Winter -could have defeated him, that had tempted the master boxer of his day -out of retirement. Others argued that the size of the purse that was up -for competition had had the most to do with it. And they had all agreed -that Johnny was foolish to have yielded to temptation. There was never a -boxer in all the world who, when his day was passed, came back to the -ring and fought again just as he had used to fight in his own hey-day. - -So they had said. But all his life Johnny had known himself better than -any of his friends had ever been allowed to know him, and he had -believed that he was not yet too completely old to win one last fight. -Now he had proved it. It was the fourteenth round and his man was done. -Already Johnny was sparring for his final opening. It came suddenly. The -other man uncovered and struck out with his right. In the twinkling of -an eye Johnny had slipped in and swung up his uppercut with deadly -accuracy. It landed with resounding force. The man reeled and fell. -There came ten seconds of excited wonder. Then he was out; and the air -was thunderous with a long crash of cheering for that quiet-mannered -little man with the wispy hair and the patient, deep-set eyes who had -undertaken to defend his name against a young man in the prime of life, -and had won. - -His seconds darted to Johnny’s side and lifted him up joyously in their -arms. From every seat near by men had risen on to their toes and were -reaching for his hand. Friends were elbowing their way towards him. In a -moment they had closed round and he was hidden from sight. They crowded -about him as he made for the gangway and went quickly through the -cheering crowd that was blocking the way. And all the while those who -were nearest to him could see that his expression never really altered. -From the first round to the last he had fought with a clean and modest -gallantry that was a natural part of him. Now that he had won he wanted -only to escape from all the inevitable lionising that so troubled him. -For a while he suffered them patiently, but he was longing to be allowed -to go to his bath in peace. He had done merely what he had set out to -do. Their praise was kindly meant, but he would be far happier alone. - -So at last they let him by and he went gratefully into the -dressing-room, said just a few quiet words to those old-timers who were -waiting there to tend him, and passed into privacy. - -When, therefore, a little boy came to the door of the dressing-room and -asked for him, they shook their heads. - -“Better go away, sonny. He won’t want to give no autograph. He just -don’t want to be fussed. He’s fought his fight. You let him have his -quiet sit-down. That’s worth more to Johnny than his picture rights.” - -The little boy looked round them gravely. - -“Would you just give him this?” he said at length. “I know he’ll see me. -He’ll be angry if you don’t tell him I’m here.” - -He waited a moment anxiously, holding the proffered envelope in his hand -with an air of appeal. At last a man with a square head, closely shaven, -and a perfect imitation of a cauliflower clinging to the side of it, -reached out his hand. - -“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s your name?” - -“If you’ll just give him that,” said the little boy, “he’ll know.” - -The man went slowly away, and when he came back his countenance wore an -expression of complete astonishment. - -“You’re to go in and see him,” he said resignedly. “And I’d like to know -who you be. It’s the first time he’s ever said ‘Yes.’” - -The little boy went quickly across the room and into the little cabin at -the farthermost end. Johnny Winter was sitting down, and as the little -boy came in, the man who had been tubbing his legs moved out of the way -and disappeared. Then Johnny swathed a dressing-gown about him and stood -up. He was frowning, and he spoke vexedly. - -“Bobbie,” he said, “if I had thought you would have done a thing like -this I would have made you promise. But I trusted you.” - -Bobbie Carr stood proudly and faced him. - -“I’ve never seen you fight in all my life,” said he. “I’ve never been -allowed. And this is the last chance I should ever have. You taught me -how to box, but you never let me see _you_ fight in earnest. Now I have -and I’m satisfied.” - -His father was looking at him with extraordinary sorrow. - -“You were always ashamed that I should see you fight. You said that I -should get wrong ideas. I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.” - -His father made a quick movement with his hand. - -“You’ve never understood. I’ve had to think for you. All my life I meant -you to go to a Public School and mix with the sons of gentlemen. I meant -you to have the chance to become what I have never been. I’ve saved and -worked for your education. I meant you to be a gentleman, and if the -boys at your school or the masters there ever knew that you were the son -of a bruiser—they’d call it a smudge on your name. That’s why I made you -promise. It had to be our secret. And so that no one that you mix with -should ever see you with me at the ringside, I’ve never let you come to -see me fight. I retired before you ever went to Harley to make quite -sure. But lately I’ve been afraid. I began to wonder if I had saved -enough, after all, to give you a fair chance. And then they offered this -purse, bigger than any I’d ever fought for in my life, if I’d come back. -I never imagined for a moment that you would come here to see me. I -thought you were safe at school. But you’ve come. You haven’t played the -game. The secret will be out. Somebody is bound to have seen you. You -would be very conspicuous in a Harley cap. When you go back to school -they’ll know. It’s what I’ve always been afraid of. They——” - -“I’m not going back,” said Bobbie quietly. - -His father stared at him with glassy eyes. - -“Not going back? Why? What’s happened? You haven’t been expelled?” - -“No. But I’m not going back to a place where I have to be ashamed of my -father.” - -Johnny took hold of his arm. - -“Who did you ask if you could come?” he demanded. “What reason did you -give? Does your Headmaster know that you came to see your father fight -for money?” - -“I didn’t ask,” said Bobbie. “I ran away.” - -There was a moment’s heavy silence. - -“You ran away?” his father said at last. “How? Who paid your fare?” - -“I did. You gave me much too much money. You thought I needed far more -than I did. I never spent half of it. I saved it up; and it brought me -here and paid for my seat.” - -His father was staring at him dully, but now his eyes lit up again with -sudden light. - -“Nobody knows?” he said. “Are you sure? If that’s true we can get you -back there to-night, perhaps, and they’ll never know you came. If nobody -has seen you here, perhaps——” - -“I’m not going back,” said Bobbie. - -His father’s eyes met his evenly. - -“You mean,” said he at last, “that you never want to be a gentleman? Is -it that the dearest wish I have means nothing to you at all?” - -“I’ll go to another school if you like,” said Bobbie in a small voice, -“but I can’t go back to Harley. There’s somebody there who knows. He -holds it over my head and makes me do things. It’s awful. I—I can’t go -back.” - -“Somebody knows?” His father was looking at him keenly. “Why have you -never told me? _Who_ knows?” - -“Coles is there.” - -For a moment his father was silent. He stood perfectly still, as a man -will who is suddenly stricken with ill news. And at last his hands moved -to his dressing-gown. - -“I’ll get dressed. We’ll get away from here. Sit down for a moment. Tell -me while I dress. What has he made you do?” - -Bobbie began to talk. The secrets came out one by one. - -“This afternoon,” said Bobbie, “I had to get him another bottle. And -when I’d got it I came away by the train at seven o’clock. I was seen -coming out. I can’t go back. If they’ve found out that I came up here I -shall be expelled. And if they haven’t found out, and I managed to get -in, then I shall have to go on doing whatever Coles tells me to.” He -paused. “Next term,” he said presently, “Coles expects to be captain of -boxing. How could I enjoy boxing with him as captain? Let me go to -another school, father. Somewhere where nobody need know at all if you -don’t want them to, but not to a place where I have to keep the secret -by being contemptible.” - -His father was dressed and he did not look at him at all. He just took -his arm and began to lead him out through the crowded room. Everywhere -men were calling to him. Johnny took no notice. He just made a gesture -of farewell and went out into the street with Bobbie. - -“There may be a means,” he said at last. “Perhaps I can think it out. -It’s a terrible thing to run away. You’ll have to go back. If none of -the masters know you came there may be a way to get you back. Who was it -saw you leave?” - -“It’s a boy who wouldn’t tell,” said Bobbie. “But I——” - -He stopped abruptly. A man had come upon them from behind, and now his -hand reached out and was resting upon Bobbie’s shoulder. - -Bobbie turned with a start, and as he looked up he knew the sudden shock -of a man ducked suddenly in cold water. For the first time since he had -left the school he felt the touch of guilt, not for his father, but -because by a freak of Fate it was Mr Nicholson who had found him out. -Toby it was who stood looking down at him. He knew as well as any boy -that it was through Toby’s influence that the fellows at Harley had been -persuaded to stick it out without making a cock-shy of the school. And -finding him unexpectedly at liberty in London, Toby would not understand -the truth. He would think that he, Bobbie Carr, had been the only boy in -Harley who had given in. - -There was a short dramatic silence. Then, as Bobbie looked up once -again, wondering whether he ought to speak or whether to leave this to -his father, he noticed a most remarkable fact—_i.e._ Toby was smiling. -What made this more remarkable was that he was smiling not at him but, -funnily enough, at that quiet-mannered little man, his father. And as -Bobbie watched he slowly held out his hand. - -“You won’t remember me properly,” he said, “but I haven’t forgotten you, -Johnny Winter.” - -Johnny had been looking from one to the other in acute distress, but now -a memory was suddenly awakened within him, and he took Toby’s hand and -looked and gently nodded his head. - -“Why, yes,” said he. “Yes, certainly I remember you. It’s Mr Nicholson. -You used to come in and box with us when we were training at Harrow, and -again at Brighton.” - -Toby tapped the little man upon the shoulder with an emphatic -forefinger. - -“I used to come in and box with you and those other fellows wherever and -whenever I could. You taught me more about boxing than any man of my -size I ever came up against. Do you remember——” He broke off. “My word, -that was a great show to-night, Johnny. I wouldn’t have missed that -fight for worlds. I want to congratulate you.” - -He stopped. Johnny was looking at him with quaint solemnity. Then the -thought of Bobbie seemed to recur to him, and as he turned to fix him -with a reproachful eye Johnny said: - -“This is my son.” - -Toby gave not the least sign of surprise. The closest observer could not -have told whether he had already guessed. His whole bearing was guided -by an affectionate appreciation of the reasons which had prompted Johnny -to speak so shyly. So he looked at Bobbie with a slow smile, and then -back again at the straight-backed little man whom they had thought too -old to fight. Johnny stood with his soft hat set squarely upon his head -in a way that spoke of quiet respectability. His solemn countenance was -a little anxious and one eye decidedly discoloured. - -“Then I am very, very glad,” said Toby, “more glad than I can say, that -you sent him to Harley.” - -“It was because I knew that it was _your_ old school,” said Johnny, with -a little nod of the head, “that I did send him there. And is it that you -are a master there yourself now?” - -“Until a few weeks ago I was games master there.” - -“Then you have left?” - -“I am on a little holiday.” - -A new light of hope came into the little man’s eyes. He was clearly -seeking for words. - -“I wonder,” he began, “if you could possibly help. My boy has come away -from school without permission. He came against my wishes and without my -knowledge to see me fight.” - -Bobbie looked up at Toby straightly. - -“It’s the last time he’ll ever fight, sir. I should never have had -another chance. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen him in the ring. And I -_had_ to come.” - -Toby began to nod his head absently. - -“Yes, of course,” he confessed, “you had to come. So should I have had -to if he had been my father. Only why didn’t you ask permission?” - -Johnny broke in quickly. - -“You don’t quite understand, of course,” said he, “but the Headmaster of -Harley knows me only as John Carr. It would be impossible to let it be -known that a boy at Harley was the son of a professional boxer. I—I -wanted to give him every possible chance in life. My one ambition is to -see him a gentleman. What chance would he have if he were held down -always by the shame of my trade?” - -“What shame?” demanded Toby. - -Johnny made a deprecating gesture. - -“You understand,” said he, “one does not meet professional pugilists in -the homes of gentlemen, except as curiosities.” - -Toby looked at him inscrutably. - -“My son has run away. Unless I can get him back there will, of course, -be an inquiry, and I shall need to come forward. The papers will sooner -or later get wind of it and the facts will come out. When once it is -known that a bruiser sent his son to a Public School and that he ran -away, I shall never be able to get him into another school in England, -except as a notoriety. Is there any means at all by which you could help -me to get him back?” - -“I’m not going back,” interrupted Bobbie, with sudden emphasis. - -They turned to look at him. - -“Why not?” said Toby, in astonishment. - -The boy was silent, but Johnny spoke up. - -“You must tell him, Bobbie,” said he. “If we want help from Mr Nicholson -we must tell him everything. There’s a young fellow at the school, Mr -Nicholson, who happens to know the secret that we’ve tried to keep, and -by threatening to tell it he has made Bobbie do things that he shouldn’t -have. No doubt this fellow will guess that the boy came up to see me -fight, and even if we should get him safely back to-night perhaps he -will say now that unless Bobbie does this or that for him he will report -his absence to the Headmaster.” - -Toby was looking from one to the other thoughtfully. - -“How did this boy come to know you at all then, Johnny?” - -For a moment the little man hesitated. At last he began to explain. - -“His father had money. There was a time when he acted as my backer, and -as I won my fights he made a very good profit. Then he came to me one -day and proposed a put-up job. He wanted me to fight a man and lose. It -was to sway the betting to his advantage. But I told him what I thought -of him and he never backed me again. I didn’t care for him to. This son, -from what I know, will be much the same as the father, and _he_ knows -well enough my history.” - -“His name would be Coles,” said Toby. - -The little man looked at him in surprise. - -“You know him?” - -“Very well indeed,” said Toby. “Strangely well.” - -There came an interval of silence. Toby appeared to be considering. At -last he looked up. - -“You are the father of a boy at Harley, Mr Carr,” said he. “Do you know -all that has been happening there this term?” - -“Bobbie has told me,” said the little man. “I am very sorry.” - -Toby nodded his head. - -“The storm is nearly over, and now there is next term to consider. I am -not sure how much Harley’s reputation as a sporting school will have -suffered by the events of the present term, but the probability is that -an impression will spread that we shall take some little time to find -our feet again. Not much will be expected of us at Aldershot, for -example. It will be known that our professional was sent away. Yet it -will be at Aldershot that we shall have to retrieve our good name. To -recommence football and try to catch up next term would be unwise. We -never do play football in the Easter term, nor do many of the other -schools we play, and in any case we should be a term behind everybody -else in combination. It will be better to let this stand as a lean year -at football, and instead we must send such a team to Aldershot as has -never been turned out by any Public School before. All the enthusiasm -that has been stored up this term must be called out. We must go boxing -mad and sweep the board. If any critics think that a term’s ill fortune -can hold us down we shall show them that they are mistaken. This will be -possible because the Headmaster who ruined our football season is not -coming back.” - -He paused. The father and the son were peering at him intently. A look -had come over Toby’s countenance which would have told those who knew -him best that he was following a particular train of thought and that he -had led up to the crucial point. - -“Do you want your boy to go back to Harley to-night, and box for the -school in the biggest year in their history next term, Mr Carr?” - -Johnny turned slowly and looked at Bobbie, then back at Toby. - -“For the last five years I have been counting the days to the time when -my boy would box for a Public School at Aldershot,” said he. - -Toby smiled. He took a step forward and laid his hand on Johnny’s -shoulder. - -“Coles is expecting to be captain of boxing next term,” said he. “What -do you say to that?” - -For a moment Johnny said nothing. At last he looked up. - -“I can hardly imagine a worse boy in the school to be a captain than Mr -Coles’ son,” said he, “and if there is anybody else——” - -“There has got to be somebody else,” said Toby. “If we let Coles be -captain we might as well chuck up the sponge. And there is somebody -else.” - -“Then,” asked Johnny reasonably enough, “why will they not elect him -captain?” - -“Because he cannot box.” - -There was a brief silence. At last Toby drew a deep breath. - -“I am going to get a car and take your boy back to Harley,” said he. - -“Will you be able to get him in?” - -“If he has not been reported absent by the time I get back,” said Toby, -“I will get him in. It is a service for Harley. We need him to box in -the feathers for the school next term. And here is the bargain. If I get -him in, will you in return do something yourself for Harley, a secret -service of your own?” - -“What is it?” asked Johnny. - -“If I introduce you to a boy in the holidays, Johnny Winter, will you -teach him to box, and to box well enough to justify the school in -electing him captain of boxing next term?” - -Johnny looked dubious. - -“In three weeks?” - -“You are a man who could do it,” said Toby. “And you see what it means. -If Coles is elected captain Harley is doomed. If this fellow can keep -him out the whole school will follow him, and there will be such a wave -of enthusiasm for boxing that we shall knock all the other schools -sideways at Aldershot.” - -The little man slowly shook his head. - -“He would want to pay me,” said he. “He wouldn’t understand. The whole -school would know that Bobbie’s father was a pug.” - -Toby made an almost angry gesture. - -“When Rouse understands that you are the father of a boy at Harley,” -said he, “he will understand the honour that you will be doing him.” - -The little man stood looking into the distance. Toby spoke again. - -“The time’s getting short. I’m going to take Bobbie back. You get along -home to bed. You must be tired. Will you meet me in town to-morrow, and -I shall be able to give you news of your boy?” - -Bobbie looked from one to the other quizzically. The question of his -return to Harley seemed to have been decided for him. There was little -to be gained by saying again that he would not go back. Besides, it -would be different now. The Old Boy who had been on secret service for -Harley would be watching over his interests. That inconvenient secret -was not now entirely his own. He would not need to worry about his -father’s name. If all went well, his father would save Harley from -Coles, and Harley would understand when Coles told the secret what great -work his father had done. - -He looked up. Toby and his father were shaking hands in the ponderous -manner of two men making a solemn compact, and the troubled doubting on -his father’s face was passing into a sober, trusting smile as Toby spoke -to him. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - HARD ROE - - -Hard Roe had become a changed man. In a single crowded minute he had -thrown up the part of Napoleon Defeated which for a short while he had -acted with very tolerable ability, and had assumed instead the character -of a criminal barrister making his way to the Law Courts with secret and -sensational evidence up his sleeve. His gown was ballooning proudly -behind him, the tails of it kept aloft by the pace at which he moved. -His hands were no longer gripping one at the other behind his back. -Instead his arms were swinging vigorously from the shoulders as if to -assist in propelling him to Morley’s before Rouse could return. His lips -were parted, and such hair as he had was rustling upon his head like -meadow grass before the breaking of a storm. - -The bee-line which he was making took him, first, past the Rugby -posts—mere symbols of a departed game—and here he struck the broad -pathway along the outskirts of the playing fields. Where the way -branched into two he came to Seymour’s, and he would have passed that -tall house at his best speed, cutting the night air like a land yacht, -had not a sudden clamour of excited voices, raised in consummate -confusion, floated down to him from an upstairs window and distracted -his attention. So he stopped and he looked and he listened. - -The bright light in a window immediately above him, evidently that of a -study, indicated without doubt the source of the commotion. For a little -while he stood, his head thrown back, peering curiously towards it. -There was no law against a light in a senior’s study at nine o’clock, -but there could be no excuse for such disorder as was evidenced by those -so wildly contesting voices. - -At last he made up his mind. Enthusiasm prompted him to hasten upon his -way, but allegiance to the dogma of unexpectedness was too strong. He -glanced round him once, then fixed the front door with protuberant eyes, -lifted the latch and went in. If Mr Seymour was out visiting some -colleague, the occasion called for action on his own part. It might well -be that this most memorable evening would grant him an all-round victory -over the school on points. - -He could not have chosen a more sensational moment to appear. - -As he reached the bottom of the stairs a young man came dancing down. It -may be that those who had been watching and who would have followed had -peeped over the banisters in time and had withdrawn to make good their -escape, but this one young man was in that condition in which loneliness -is as nothing. He was singing raucously, and his manner of descent was -like that of a low comedian on a sliding staircase. His hair was tangled -and his countenance was flushed to fever heat. - -The Head had drawn back as if in preparation for a suitably sudden -appearance from the wings, but instead he slowly drew himself now to his -full height. As if at one touch of a magic wand Hard Roe suddenly ceased -to look merely a silly old man. He was transformed into a lonely monarch -in a terrible predicament. His rather grim face suddenly aged to that of -a man who has faced all weathers and seen all things. The look that came -into his eyes whilst he watched was not now merely one of anger or -contempt; all thoughts had fled from his mind and left him cold and -stricken, and his stare was testimony to the power of unexpectedness. - -The young man was his son. - - -Time passed on leaden wings. - -His son had stumbled once on the bottom stair and had swung forward -towards the wall. As he righted himself Hard Roe moved out of the -shadows to meet him, and they came face to face. At first the young man -did not seem to comprehend the grim reality of it. He just stood swaying -upon his heels and smiling at the old man kindly. Next he broke into -cackling laughter. - -“I can’t help it,” he confessed. “I’m—I’m drunk.” - -Hard Roe threw out his hand and clutched him by the shoulder. - -“Stand up! You are _my son_.” - -Roe made a belated attempt to look apologetic. - -The Head laid his other hand alongside the first and shook him savagely. - -“Where have you been? Why are you like this?” - -He was speaking through clenched teeth and his arms were trembling with -the force of his passion. But there came only an unresponsive silence. -If there is one particular phase of drunkenness at which one may best -appreciate the beastliness of it, then it is at that moment when one -perceives the subject looking around him as if in search of a convenient -spot in which to be sick. - -The Head removed his hands and they fell weightily to his sides. He -began to jerk words incredulously at his son, as if his power of speech -was somehow dislocated. - -“You understand—you understand. You are the Headmaster’s son. You are -captain of football. You came as an _example to them_. I——” - -His passion slowly subsided. He began to grow hard and isolated, -impregnable. Once he heard a hurried scuffling upstairs as if someone -were hiding away all traces of carousal and vanishing quickly from the -scene. Now the whole house was very still. He had an implicit belief -that even if the banisters were not lined with the heads of inquisitive -boys, at least every member of the house was listening at an open door, -and he knew that they would be wondering what Hard Roe would do at this, -the crisis of his life. He knew that he must not hesitate. He gave his -son a final shaking. - -“Have you no explanation at all?” he begged. “Have you nothing whatever -to say to me?” - -The boy could find no proper answer. His eyes were closing sleepily. He -had propped himself against the banisters. The final exhilaration that -had sent him downstairs in that eccentric dance had deserted him, and a -feeling of giddy biliousness had come in its place. He shook his head -with a comical slantwise motion. - -Above the many conflicting emotions in his mind now the Head remembered -his reputation. Throughout his life, whenever he had been in doubt, -facing two roads, he had taken always that way which he felt he would -not be expected to take. Now the unexpected had, in its turn, come upon -him with a rush. Once again two ways lay open to him, and he knew now -that the way which would be the unexpected way would be a way that was -terribly hard, albeit absolutely just. - -He suddenly tilted up his chin. A glare of dour pugnacity had settled -upon his features as if in token of decision. Then at last he spoke, and -his voice was resolute and even. - -“There is one law in this school, and I show no favour. It was you that -I brought here as an example to a school which knew no discipline. Now -it is as an example that I shall have to send you away. You are -expelled. To-morrow you leave this school in disgrace.” - -He stopped. - -In all the house there was not one solitary creak. The silence was -absolutely cold and merciless. And then at last a footstep sounded in -the portico. Mr Seymour was coming in. The Head turned and looked at him -with a lofty dignity. It was as if he wanted the position to be -perfectly clear to the other before he spoke. Then when Mr Seymour had -looked dazedly first at the boy and then at the Head, Hard Roe spoke up. - -“Please have this boy taken to bed at once,” he said gently. “I have -expelled him. To-morrow he will leave the school.” - -He moved to the open door and, reaching it, passed out, whilst Mr -Seymour still stood looking fixedly at the boy as if he could not -believe his eyes. - -He went out into the dark with his head a little bowed and his hands -tight clasped again behind his gown. So he made his way slowly back -towards the distant school, and now the night seemed very chill. There -was no longer any attraction in seeking Rouse. Rouse was saved. Hard -Roe’s part at Harley was played. The last act was done. - -It might very well have ended in his son leaving with him, proudly and -almost in disdain. That could not be now. Had he allowed his boy to stay -on to the end of term and then to leave quietly whilst he expelled -Rouse, the name of Roe would have stood for ever in disrepute. It was -his duty to do all in his power to save that name. However keenly the -school disliked his character, they would know now that he had at least -been true to it at the crisis of his life. His prophecy would perhaps -come true. - -It might, after all, be the outstanding boldness of his last act by -which the school would ever afterwards remember him. He had very nearly -forgotten how badly he had wanted that to be so a short while back. - - * * * * * - -At last the Head passed through the old oak door again and back into his -own room. Then it was as though the veil of night fell gently over the -confines of the school. Here and there, in the haunts of the privileged, -lights still glittered for an hour or so, showing that some were still -up and about in Harley; but in the houses and the body of the school -they vanished one by one, as if the gusty wind were scurrying on its -rounds and looking in at windows to blow them out. - -A full hour passed before the figure of one who was weary and -inordinately cold appeared with decided caution at the little gate -beside the school pavilion and, climbing over, began to trudge -disappointedly along the line of trees right round the outskirts of the -playing fields towards Morley’s. It was Rouse, and he had both hands -rammed into his trouser pockets and the collar of his coat turned up -around his neck. There was an atmosphere about the school that was -unusually lonely, and he felt it. His errand had proved utterly -fruitless. He had no particular idea how he was going to get in again. -He missed the company of Terence. His intention to keep in the shadows -was taking him a long way round and he was in no mood to enjoy the walk. -Altogether things were rotten. At last he came to Morley’s and stopped -to look up for a moment at the forbidding walls. Then he moved with a -kind of ill-humoured curiosity to the hall window. There came back to -him the memory of a night of long ago when he and Terence had as -youngsters crouched below that selfsame window to find themselves locked -out, and how at last a small boy had tiptoed down the stairs to their -rescue, had opened the window without a word and let them in, and had -then gone peaceably to bed. That small boy had been Henry Hope. - -Rouse gazed at the window now with the affection of an old friend. -Terence must surely have made some plan to effect his entry without his -having to ring the front-door bell. His hand reached out and passed -cautiously across the window-pane. Then he seized the framework and -tried it gingerly. Without a moment’s delay there came the sound of a -gentle movement within, and he perceived a long arm reaching towards him -behind the glass. Next the window was slowly raised and a tousled head -of hair was thrust out into the night. Rouse raised himself on to his -toes and inclined his body forward. - -It was Terence, and he spoke in a hoarse whisper. - -“Don’t make too much row. Has anybody seen you? Have you had any luck?” - -Rouse levered himself on to the window-sill and poised there miserably -for a moment before he answered, and even then he did not speak. He just -shook his head dismally and scrambled in. And then he sneezed. - -Terence seized him in a steely grip and thrust a handkerchief violently -into his face. But Rouse freed himself vexedly, listened a moment for -any sign of alarm, and then proceeded, in the time-honoured manner of -all who keep late hours, to remove his boots. - -He turned once before beginning to climb the staircase and looked -thoughtfully through the darkness at the shape that was Terence. - -“You have not,” said he softly, “such a thing as a hot drink concealed -about your person, I presume?” - -Terence slowly lowered the window and secured it with the latch. When he -turned he shook his head regretfully. - -“Thank you,” whispered Rouse. “That’s all I wanted to know.” - -Next moment he was making his way nimbly upstairs. Terence looked round -him once, then followed after. The warmth of a bed had become a -strangely appealing thought. - - * * * * * - -For two hours Harley had slumbered. The last good-nights had all been -said. The last lights had been snuffed. Only the great clock over the -school, vigilantly marking time like the ghost of some soldier of the -king, was still awake and looking far out into the country, when a car -came droning down the highroad, branched along the fork that led past -the playing fields and stopped beside the school pavilion. There was a -moment’s muttered conversation, then out of the car stepped Toby -Nicholson. He turned once to the small figure wrapped in rugs that was -still reclining in a corner. - -“You understand?” he said. “Wait here till I’ve spied out the lie of the -land. Then I’ll come back and fetch you. I may be some little time, but -you must wait.” - -Bobbie nodded his head obediently, and Toby turned and scrambled over -the narrow gate into the school grounds. Off he set along the line of -the trees, stepping, had he but known it, almost in the very footprints -that Rouse had left in his tracks. He went swiftly, and at times, with a -furtive glance around him, he left the shadows and slipped across the -open to cut a corner. At last he came to Seymour’s and here he stopped, -just as Rouse had stopped at Morley’s, and glanced up at the windows. -Everywhere the blinds were drawn. There was not one solitary light. He -had expected as much, and now he had to come swiftly to a decision. By -hook or by crook he intended to get into the house and rouse Mr Seymour. -There were several ways and means. He could ring the bell or batter upon -the door with his clenched fists until he was answered. He could throw -stones at windows. These methods would, however, necessarily excite -undue commotion, and this Toby determined to avoid. Since nothing much -could be accomplished before morning by those within, there existed the -alternative, of course, of camping out under the trees until the first -greyness of the dawn broke through the night, and surreptitiously -slipping Bobbie into the house at the first opening of the door, if -necessary with the connivance of a servant. On a winter’s night this -solution was, however, emphatically inconvenient. There remained, -therefore, the only really sound means of entry, that of the break-in. -Without any great hesitation Toby decided upon this latter. He had once -committed a burglary for the benefit of the cinema, and he saw no valid -reason why he should not break into Mr Seymour’s bedroom for the benefit -of the school. He cast an inquisitive eye at the window behind which Mr -Seymour would be sleeping, and considered the question of the ascent. Mr -Seymour was a quiet, rather faded gentleman who affected a hat-guard all -the year round and who looked upon school life from the scholarly rather -than the magisterial standpoint. Above all, he hated to be bothered. - -Somewhere within him Toby cherished a distinct affection for this -old-fashioned gentleman, and he was aware that this was reciprocated. To -how great an extent, however, this esteem would be affected by his -entering the gentleman’s room by the window at one A.M. he did not care -to surmise. He made a brief inspection, then secured a firm hold on the -drain-pipe, collected a bunch of ivy in the other hand, and commenced to -climb. At first his progress was slow. By skilful work he nevertheless -rose foot by foot until he at last reached a window on the first floor -parallel with Mr Seymour’s own. He swung on to this window-ledge and -gravely considered the prospect of his being able to move sideways -across the face of the wall. So far as he could see there was only one -practicable route. He must climb to the story next above, make use of -the attic window-ledge, and swing from here to the window immediately -above his destination. From here he could drop from his hands and land -neatly and daintily, like the falling petal of a flower, upon Mr -Seymour’s window-sill. This he did with delightful grace. - -Five minutes later the blade of his pocket-knife was moving gently -between the upper and lower halves of the window, and after a moment’s -work he had pushed the catch carefully aside. He paused then for a -moment, like the look-out in the crow’s nest of a ship, to gaze down and -take in the surrounding view. For the first time in his life he was -clinging to the wall of a house in the loneliest hour of the night and -about to break into a gentleman’s apartment. He sighed happily as a man -will who delights in new experiences, turned inwards and slowly raised -the lower half of the window. Then he stepped into the room and sat down -on the inner window-ledge. The blast of cold air which his entry had -introduced had an almost immediate effect in a noise of pronounced -discontent from the recesses of the room. As his eyes grew used to the -dark he dimly perceived a long arm reaching a bunch of blanket and -drawing it gratefully about the pillow. Toby collected himself for -discovery. The terrifying thought flashed through his mind that he might -possibly have come to the wrong room. Supposing that by some freak of -Fate Mr Seymour chanced to have changed his quarters during the last few -days? He cast a hurried glance at his only means of escape, then steeled -himself for the worst and spoke: - -“Mr Seymour.” - -At first there was no reply. It was difficult to know, however, whether -this was because Mr Seymour was not yet awake or whether he was -endeavouring to decide what to say in reply. At last Toby repeated his -salutation. - -Mr Seymour woke in a sudden convulsion of uncertainty, shuddered a great -many times, and spoke. - -“What?” said he. “Oh, please—for goodness’ sake do shut that door.” - -Toby considerately closed the window. - -“May I switch on the light?” he inquired. “Shall I fall over anything?” - -“Whatever is it?” sighed Mr Seymour. “Put on the light, yes. Really, I—— -Who is it wants me? I——” - -Toby stumbled across the room, cannoned violently into the bed and, -reaching the switch, at last flooded the room with light. As he did so -he explained himself briefly: - -“It’s me—Nicholson.” - -Mr Seymour peered at him dazedly. - -“Nicholson? Why, yes, I see it is. But how very odd. Do you know, I -_quite_ thought you’d gone away. Quite. I must have been dreaming. How -very strange.” - -Toby approached and sat down pleasantly on the bed. - -“I did go away,” he confessed. “But you know how a felon always returns -to the scene of his crime. As a matter of fact, I have just come in -through the window.” - -He paused a moment as if to allow this information to sink well in. Mr -Seymour took the news oddly. He just sat up in bed and looked as if he -were about to weep. - -“What time is it?” he demanded. “Dear me, how troublesome a night! It -seems only a few minutes ago that I was having a boy put to bed. -Whatever is it now?” - -Toby leaned over him. - -“Were all your boys present to-night?” he inquired. “Was anybody -reported missing?” - -The other grew visibly perplexed. - -“Really, I can hardly say. So much has been happening to-night. No doubt -you have not yet heard——” - -Toby waved the point aside. - -“I may have done you a good turn. I hope so, anyway. One of the -youngsters in your house has been bullied into getting whisky for -someone amongst your seniors, and at last he’s kicked. So this evening -he ran away.” - -“Good gracious me!” exclaimed the other, “who’s run away? Why, only this -evening I have had——” - -“Fortunately,” said Toby, pressing on hastily, “I came across him myself -and I have been able to lead him back to the fold. It may be in time for -you to take this matter of the whisky in hand yourself before anything -comes out about it.” - -Mr Seymour rose a little farther out of his bed and pointed at Toby -excitedly. He was suddenly very wide awake. - -“You say this boy ran away? I am not surprised. This evening a boy was -found in this house drunk, and he was expelled.” - -“Expelled?” repeated Toby, cocking one eyebrow in surprise. “By the -Head, do you mean?” - -“Yes.” - -“Who was the boy?” - -“It was his own son,” said Mr Seymour, and drawing himself completely -out of bed he began to feel for his slippers. Suddenly he looked up with -a jerk. - -Toby was still staring at him thoughtfully. - -“He found his own son drunk?” - -“Yes.” - -“And nobody else?” - -“Apparently not,” said Mr Seymour. He stood up. “Nicholson,” he -demanded, “who is this boy? And,” he added, “how on earth did you get -into this house?” - -“His name is Carr,” said Toby. “And I came in via the window. I crawled -up the wall.” - -Mr Seymour approached the window, looked at it incredulously, then -opened the lower half and peered out. - -“It is a nasty drop,” he declared. - -Toby moved to the window and stood beside him. - -“Yes,” said he. “It looks worse from here. Nevertheless that is how I -got in. Those pieces of cloth you see there hanging on nails amongst the -ivy are pieces of my trousers. In other words, you have been burgled.” - -“But why on earth didn’t you ring the bell?” - -Toby tapped him upon the shoulder. - -“The boy who ran away is outside in a car. I thought you would rather we -got him in without attracting attention.” - -“But, goodness me,” said the other, “a number of boys in the house will -know that he was out. What will be the excuse?” - -“The other boys in the house,” said Toby, “know a great deal more about -what’s been going on than you do. You can bet your life on that. And -after this evening’s little entertainment there won’t be many who won’t -understand the truth. My advice to you is to let him come in and go to -bed without a word. You yourself need know nothing about it.” - -Mr Seymour was looking at him dubiously. - -“The reason I say this,” Toby explained, “is that it means a lot to the -school if we can come through this term without the spirit having been -knocked out of any single boy by the Head’s idea of justice. It won’t be -quite so satisfactory if this youngster should be found out. It’s the -last lap, too, Seymour. In another ten days term will be over.” - -He paused. - -“There will be another term following after,” said Mr Seymour gloomily. - -Toby nodded his head. - -“Yes,” he admitted; “but it will not be quite the same. Next term the -Grey Man is coming back.” - -He smiled. Mr Seymour gazed at him with open mouth. - -“Are you sure?” - -“I saw him yesterday,” said Toby. “But it is better that the school as a -whole should not know just yet. If one thing rather than another would -send Harley completely off its head just now it would be the rumour that -the Headmaster was defeated and that the Grey Man was coming back. Well, -we must play fair. There is something about the Head that at times makes -him almost likeable in his loneliness. Now the only ally that he had has -let him down and the Head’s done the right thing by expelling him. There -will be hard days coming for the Head, and, after all, you and I are -masters and have a master’s point of view. I fancy the Head knows his -fate already, but I think that we ought to respect his position to the -end. It’s up to us to let him break the news when he feels ready. Don’t -you think so?” - -Mr Seymour nodded his head. - -“It makes a difference,” said he. “I had always rather looked upon you -as an Old Boy pure and simple, Nicholson. But I see now that there is a -little of something else in your composition as well. If you will go out -and fetch this boy I will see that he gets in by the front door.” - -Toby held out his hand. - -“I hope you’ll forgive me getting in by the window,” he said. “It was -the only way. I’ll go out by the door now, though, and leave it unbolted -for Carr. I shall see you again soon.” - -“You will be coming back?” - -“I am starting again next term,” said Toby. “See you then.” - - * * * * * - -With morning sensation came like a dust-storm to sweep Harley in its -whirl and leave her spinning. The whole of Roe’s own house, of course, -knew overnight. Those who had been asleep were violently awakened to be -told. And in the morning the members of Seymour’s spread out fanwise and -ran through the other houses before their breakfast, carrying the news. - -At morning prayers there was some kind of hope that the Head would make -an announcement revoking his selection of a football captain, and -perhaps even acknowledging the claims of Rouse, but instead he came in -without an indication of any kind that anything was untoward and faced -them. His eyes roamed round the sea of their upturned faces. He noticed -Rouse in the forefront, but Rouse did not look his way. Next his eyes -turned upon the rebels of the Sixth lined up beneath his dais, each in a -most devout and learned attitude, and finally he turned to Pointon and -jerked his head at him. So Pointon’s voice broke the silence at last as -he began to read. - -When, later, the moment came for the Head to walk down the aisle between -them, his gown majestically swinging, and to pass through the open doors -before their shuffling dismissal to their classes could begin, he walked -with a quick and irritable step, and it was not until he had reached the -quiet of his own room that he remembered one saving thought in his -bitter sorrow. They did not yet know that he himself would, at the end -of term, leave them in triumphant possession of their own unwritten -laws. - -One master and one boy were, as we know, in the secret, but the boy had -honourably promised not to speak of it to anyone in the school, not even -to Rouse or Terence or Henry Hope. - -“It is not your secret,” Toby had said. “You have stumbled upon it, and -so it is not yours to tell.” - -In Seymour’s they had looked at Bobbie curiously in the morning, and a -great many boys of his own age had gathered about him to satisfy their -curiosity by asking questions. But he had smiled at them and shaken his -head. - -“I went out for someone and I was late back,” was all he would say; “but -I got in all right.” - -For the rest, he let their imagination carry them where it would. Rouse -came upon him and he too would have begun to question, but Bobbie gave -him a note from Toby and this appeared to afford him wholesome -satisfaction. - -For a little while those who knew that Roe had found a friend in Coles -wondered what part he had played in Roe’s downfall, and indeed curiosity -as to which other boys from somewhere behind the scenes had really been -responsible for his own son’s defection troubled the Head himself; but -the awe in which he held his father effectually prevented Roe from -turning King’s evidence. He went quietly, with abashed mien, intensely -annoyed with his father for ever having fetched him from Wilton to -become a puppet at Harley. Afterwards Hard Roe seemed almost to forget -the incident, for he asked no questions of anybody in the school. It may -well be that in certain respects his sense of pride was satisfied by the -certainty that his iron justice would live in the memory of the boys he -would leave at Harley long after he had gone, and that for this reason -he preferred to leave things entirely as they were. By digging deeper -into the mystery and dragging to light whatever other miscreants there -were in Seymour’s he would seem to be finding excuses for his son by -sweeping away a handful of other boys as bad as he on the grounds that -they had led him astray, when his one expulsion would have all the -effect that was necessary in curing the evil by making an example of the -chief wrong-doer. - -He had a distaste for excuses of any kind. His son should have been -strong enough to stand alone. Instead he had sinned, and he could not -pardon his son for drinking whisky on the grounds that another boy had -given it to him. - -Coles lived in considerable anxiety during those last long days, because -he was unaware of the Head’s real attitude and quite uncertain whether, -before he left, Roe had given him away. - -He had Bobbie before him and extracted an oath of secrecy. - -“If you breathe so much as a word of this,” he had said, “I’ll tell your -secret too, and all the school shall know that a low professional pug -has sent his brat to a school for the sons of gentlemen. Not only that. -If you let me down I’ll see that your life here is a never-ending -nightmare. Are you going to promise?” - -“I don’t see any need to promise,” said Bobbie, “but I’ll do so if you -like.” - -Coles shook his fist angrily. - -“I shall hold you to it,” he declared. “One word, and you’ll wish you’d -been born dumb.” - -Bobbie turned and left him. After all, there was nobody he would need to -tell—now. - -The last few days of term passed slowly. The most sensational thing that -could have come about had happened. That which followed was only -aftermath. To the last day they did not know how completely they had won -the long fight, nor guess that when Hard Roe stood in the great hall and -spoke to them of their Christmas holidays in a quiet and unemotional -voice he was in reality bidding them good-bye. - -He had not altogether the bearing of a man who had failed. It was rather -that of a man who knew that he would leave his mark. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - THE DAY OF RECKONING - - -It was the first afternoon of the Easter term, and from his position -beside the window of his study Rouse was staring steadfastly towards the -distant boundaries of Harley. Presently he turned and looked towards -Terence, who sat buried to the chin in a basket chair, with his feet -upon the mantelpiece. - -“I find myself to-day,” said he, “in a mood of the most blissful -content. You, sir, can you tell me why that is?” - -“No,” said Terence. “Unless somebody has mended that hole in your -trouser pocket for you during the holidays and your locker key doesn’t -fall through into your sock any longer. That used to irritate you a good -deal last term, I remember.” - -“That is not the correct answer,” responded Rouse. “And you will, -moreover, be awarded one bad mark for your stupidity. If you are going -to have another shot, I think you had better stand half-way, with the -ladies and the little boys.” - -Terence turned away and snuggled deeper into the recesses of his chair. - -“It leaves me cold,” said he. - -“Then I will speak with more warmth,” snapped Rouse, “you poor frozen -piece of fish. Let me tell you that you are what our American cousins -would term a boob or bone-head. If you were to unhook your heels from my -mantelpiece and come and balance yourself beside me for a minute, you -would perhaps understand what I mean. Just now the Grey Man passed along -the top road going towards Mainwright’s. When he had gone I found myself -casting my eye around the old estate, and I may assure you, young -Nicholson, the place did not seem the same.” - -“You were looking at it from a different angle,” explained Terence. -“It’s that squint of yours. You never know _where_ you’re looking half -the time.” A brief silence followed. At last Rouse came over to the fire -and, standing beside Terence, placed his hands on his hips and began to -explain. - -“The Grey Man has come back and the good sun is shining once more over -the old homeside. That’s what I mean, you flat,” said he. “When I look -back,” he added after a moment, “it seems to me that two things stand -out from amongst the events of last term. Passing over those bad times -when we heard that Toby was to go and that house footer was to stop, and -such good times as the Rainhurst match, the two things that I always -remember first are the moment when I first knew that I was not to be -captain of Rugger, and the moment when I realised that Coles was giving -me a licking.” - -“It is of some interest to me to know,” said Terence, “that you are -actually able to think of two things at once. I was not previously aware -that you could.” - -Rouse took no notice. - -“The fact that I am responsible for the dud year Harley has had at -Rugger,” said he, “worried me a good deal until I had a chow-chow with -your brother, and then I began to look forward to this term as I have -never looked forward to any term before. Now I am really back again, and -the Grey Man has returned. I tell you, Nick, my son, I feel good. In -other words, I am chock full of beans.” - -“That must be what I heard rattling about inside your head just now,” -answered Terence, “though it sounded to me more like dried peas.” - -“The days which I have spent with Mr Carr have been some of the happiest -of my life,” insisted Rouse, “and they have done me such a power of good -that I am half inclined to catch you a severe clip on the head in -token.” - -Terence rose and stretched himself. - -“Mr Carr,” said he, “is a white man. What do you make the time? I’ve an -idea we ought to be getting down to the meeting.” - -Rouse consulted his watch, moved to the window and looked out. - -“Yes,” said he, “they’re beginning to show up. Foster and Pointon are -coming down the road and Smythe is just going by. Give me your hand and -we will tag along.” - -As they left the house and started across towards the hall where the -general meeting was to be held Rouse became peculiarly quiet. Once -Terence turned to him and noted the brightness of his eyes, and Rouse -looked up and spoke. - -“I wish I hadn’t talked so much about my blissful content,” he observed. -“I’m beginning to feel a bit different. It’s perfectly true that nobody -who knows Coles wants him to be captain of boxing, and it would be a -jolly good lesson to him if he missed it, particularly during a term -when we’re going all out to smash the record, but it isn’t everybody who -does know Coles.” - -“Well?” - -“And,” demanded Rouse, “why should they want _me_ anyhow? I’m not the -only fellow in the school who goes in for games. I had my innings last -term, and I played it about as cleverly as a fellow who goes into a -nursery to amuse a kid and promptly treads on his balloon. If anybody -_does_ mention my name at the meeting as a possible captain, the -probability is that chaps will get up one by one and go out groaning. I -should say that most of the fellows are sick to death of my name. That’s -how I feel about it anyway.” - -“You feel like that about it,” said Terence gently, “because you’re -batty. It isn’t your fault. We must learn not to laugh at you for it. -You just can’t help it. You’re batty, that’s all.” - -“Not at all. I was as keen as mustard to learn to box, especially from a -man like Mr Carr, but I’d just as soon box for the school like an -ordinary chap as be stuck on top and made captain.” - -“They want you as captain,” said Terence, “because the whole school will -follow you and do whatever you say, and they want the whole school to go -boxing mad. It may interest you to know that I intend to don the gloves -and clout a few people myself in due course.” - -Rouse shook his head. - -“Everybody who’s spoken to me,” concluded Terence, “everybody who _is_ -anybody——” - -“Nobody’s anybody very much,” observed Rouse, “after they’ve once been -seen speaking to you.” - -“Everybody who is anybody,” repeated the other indifferently, “has been -enthusiastic about it beyond all expectations. They reckon——” - -He stopped. They had come to the entrance to the hall, and Rouse made -his way in and hurriedly deposited himself upon a convenient chair. - -“Sit down,” he commanded. “Don’t stand up there staring. I don’t want -any attention called to me at all. I feel about the most congenital -idiot any human being could feel.” - -Terence sat down. - -“Are you quite sure you can see all right from there,” he inquired. -“Shall I ask that pretty gentleman in front to take his hat off?” - -“That isn’t a hat,” said Rouse, casting dull care aside in the swiftly -changing manner that was his wont, “that’s the gentleman’s hair. He has -it like that because he’s in the wool-gathering business. It isn’t quite -the same colour as it used to be last term though, is it? There seems a -faint suspicion of early autumn about it. He’s been reading that -advertisement, ‘All handsome men are bronzed,’ I expect, and he thinks -it refers to the hair.” - -The gentleman addressed turned haughtily and addressed himself to -Terence. - -“Would you mind asking your little boy to be quiet,” he said -courteously. “I find his remarks a trifle distracting, and I’ve paid for -my seat the same as what you ’ave.” - -“One of the curls is missing,” commented Rouse. “Is some lady the proud -possessor, or has his little brother been playing with the shears? It -gives the head a rather mothy appearance anyhow. Reminds me of a -part-worn doormat more than anything else.” - -“Oh, rub his face in a bun,” retorted the gentleman with the golden -locks. - -Rouse opened his mouth to reply but his final comment was cut short. -Toby Nicholson had risen and there had come a respectful hush. Then, -because it was his first official appearance on his return to Harley, -cheering broke out. He coloured awkwardly and stood for a minute waiting -the chance to speak, and eventually he began. He spoke just long enough -to explain the position to them, and to remind those who might not have -realised the fact that the school must certainly have suffered in -reputation by the leanness of the term just past. - -“The way to win back our name as one of the first sporting schools in -England,” said Toby, “is not to attempt a late cut at a football season, -but to put the whole of our heart and soul into boxing and the sports. -For that reason you need a captain who can really lead the school into a -record year. Boxing has always counted for more at Harley than at many -other schools, and this term it must count as the only game worth while. -We want every fellow in the school who’s capable to try his hand at it. -Only so can we find the very best talent in the school.” He stopped. -“Who is proposed?” he said after a moment. - -Without delay a peculiarly villainous-looking youth rose from his seat -and stood for a moment waiting. - -Rouse nodded towards him. - -“That lad has a nice open face,” he observed gravely. - -“Open?” whispered Terence. “You wait till he laughs. It opens from ear -to ear.” - -There came the muffled sound of a suffocated guffaw, and at the same -moment the terrible young man spoke. - -“I propose Coles,” said he, “the senior old colour.” - -“I second that,” declared another, rising swiftly from a corner seat. - -There was a moment’s hesitation, then a totally different type of fellow -bobbed up from a position close to Rouse. It was Smythe, and he spoke -with vigour. - -“Mainwright’s house have held a meeting to-day, and on their behalf I -wish to propose that Rouse be elected captain of boxing.” - -He offered no explanation. He just waited a moment and then sat down. - -Forthwith Saville rose from beside Coles. - -“Seconded,” said he. - -There was a sweeping murmur partly of surprise and partly of assent, and -then Toby looked round them quickly. - -“Is anyone else proposed?” - -It was evident that there was not. But the villainous young man who had -spoken first rose in his seat defiantly and faced Toby. - -“It is quite natural, sir,” said he, “that after last year’s -disappointment some of the fellows should want to pay Rouse this -compliment, but it is an unwritten law that the captain of any game -shall always be the senior old colour of the game and, if possible, the -best man at it.” - -Next Pointon rose. - -“Is it not a fact, sir,” he inquired, “that when one selects a captain -one chooses a man with certain definite capabilities as a leader, and -not necessarily the best man at the game? Sometimes the two go together, -but this year we require above anything else the man who can get the -very most out of the school. Is there any unwritten law which prevents -Rouse being proposed in that capacity?” - -Toby seemed about to answer, but there came instead a sharp surprise. -Coles himself was upon his feet, just as when he had once before been -frivolously nominated as captain of Rugger, and he was looking round -them brazenly, as if by making a bold show he could effectually hide the -fear that was in him. And this was the fear. Towards the end of last -term it had become common knowledge in Seymour’s not only that he was -sending a fag to get whisky for him from the town, but that, although he -had been the prime instigator in the affair that had brought Roe -expulsion, he had made no attempt whatever to help Roe or to alleviate -his heavy share of punishment. In point of fact, he had slunk off. The -school had begun to realise this and Coles knew it. The fear that it -might possibly prevent his unanimous election as captain had troubled -him during the holidays, but at such times he had found comfort in the -fact that he could not see any suitable rival who could be sent up -against him. He knew now the limit of their search for a man. The best -they could find was Rouse, a fellow whom he had thrashed in his study. A -scornful smile was playing about his lips. He began to speak. - -“Look here,” he said, “I wanted to keep out of this.” - -That was how one might have expected Coles to begin. They listened to -him listlessly. For a while he seemed to be idly chattering, as if -seeking to make clear his own great modesty, but at last he came to the -point. He was suggesting a fight. They listened now with pricked ears. A -look of surprised delight had flashed into Toby’s eyes. Rouse was -peering at Coles incredulously. But it was true. He was claiming the -rights of an old colour. - -“Before a man who has never shown any interest in boxing treads on all -precedent and makes himself a dummy captain,” Coles had said, “other -fellows ought to be given a chance to see what he can do. Let Rouse come -into the ring. If he can beat me I shall be delighted to vote for him -myself.” - -He was rambling on pleadingly in this strain when it was suddenly -noticed that Rouse too was upon his feet. - -“I’m perfectly ready to fight you,” said he, “to-day.” - -To the Grey Man Toby explained it in another light. - -“It was what I had hoped might happen,” he said. “Because if we left it -to an election they would elect Rouse, and that would leave Coles with a -virtual grievance. But as it is, he himself has chosen this means of -ballot, and if he is beaten now he can have no cause for complaint at -all, and Harley will be the healthier for seeing a fellow whom they have -at last summed up thoroughly well outed.” - - * * * * * - -The school gymnasium was packed from end to end. Wherever one looked -boys of all shapes and sizes seemed to be piled one on top of the other -to the level of the roof. Whoever had not properly understood the truth -about Coles knew it now. The position was very clear indeed. All that -had been whispered about him in the last days of the Christmas term had -been true. The fellows in Seymour’s had admitted it. Coles had turned -spy. He had palled up to the school’s worst enemy. He had bullied his -fag. He had got whisky into the house and through him Roe had been -expelled. He had done no single thing for which the school did not, now -that they understood, condemn him with unutterable disgust. And Rouse -was standing up to him now to fight him and, if he could, to give him -the licking he so richly deserved, as a present from the school. Coles’ -day of reckoning had come. Only one thing troubled them. No one could -say how Rouse could be expected to win. It was true that they had such -astounding confidence in his ability to do the seemingly impossible that -this did not worry them very much. After all, he had won the Rainhurst -match when it had seemed to be lost. - -Yet even supposing he had spent his holidays learning to box so as to be -able to rescue them from the dread results of Coles becoming their -boxing captain, could he with a bare month’s practice really hope to -defeat the man who had boxed for the school at Aldershot? - -Coles was first into the ring. He came with a lofty and contented air, -looking significantly round the crowded walls. Then he sat down and -Rouse came into sight. The bearing of those whose only part was to look -on was very proper. There was no hysterical cheering. Each man received -a courteous round of applause. Toby Nicholson came to the ropes and told -them briefly the object of the match. Once again clapping was the only -evidence of their approval. The moments passed. - -At last it was time. - -In a breathless silence the two rose to their feet. Justice had turned -to them now to hold the scales in a steady hand. They were meeting at -last on level terms. No study walls hemmed them in. Their quarrel was to -be fought at last fairly to a finish. Staring stolidly one at the other -they met, and their right hands touched for a moment in token that the -play was fair. Then they slipped suddenly into a ready stance and the -fight had begun. - -Now Rouse began to realise that the things Johnny Winter had told him -must be true. That terrible nervousness that had been upon him for the -last two hours had passed. Doubt and mistrust in his power to do this -thing that the whole school were expecting of him had precipitately -vanished, as Johnny had declared they would when once he was in the -ring, and in their place had come, not overflowing confidence, but -detachment. - -His mind grew concentrated upon the immediate future in a way that -entirely obliterated all that tensely watching crowd from the picture. -He was isolated from them. He could not see things from their point of -view at all. He only knew that he had been appointed by the school to -deal punishment to one whom they had condemned, and the task had so -tightened every sinew in his body that he was fretting to begin. It had -become impossible to conceive defeat. Coles had come to the end of his -innings and was faced with the reckoning of his score against the -school. And he had to reckon now not with a miserable novice but with -one who understood clearly how to use his fists. Rouse had learned no -tricks. He had not even acquired the art of easy movement in the ring, -but he knew how to stand and how to hit, and the straight left which was -almost the only blow that Johnny had allowed him to rely upon was ready -for its work. The moment that Coles’ hands were up Rouse slipped in. -Coles waited for him, just as he had waited when they had fought in a -study, ready to shoot in his counter the instant Rouse exposed himself. -But times had changed. Rouse showed him one quick threatening movement -with his right, and as Coles slipped to avoid the blow, there came at -him like a piston, very straight from the left shoulder, a closed glove, -hard and weighted like a loaded stick, and it thudded against his mouth -and jolted back his head. - -He reeled with astonishment, and jumped in with a vengeful counter, -under a somewhat mistaken impression that the blow was a fluke. But he -was met by a sure and classic guard that kept out every blow he knew; -and the moment that he tired of trying and drew back to think things -over, that left came out again and helped him on his way. And suddenly -he understood. He had been trapped. His pride in the use of his fists -had led him into a mad challenge, and the truth was shining from Rouse’s -steely eyes. He read the message as many another bully has read it -sooner or later in a bragging career. This man had him cold. Somebody -had touched up the fellow’s dogged courage with a little science, and -Rouse was no longer asking to be knocked out. For Coles it was going to -be the fight of his life. He began to move nimbly about the ring, his -feet slipping noiselessly over the boards as he tempted Rouse this way -and that in the hopes of drawing him. But Rouse had been coached too -well. He understood perfectly what this meant. Coles had not fought him -this way before. His straight left had hurt Coles, and he was going to -keep away. - -Rouse began to move steadily towards him. Coles danced eagerly across -his front, but footwork availed him little. Gradually Rouse’s left foot -began to work its way in, and at last, when it was against Coles’ toe -and he knew that a step would carry him within striking distance, he -darted in, and his left went out again and smashed against the other’s -face. There was a moment of grim excitement as Coles answered him with a -rain of violent drives and uppercuts that displayed his temper, but at -last it could be seen that Rouse was safely through the trial none the -worse for wear, and that Coles was flushed with heat. For a while he -drew back and waited, then as Rouse began to work in again with his -guard well up and his chin covered by the point of his shoulder, Coles -sprang up against him and bore him back. There was a brief grim tussle -for supremacy at close quarters, and then out of the fury of the rally -there gradually emerged the undoubted victor. Rouse had thrust his man -away by sheer strength and had drawn back for a heavy blow. As Coles -bored in again he struck out. The blow took Coles on the side of the -chin as he bounded forward, and he just staggered sideways and fell in a -heap. - -For a moment he lay there. There was no applause. The silence was more -telling. He lay puzzling out what to do, and then at last he got up and -looked for Rouse with eyes that were ablaze with wrath. Rouse had waited -for a sign that he was ready, and now, as Coles put up his hands, he -walked in and began the real work that he had to do. So far he had -merely steadied his man. The last blow had been the signal that this -phase was over. The thrashing that he deserved was to come. Coles could -box and it was difficult to work him into a corner, but his fiery temper -was a decided help to Rouse, and at length he had Coles against the -ropes, standing with legs apart and both gloves held in a threatening -attitude of readiness. Rouse looked at him grimly and came in. For a -moment there was a whirl of fists. Then just as before the better man -emerged. A glove flashed up from his hip and almost lifted Coles off his -feet with the force of its landing. Coles tried to answer with his left, -but he was off his balance, and Rouse merely dodged back, then swung in -again with the whole weight of his body behind his glove. This time -Coles fell slowly, like a man struggling against unconsciousness, and at -last when he hit the boards he lay still. - -Rouse drew back, watching him inscrutably. Still there was no applause. -Coles was not yet entirely done for. He had not yet been punished to the -full. He got up groggily and stood waiting. Rouse moved in and struck -him again. He rocked and tried to collect himself for a final effort. - -For the crowd who stood watching it was a glorious moment. Once again -Rouse had achieved the seemingly impossible. Coles stood there swaying -in defeat and no man could rightly tell his thoughts, but at last, when -he saw Rouse moving to hit him again, he leant forward and struck out -with left and right as he came. One blow landed, but it failed to stop -Rouse, and he came on slowly, relentlessly. His glove swung from the -shoulder and landed against the other head with a thud. Coles began to -fall. He made one effort to hit back. As he righted himself he exposed -his chin, and Rouse let go a blow that carried every atom of his -strength. This time Coles just threw out his hands, and dropped in a -limp heap at his feet. - -Rouse turned to his comer with a sigh of untold satisfaction. He had -only one fear, and that was that Coles might recover in time to come up -for another round. He wanted to have turned the tables on Coles with -real effect. Coles had beaten _him_ in one round. - -For a moment he was in doubt. Then Toby finished counting and made a -quick sign with his hand. - -Coles’ second came into the ring and picked him up. - -Rouse had won. Still there was no applause. He looked once towards -Terence, but he gave no sign of real gladness. His feelings were part -and parcel of the feelings of the entire school. A traitor had met with -his deserts. There was nothing to clap about. - -And then quite suddenly he realised his mistake. They had merely been -waiting for Coles to be carried away. Now they had turned to him, and -thunder began to roll from every side towards him. It grew and grew -until the windows were rattling in their frames and the rafters of the -gym. were trembling with concussion. Louder and louder it swelled. -Wherever he looked hands were beating the air. He tried to make his way -to the dressing-room. He was seized by strong arms and hoisted up. He -tried to quell them. It was no good. The pent-up excitement of the last -term’s end was too much for their control. Yesterday’s captain had -become to-day’s. What could they do but cheer? - - * * * * * - -Across the playing fields there came a little man clad in a sombre suit -and wearing upon his head a soft felt hat of great respectability. As he -came he looked from side to side as if in doubt as to which road he -ought to take, and so when he came within sight of the school gymnasium -he stopped. Next moment a noise like the crashing to earth of some -gigantic edifice shattered his very ear-drums, and he stood swaying for -a moment, shaken from head to foot. At last he turned towards the -building from which that vast explosion had appeared to come, and as his -senses gradually reassumed their balance he realised that the thunderous -echo of it was continuing. He began to walk on, his head turned in -astonishment as he went, and as the noise grew and grew he stopped -again, his blue eyes wide with wonder. - -Then from the doorway of the gym. there came a stream of running -youngsters, who turned in the open and waited for those behind to form a -vast half-circle. Next he saw Toby Nicholson thrust out into the open by -the weight of the mob behind him, and at last there came a kaleidoscopic -mass of humanity tumbling out from the doors in a tidal wave, bearing -upon its crest the boy that he had taught to box. - -Then he began to understand, and so he slowly smiled. - -He was still smiling like this when Toby disengaged himself and, seeing -him, came across to shake his hand with extraordinary vigour. - -“I have come as I promised,” said the little man, “because I have found -the very man you want, and he is ready to start as your coach to-morrow -if your Headmaster is agreeable. I thought I would come down and see him -myself.” - -“The Headmaster wants to meet you,” said Toby. “And you couldn’t have -come at a better time. Your man has won.” - -He turned to look for a moment quizzically upon the seething mob, and -suddenly moved forward and beckoned to a tall thin boy who had detached -himself from the crowd and seemed to be looking for his cap. This he -recovered at last and came towards them. - -“Hope,” said Toby, “I want to introduce you to this gentleman. He is -Carr’s father and he taught Rouse to box.” - -Henry looked at the little man over the tops of his glasses, the excited -flush still evident upon his cheek and his breath still laboured. Then -he solemnly raised his cap and held out his hand. - -“I am very proud to know you, sir,” said he. “Your son has come back to -Morley’s now and we are firm friends.” He suddenly turned his head. The -scene was growing into one of indescribable commotion. He looked once -longingly, then turned to Toby as if in pleading. “If you would just -excuse me a minute, sir,” said he, “I really _must_ go and cheer a bit.” - -He went off with a sudden raking stride, shouting wild cat calls through -cupped hands, and the little man turned to Toby. - -“It would be better for you to tell them who I am, Mr Nicholson, than to -let them be deceived,” said he. “You see—that boy raised his hat to me.” - -Toby nodded his head. - -“Yes,” said he, “of course. Any boy here always raises his hat to -another boy’s father.” - -The little man did not entirely understand. - -“But,” he began, “a professional boxer——” - -Toby stopped him. - -“You taught Rouse to box,” he said, “and he knocked Coles out. I can’t -explain any more. The fellows at this school will always raise their -hats to you.” - -“It makes me feel almost as if I were a—gentleman,” said Johnny simply. - -Toby looked at him with a fond smile. - -“Come to the Head,” said he, “and be introduced. You’ll understand -better after you’ve seen him.” - - * * * * * - -Rouse sat in his bath. - -The comfort of hot water wrapping him round was bringing to him a -wonderful sense of restfulness and repose. The shouting had died away at -last and he was alone. Somewhere he understood that the school were -forming into a queue that stretched twice across the playing fields, -waiting to give in their names as desirous of taking up boxing during -the coming term. He looked ahead and he could see no single cloud upon -the far horizon. The year was shaping its course for breaking record. He -was amazingly content, and when at last there came a knock upon the door -he turned in surprise and waited a moment before he said in guarded -tones: - -“Who’s that?” - -“I’ve brought you a couple of _hot towels_,” was the answer. “I thought -you’d like them.” - -For a moment Rouse lay still, utterly and finally at peace with all the -world. At last he replied. - -“Terence, my boy,” said he, “you are not, all things considered, at all -a bad old stick. One of these days I am inclined to think that I shall -very probably learn to like you.” - -It was, as we know, only in moments of the deepest emotion that Rouse -ever called Terence by his proper name. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - 2. Anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as - printed. - 3. 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