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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6879-h.zip b/6879-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8415d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/6879-h.zip diff --git a/6879-h/6879-h.htm b/6879-h/6879-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2eba115 --- /dev/null +++ b/6879-h/6879-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7825 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg etext of The Gold Bat, by P. G. Wodehouse</title> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bat, by P. G. Wodehouse + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The Gold Bat + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Posting Date: August 26, 2012 [EBook #6879] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 6, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAT *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>THE GOLD BAT</h1> + +<h2>by P. G. Wodehouse</h2> + +<p>1904</p> + +<p>[Dedication]<br /> +To<br /> +THAT PRINCE OF SLACKERS,<br /> +HERBERT WESTBROOK</p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<p>Chapter</p> + +<p>I THE FIFTEENTH PLACE</p> + +<p>II THE GOLD BAT</p> + +<p>III THE MAYOR’S STATUE</p> + +<p>IV THE LEAGUE’S WARNING</p> + +<p>V MILL RECEIVES VISITORS</p> + +<p>VI TREVOR REMAINS FIRM</p> + +<p>VII “WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE”</p> + +<p>VIII O’HARA ON THE TRACK</p> + +<p>IX MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS</p> + +<p>X BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS</p> + +<p>XI THE HOUSE-MATCHES</p> + +<p>XII NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT</p> + +<p>XIII VICTIM NUMBER THREE</p> + +<p>XIV THE WHITE FIGURE</p> + +<p>XV A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE</p> + +<p>XVI THE RIPTON MATCH</p> + +<p>XVII THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT</p> + +<p>XVIII O’HARA EXCELS HIMSELF</p> + +<p>XIX THE MAYOR’S VISIT</p> + +<p>XX THE FINDING OF THE BAT</p> + +<p>XXI THE LEAGUE REVEALED</p> + +<p>XXII A DRESS REHEARSAL</p> + +<p>XXIII WHAT RENFORD SAW</p> + +<p>XXIV CONCLUSION</p> + +<h2>I</h2> + +<h2>THE FIFTEENTH PLACE</h2> + +<p>“Outside!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be an idiot, man.  I bagged +it first.”</p> + +<p>“My dear chap, I’ve been waiting here +a month.”</p> + +<p>“When you fellows have <i>quite</i> +finished rotting about in front of that bath don’t +let <i>me</i> detain you.”</p> + +<p>“Anybody seen that sponge?”</p> + +<p>“Well, look here”—­this in a +tone of compromise—­“let’s toss +for it.”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Odd man out.”</p> + +<p>All of which, being interpreted, meant +that the first match of the Easter term had just come +to an end, and that those of the team who, being day +boys, changed over at the pavilion, instead of performing +the operation at leisure and in comfort, as did the +members of houses, were discussing the vital question—­who +was to have first bath?</p> + +<p>The Field Sports Committee at Wrykyn—­that +is, at the school which stood some half-mile outside +that town and took its name from it—­were +not lavish in their expenditure as regarded the changing +accommodation in the pavilion.  Letters appeared +in every second number of the <i>Wrykinian</i>, some +short, others long, some from members of the school, +others from Old Boys, all protesting against the condition +of the first, second, and third fifteen dressing-rooms.  +“Indignant” would inquire acidly, in half +a page of small type, if the editor happened to be +aware that there was no hair-brush in the second room, +and only half a comb.  “Disgusted O. W.” +would remark that when he came down with the Wandering +Zephyrs to play against the third fifteen, the +water supply had suddenly and mysteriously failed, +and the W.Z.’s had been obliged to go home as +they were, in a state of primeval grime, and he thought +that this was “a very bad thing in a school of +over six hundred boys”, though what the number +of boys had to do with the fact that there was no +water he omitted to explain.  The editor would +express his regret in brackets, and things would go +on as before.</p> + +<p>There was only one bath in the first +fifteen room, and there were on the present occasion +six claimants to it.  And each claimant was of +the fixed opinion that, whatever happened subsequently, +he was going to have it first.  Finally, on the +suggestion of Otway, who had reduced tossing to a +fine art, a mystic game of Tommy Dodd was played.  +Otway having triumphantly obtained first innings, +the conversation reverted to the subject of the match.</p> + +<p>The Easter term always opened with +a scratch game against a mixed team of masters and +old boys, and the school usually won without any great +exertion.  On this occasion the match had been +rather more even than the average, and the team had +only just pulled the thing off by a couple of tries +to a goal.  Otway expressed an opinion that the +school had played badly.</p> + +<p>“Why on earth don’t you +forwards let the ball out occasionally?” he +asked.  Otway was one of the first fifteen halves.</p> + +<p>“They were so jolly heavy in +the scrum,” said Maurice, one of the forwards.  +“And when we did let it out, the outsides nearly +always mucked it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it wasn’t the halves’ +fault.  We always got it out to the centres.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t the centres,” +put in Robinson.  “They played awfully well.  +Trevor was ripping.”</p> + +<p>“Trevor always is,” said +Otway; “I should think he’s about the best +captain we’ve had here for a long time.  +He’s certainly one of the best centres.”</p> + +<p>“Best there’s been since Rivers-Jones,” +said Clephane.</p> + +<p>Rivers-Jones was one of those players +who mark an epoch.  He had been in the team fifteen +years ago, and had left Wrykyn to captain Cambridge +and play three years in succession for Wales.  +The school regarded the standard set by him as one +that did not admit of comparison.  However good +a Wrykyn centre three-quarter might be, the most he +could hope to be considered was “the best <i>since</i> +Rivers-Jones”.  “Since” Rivers-Jones, +however, covered fifteen years, and to be looked on +as the best centre the school could boast of during +that time, meant something.  For Wrykyn knew how +to play football.</p> + +<p>Since it had been decided thus that +the faults in the school attack did not lie with the +halves, forwards, or centres, it was more or less +evident that they must be attributable to the wings.  +And the search for the weak spot was even further +narrowed down by the general verdict that Clowes, +on the left wing, had played well.  With a beautiful +unanimity the six occupants of the first fifteen room +came to the conclusion that the man who had let the +team down that day had been the man on the right—­Rand-Brown, +to wit, of Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bet he doesn’t +stay in the first long,” said Clephane, who was +now in the bath, <i>vice</i> Otway, retired.  “I +suppose they had to try him, as he was the senior +wing three-quarter of the second, but he’s no +earthly good.”</p> + +<p>“He only got into the second +because he’s big,” was Robinson’s +opinion.  “A man who’s big and strong +can always get his second colours.”</p> + +<p>“Even if he’s a funk, +like Rand-Brown,” said Clephane.  “Did +any of you chaps notice the way he let Paget through +that time he scored for them?  He simply didn’t +attempt to tackle him.  He could have brought him +down like a shot if he’d only gone for him.  +Paget was running straight along the touch-line, and +hadn’t any room to dodge.  I know Trevor +was jolly sick about it.  And then he let him +through once before in just the same way in the first +half, only Trevor got round and stopped him.  He +was rank.”</p> + +<p>“Missed every other pass, too,” said Otway.</p> + +<p>Clephane summed up.</p> + +<p>“He was rank,” he said again.  “Trevor +won’t keep him in the team long.”</p> + +<p>“I wish Paget hadn’t left,” +said Otway, referring to the wing three-quarter who, +by leaving unexpectedly at the end of the Christmas +term, had let Rand-Brown into the team.  His loss +was likely to be felt.  Up till Christmas Wrykyn +had done well, and Paget had been their scoring man.  +Rand-Brown had occupied a similar position in the second +fifteen.  He was big and speedy, and in second +fifteen matches these qualities make up for a great +deal.  If a man scores one or two tries in nearly +every match, people are inclined to overlook in him +such failings as timidity and clumsiness.  It +is only when he comes to be tried in football of a +higher class that he is seen through.  In the second +fifteen the fact that Rand-Brown was afraid to tackle +his man had almost escaped notice.  But the habit +would not do in first fifteen circles.</p> + +<p>“All the same,” said Clephane, +pursuing his subject, “if they don’t play +him, I don’t see who they’re going to get.  +He’s the best of the second three-quarters, +as far as I can see.”</p> + +<p>It was this very problem that was +puzzling Trevor, as he walked off the field with Paget +and Clowes, when they had got into their blazers after +the match.  Clowes was in the same house as Trevor—­Donaldson’s—­and +Paget was staying there, too.  He had been head +of Donaldson’s up to Christmas.</p> + +<p>“It strikes me,” said +Paget, “the school haven’t got over the +holidays yet.  I never saw such a lot of slackers.  +You ought to have taken thirty points off the sort +of team you had against you today.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever known the school +play well on the second day of term?” asked +Clowes.  “The forwards always play as if +the whole thing bored them to death.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t the forwards +that mattered so much,” said Trevor.  “They’ll +shake down all right after a few matches.  A little +running and passing will put them right.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s hope so,” +Paget observed, “or we might as well scratch +to Ripton at once.  There’s a jolly sight +too much of the mince-pie and Christmas pudding about +their play at present.”  There was a pause.  +Then Paget brought out the question towards which +he had been moving all the time.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of Rand-Brown?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>It was pretty clear by the way he +spoke what he thought of that player himself, but +in discussing with a football captain the capabilities +of the various members of his team, it is best to +avoid a too positive statement one way or the other +before one has heard his views on the subject.  +And Paget was one of those people who like to know +the opinions of others before committing themselves.</p> + +<p>Clowes, on the other hand, was in +the habit of forming his views on his own account, +and expressing them.  If people agreed with them, +well and good:  it afforded strong presumptive +evidence of their sanity.  If they disagreed, +it was unfortunate, but he was not going to alter his +opinions for that, unless convinced at great length +that they were unsound.  He summed things up, +and gave you the result.  You could take it or +leave it, as you preferred.</p> + +<p>“I thought he was bad,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Bad!” exclaimed Trevor, +“he was a disgrace.  One can understand a +chap having his off-days at any game, but one doesn’t +expect a man in the Wrykyn first to funk.  He +mucked five out of every six passes I gave him, too, +and the ball wasn’t a bit slippery.  Still, +I shouldn’t mind that so much if he had only +gone for his man properly.  It isn’t being +out of practice that makes you funk.  And even +when he did have a try at you, Paget, he always went +high.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said Clowes thoughtfully, +“would seem to show that he was game.”</p> + +<p>Nobody so much as smiled.  Nobody +ever did smile at Clowes’ essays in wit, perhaps +because of the solemn, almost sad, tone of voice in +which he delivered them.  He was tall and dark +and thin, and had a pensive eye, which encouraged +the more soulful of his female relatives to entertain +hopes that he would some day take orders.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Paget, relieved +at finding that he did not stand alone in his views +on Rand-Brown’s performance, “I must say +I thought he was awfully bad myself.”</p> + +<p>“I shall try somebody else next +match,” said Trevor.  “It’ll +be rather hard, though.  The man one would naturally +put in, Bryce, left at Christmas, worse luck.”</p> + +<p>Bryce was the other wing three-quarter +of the second fifteen.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there anybody in the third?” +asked Paget.</p> + +<p>“Barry,” said Clowes briefly.</p> + +<p>“Clowes thinks Barry’s good,” explained +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“He <i>is</i> good,” said +Clowes.  “I admit he’s small, but he +can tackle.”</p> + +<p>“The question is, would he be +any good in the first?  A chap might do jolly +well for the third, and still not be worth trying for +the first.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember much +about Barry,” said Paget, “except being +collared by him when we played Seymour’s last +year in the final.  I certainly came away with +a sort of impression that he could tackle.  I thought +he marked me jolly well.”</p> + +<p>“There you are, then,” +said Clowes.  “A year ago Barry could tackle +Paget.  There’s no reason for supposing that +he’s fallen off since then.  We’ve +seen that Rand-Brown <i>can’t</i> tackle Paget.  +Ergo, Barry is better worth playing for the team than +Rand-Brown.  Q.E.D.”</p> + +<p>“All right, then,” replied +Trevor.  “There can’t be any harm in +trying him.  We’ll have another scratch +game on Thursday.  Will you be here then, Paget?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes.  I’m stopping till Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“Good man.  Then we shall +be able to see how he does against you.  I wish +you hadn’t left, though, by Jove.  We should +have had Ripton on toast, the same as last term.”</p> + +<p>Wrykyn played five schools, but six +school matches.  The school that they played twice +in the season was Ripton.  To win one Ripton match +meant that, however many losses it might have sustained +in the other matches, the school had had, at any rate, +a passable season.  To win two Ripton matches +in the same year was almost unheard of.  This year +there had seemed every likelihood of it.  The +match before Christmas on the Ripton ground had resulted +in a win for Wrykyn by two goals and a try to a try.  +But the calculations of the school had been upset by +the sudden departure of Paget at the end of term, +and also of Bryce, who had hitherto been regarded +as his understudy.  And in the first Ripton match +the two goals had both been scored by Paget, and both +had been brilliant bits of individual play, which +a lesser man could not have carried through.</p> + +<p>The conclusion, therefore, at which +the school reluctantly arrived, was that their chances +of winning the second match could not be judged by +their previous success.  They would have to approach +the Easter term fixture from another—­a +non-Paget—­standpoint.  In these circumstances +it became a serious problem:  who was to get the +fifteenth place?  Whoever played in Paget’s +stead against Ripton would be certain, if the match +were won, to receive his colours.  Who, then, would +fill the vacancy?</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown, of course,” said the crowd.</p> + +<p>But the experts, as we have shown, were of a different +opinion.</p> + +<h2>II</h2> + +<h2>THE GOLD BAT</h2> + +<p>Trevor did not take long to resume +a garb of civilisation.  He never wasted much +time over anything.  He was gifted with a boundless +energy, which might possibly have made him unpopular +had he not justified it by results.  The football +of the school had never been in such a flourishing +condition as it had attained to on his succeeding to +the captaincy.  It was not only that the first +fifteen was good.  The excellence of a first fifteen +does not always depend on the captain.  But the +games, even down to the very humblest junior game, +had woken up one morning—­at the beginning +of the previous term—­to find themselves, +much to their surprise, organised going concerns.  +Like the immortal Captain Pott, Trevor was “a +terror to the shirker and the lubber”.  And +the resemblance was further increased by the fact that +he was “a toughish lot”, who was “little, +but steel and india-rubber”.  At first sight +his appearance was not imposing.  Paterfamilias, +who had heard his son’s eulogies on Trevor’s +performances during the holidays, and came down to +watch the school play a match, was generally rather +disappointed on seeing five feet six where he had looked +for at least six foot one, and ten stone where he +had expected thirteen.  But then, what there was +of Trevor was, as previously remarked, steel and india-rubber, +and he certainly played football like a miniature +Stoddart.  It was characteristic of him that, though +this was the first match of the term, his condition +seemed to be as good as possible.  He had done +all his own work on the field and most of Rand-Brown’s, +and apparently had not turned a hair.  He was one +of those conscientious people who train in the holidays.</p> + +<p>When he had changed, he went down +the passage to Clowes’ study.  Clowes was +in the position he frequently took up when the weather +was good—­wedged into his window in a sitting +position, one leg in the study, the other hanging +outside over space.  The indoor leg lacked a boot, +so that it was evident that its owner had at least +had the energy to begin to change.  That he had +given the thing up after that, exhausted with the effort, +was what one naturally expected from Clowes.  +He would have made a splendid actor:  he was so +good at resting.</p> + +<p>“Hurry up and dress,” +said Trevor; “I want you to come over to the +baths.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth do you want over at the baths?”</p> + +<p>“I want to see O’Hara.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I remember.  Dexter’s +are camping out there, aren’t they?  I heard +they were.  Why is it?”</p> + +<p>“One of the Dexter kids got +measles in the last week of the holidays, so they +shunted all the beds and things across, and the chaps +went back there instead of to the house.”</p> + +<p>In the winter term the baths were +always boarded over and converted into a sort of extra +gymnasium where you could go and box or fence when +there was no room to do it in the real gymnasium.  +Socker and stump-cricket were also largely played +there, the floor being admirably suited to such games, +though the light was always rather tricky, and prevented +heavy scoring.</p> + +<p>“I should think,” said +Clowes, “from what I’ve seen of Dexter’s +beauties, that Dexter would like them to camp out at +the bottom of the baths all the year round.  It +would be a happy release for him if they were all +drowned.  And I suppose if he had to choose any +one of them for a violent death, he’d pick O’Hara.  +O’Hara must be a boon to a house-master.  +I’ve known chaps break rules when the spirit +moved them, but he’s the only one I’ve +met who breaks them all day long and well into the +night simply for amusement.  I’ve often thought +of writing to the S.P.C.A. about it.  I suppose +you could call Dexter an animal all right?”</p> + +<p>“O’Hara’s right +enough, really.  A man like Dexter would make any +fellow run amuck.  And then O’Hara’s +an Irishman to start with, which makes a difference.”</p> + +<p>There is usually one house in every +school of the black sheep sort, and, if you go to +the root of the matter, you will generally find that +the fault is with the master of that house.  A +house-master who enters into the life of his house, +coaches them in games—­if an athlete—­or, +if not an athlete, watches the games, umpiring at cricket +and refereeing at football, never finds much difficulty +in keeping order.  It may be accepted as fact +that the juniors of a house will never be orderly +of their own free will, but disturbances in the junior +day-room do not make the house undisciplined.  +The prefects are the criterion.  If you find them +joining in the general “rags”, and even +starting private ones on their own account, then you +may safely say that it is time the master of that +house retired from the business, and took to chicken-farming.  +And that was the state of things in Dexter’s.  +It was the most lawless of the houses.  Mr Dexter +belonged to a type of master almost unknown at a public +school—­the usher type.  In a private +school he might have passed.  At Wrykyn he was +out of place.  To him the whole duty of a house-master +appeared to be to wage war against his house.</p> + +<p>When Dexter’s won the final +for the cricket cup in the summer term of two years +back, the match lasted four afternoons—­four +solid afternoons of glorious, up-and-down cricket.  +Mr Dexter did not see a single ball of that match +bowled.  He was prowling in sequestered lanes and +broken-down barns out of bounds on the off-chance +that he might catch some member of his house smoking +there.  As if the whole of the house, from the +head to the smallest fag, were not on the field watching +Day’s best bats collapse before Henderson’s +bowling, and Moriarty hit up that marvellous and unexpected +fifty-three at the end of the second innings!</p> + +<p>That sort of thing definitely stamps a master.</p> + +<p>“What do you want to see O’Hara about?” +asked Clowes.</p> + +<p>“He’s got my little gold bat.  I lent +it him in the holidays.”</p> + +<p>A remark which needs a footnote.  +The bat referred to was made of gold, and was about +an inch long by an eighth broad.  It had come into +existence some ten years previously, in the following +manner.  The inter-house cricket cup at Wrykyn +had originally been a rather tarnished and unimpressive +vessel, whose only merit consisted in the fact that +it was of silver.  Ten years ago an Old Wrykinian, +suddenly reflecting that it would not be a bad idea +to do something for the school in a small way, hied +him to the nearest jeweller’s and purchased +another silver cup, vast withal and cunningly decorated +with filigree work, and standing on a massive ebony +plinth, round which were little silver lozenges just +big enough to hold the name of the winning house and +the year of grace.  This he presented with his +blessing to be competed for by the dozen houses that +made up the school of Wrykyn, and it was formally +established as the house cricket cup.  The question +now arose:  what was to be done with the other +cup?  The School House, who happened to be the +holders at the time, suggested disinterestedly that +it should become the property of the house which had +won it last.  “Not so,” replied the +Field Sports Committee, “but far otherwise.  +We will have it melted down in a fiery furnace, and +thereafter fashioned into eleven little silver bats.  +And these little silver bats shall be the guerdon +of the eleven members of the winning team, to have +and to hold for the space of one year, unless, by +winning the cup twice in succession, they gain the +right of keeping the bat for yet another year.  +How is that, umpire?” And the authorities replied, +“O men of infinite resource and sagacity, verily +is it a cold day when <i>you</i> get left behind.  +Forge ahead.”  But, when they had forged +ahead, behold! it would not run to eleven little silver +bats, but only to ten little silver bats.  Thereupon +the headmaster, a man liberal with his cash, caused +an eleventh little bat to be fashioned—­for +the captain of the winning team to have and to hold +in the manner aforesaid.  And, to single it out +from the others, it was wrought, not of silver, but +of gold.  And so it came to pass that at the time +of our story Trevor was in possession of the little +gold bat, because Donaldson’s had won the cup +in the previous summer, and he had captained them—­and, +incidentally, had scored seventy-five without a mistake.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m hanged if I +would trust O’Hara with my bat,” said Clowes, +referring to the silver ornament on his own watch-chain; +“he’s probably pawned yours in the holidays.  +Why did you lend it to him?”</p> + +<p>“His people wanted to see it.  +I know him at home, you know.  They asked me to +lunch the last day but one of the holidays, and we +got talking about the bat, because, of course, if +we hadn’t beaten Dexter’s in the final, +O’Hara would have had it himself.  So I sent +it over next day with a note asking O’Hara to +bring it back with him here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, there’s a chance, +then, seeing he’s only had it so little time, +that he hasn’t pawned it yet.  You’d +better rush off and get it back as soon as possible.  +It’s no good waiting for me.  I shan’t +be ready for weeks.”</p> + +<p>“Where’s Paget?”</p> + +<p>“Teaing with Donaldson.  At least, he said +he was going to.”</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose I shall have to go alone.  +I hate walking alone.”</p> + +<p>“If you hurry,” said Clowes, +scanning the road from his post of vantage, “you’ll +be able to go with your fascinating pal Ruthven.  +He’s just gone out.”</p> + +<p>Trevor dashed downstairs in his energetic +way, and overtook the youth referred to.</p> + +<p>Clowes brooded over them from above +like a sorrowful and rather disgusted Providence.  +Trevor’s liking for Ruthven, who was a Donaldsonite +like himself, was one of the few points on which the +two had any real disagreement.  Clowes could not +understand how any person in his senses could of his +own free will make an intimate friend of Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Trevor,” said Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Come over to the baths,” +said Trevor, “I want to see O’Hara about +something.  Or were you going somewhere else.”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t going anywhere +in particular.  I never know what to do in term-time.  +It’s deadly dull.”</p> + +<p>Trevor could never understand how +any one could find term-time dull.  For his own +part, there always seemed too much to do in the time.</p> + +<p>“You aren’t allowed to +play games?” he said, remembering something +about a doctor’s certificate in the past.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Ruthven.  “Thank +goodness,” he added.</p> + +<p>Which remark silenced Trevor.  +To a person who thanked goodness that he was not allowed +to play games he could find nothing to say.  But +he ceased to wonder how it was that Ruthven was dull.</p> + +<p>They proceeded to the baths together +in silence.  O’Hara, they were informed +by a Dexter’s fag who met them outside the door, +was not about.</p> + +<p>“When he comes back,” +said Trevor, “tell him I want him to come to +tea tomorrow directly after school, and bring my bat.  +Don’t forget.”</p> + +<p>The fag promised to make a point of it.</p> + +<h2>III</h2> + +<h2>THE MAYOR’S STATUE</h2> + +<p>One of the rules that governed the +life of Donough O’Hara, the light-hearted descendant +of the O’Haras of Castle Taterfields, Co.  +Clare, Ireland, was “Never refuse the offer of +a free tea”.  So, on receipt—­per +the Dexter’s fag referred to—­of Trevor’s +invitation, he scratched one engagement (with his +mathematical master—­not wholly unconnected +with the working-out of Examples 200 to 206 in Hall +and Knight’s Algebra), postponed another (with +his friend and ally Moriarty, of Dexter’s, who +wished to box with him in the gymnasium), and made +his way at a leisurely pace towards Donaldson’s.  +He was feeling particularly pleased with himself today, +for several reasons.  He had begun the day well +by scoring brilliantly off Mr Dexter across the matutinal +rasher and coffee.  In morning school he had been +put on to translate the one passage which he happened +to have prepared—­the first ten lines, in +fact, of the hundred which formed the morning’s +lesson.  And in the final hour of afternoon school, +which was devoted to French, he had discovered and +exploited with great success an entirely new and original +form of ragging.  This, he felt, was the strenuous +life; this was living one’s life as one’s +life should be lived.</p> + +<p>He met Trevor at the gate.  As +they were going in, a carriage and pair dashed past.  +Its cargo consisted of two people, the headmaster, +looking bored, and a small, dapper man, with a very +red face, who looked excited, and was talking volubly.  +Trevor and O’Hara raised their caps as the chariot +swept by, but the salute passed unnoticed.  The +Head appeared to be wrapped in thought.</p> + +<p>“What’s the Old Man doing +in a carriage, I wonder,” said Trevor, looking +after them.  “Who’s that with him?”</p> + +<p>“That,” said O’Hara, “is Sir +Eustace Briggs.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s Sir Eustace Briggs?”</p> + +<p>O’Hara explained, in a rich +brogue, that Sir Eustace was Mayor of Wrykyn, a keen +politician, and a hater of the Irish nation, judging +by his letters and speeches.</p> + +<p>They went into Trevor’s study.  +Clowes was occupying the window in his usual manner.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, O’Hara,” +he said, “there is an air of quiet satisfaction +about you that seems to show that you’ve been +ragging Dexter.  Have you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that was only this morning +at breakfast.  The best rag was in French,” +replied O’Hara, who then proceeded to explain +in detail the methods he had employed to embitter +the existence of the hapless Gallic exile with whom +he had come in contact.  It was that gentleman’s +custom to sit on a certain desk while conducting the +lesson.  This desk chanced to be O’Hara’s.  +On the principle that a man may do what he likes with +his own, he had entered the room privily in the dinner-hour, +and removed the screws from his desk, with the result +that for the first half-hour of the lesson the class +had been occupied in excavating M. Gandinois from +the ruins.  That gentleman’s first act on +regaining his equilibrium had been to send O’Hara +out of the room, and O’Hara, who had foreseen +this emergency, had spent a very pleasant half-hour +in the passage with some mixed chocolates and a copy +of Mr Hornung’s <i>Amateur Cracksman</i>.  +It was his notion of a cheerful and instructive French +lesson.</p> + +<p>“What were you talking about +when you came in?” asked Clowes.  “Who’s +been slanging Ireland, O’Hara?”</p> + +<p>“The man Briggs.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do about +it?  Aren’t you going to take any steps?”</p> + +<p>“Is it steps?” said O’Hara, warmly, +“and haven’t we——­”</p> + +<p>He stopped.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Ye know,” he said, seriously, +“ye mustn’t let it go any further.  +I shall get sacked if it’s found out.  An’ +so will Moriarty, too.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Trevor, looking +up from the tea-pot he was filling, “what on +earth have you been doing?”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t it be rather +a cheery idea,” suggested Clowes, “if you +began at the beginning.”</p> + +<p>“Well, ye see,” O’Hara +began, “it was this way.  The first I heard +of it was from Dexter.  He was trying to score +off me as usual, an’ he said, ‘Have ye +seen the paper this morning, O’Hara?’ I +said, no, I had not.  Then he said, ‘Ah,’ +he said, ’ye should look at it.  There’s +something there that ye’ll find interesting.’  +I said, ‘Yes, sir?’ in me respectful way.  +‘Yes,’ said he, ’the Irish members +have been making their customary disturbances in the +House.  Why is it, O’Hara,’ he said, +’that Irishmen are always thrusting themselves +forward and making disturbances for purposes of self-advertisement?’ +‘Why, indeed, sir?’ said I, not knowing +what else to say, and after that the conversation +ceased.”</p> + +<p>“Go on,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“After breakfast Moriarty came +to me with a paper, and showed me what they had been +saying about the Irish.  There was a letter from +the man Briggs on the subject.  ’A very +sensible and temperate letter from Sir Eustace Briggs’, +they called it, but bedad! if that was a temperate +letter, I should like to know what an intemperate one +is.  Well, we read it through, and Moriarty said +to me, ‘Can we let this stay as it is?’ +And I said, ‘No.  We can’t.’  +‘Well,’ said Moriarty to me, ’what +are we to do about it?  I should like to tar and +feather the man,’ he said.  ’We can’t +do that,’ I said, ‘but why not tar and +feather his statue?’ I said.  So we thought +we would.  Ye know where the statue is, I suppose?  +It’s in the recreation ground just across the +river.”</p> + +<p>“I know the place,” said +Clowes.  “Go on.  This is ripping.  +I always knew you were pretty mad, but this sounds +as if it were going to beat all previous records.”</p> + +<p>“Have ye seen the baths this +term,” continued O’Hara, “since they +shifted Dexter’s house into them?  The beds +are in two long rows along each wall.  Moriarty’s +and mine are the last two at the end farthest from +the door.”</p> + +<p>“Just under the gallery,” said Trevor.  +“I see.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it.  Well, +at half-past ten sharp every night Dexter sees that +we’re all in, locks the door, and goes off to +sleep at the Old Man’s, and we don’t see +him again till breakfast.  He turns the gas off +from outside.  At half-past seven the next morning, +Smith”—­Smith was one of the school +porters—­“unlocks the door and calls +us, and we go over to the Hall to breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, directly everybody was +asleep last night—­it wasn’t till after +one, as there was a rag on—­Moriarty and +I got up, dressed, and climbed up into the gallery.  +Ye know the gallery windows?  They open at the +top, an’ it’s rather hard to get out of +them.  But we managed it, and dropped on to the +gravel outside.”</p> + +<p>“Long drop,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I hurt myself rather.  +But it was in a good cause.  I dropped first, +and while I was on the ground, Moriarty came on top +of me.  That’s how I got hurt.  But +it wasn’t much, and we cut across the grounds, +and over the fence, and down to the river.  It +was a fine night, and not very dark, and everything +smelt ripping down by the river.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get poetical,” said Clowes.  +“Stick to the point.”</p> + +<p>“We got into the boat-house—­”</p> + +<p>“How?” asked the practical +Trevor, for the boat-house was wont to be locked at +one in the morning.  “Moriarty had a key +that fitted,” explained O’Hara, briefly.  +“We got in, and launched a boat—­a +big tub—­put in the tar and a couple of +brushes—­there’s always tar in the +boat-house—­and rowed across.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit,” interrupted +Trevor, “you said tar and feathers.  Where +did you get the feathers?”</p> + +<p>“We used leaves.  They do +just as well, and there were heaps on the bank.  +Well, when we landed, we tied up the boat, and bucked +across to the Recreation Ground.  We got over +the railings—­beastly, spiky railings—­and +went over to the statue.  Ye know where the statue +stands?  It’s right in the middle of the +place, where everybody can see it.  Moriarty got +up first, and I handed him the tar and a brush.  +Then I went up with the other brush, and we began.  +We did his face first.  It was too dark to see +really well, but I think we made a good job of it.  +When we had put about as much tar on as we thought +would do, we took out the leaves—­which +we were carrying in our pockets—­and spread +them on.  Then we did the rest of him, and after +about half an hour, when we thought we’d done +about enough, we got into our boat again, and came +back.”</p> + +<p>“And what did you do till half-past seven?”</p> + +<p>“We couldn’t get back the way we’d +come, so we slept in the boat-house.”</p> + +<p>“Well—­I’m—­hanged,” +was Trevor’s comment on the story.</p> + +<p>Clowes roared with laughter.  O’Hara was +a perpetual joy to him.</p> + +<p>As O’Hara was going, Trevor asked him for his +gold bat.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t lost it, I hope?” he +said.</p> + +<p>O’Hara felt in his pocket, but +brought his hand out at once and transferred it to +another pocket.  A look of anxiety came over his +face, and was reflected in Trevor’s.</p> + +<p>“I could have sworn it was in that pocket,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“You <i>haven’t</i> lost it?” queried +Trevor again.</p> + +<p>“He has,” said Clowes, +confidently.  “If you want to know where +that bat is, I should say you’d find it somewhere +between the baths and the statue.  At the foot +of the statue, for choice.  It seems to me—­correct +me if I am wrong—­that you have been and +gone and done it, me broth <i>av</i> a bhoy.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara gave up the search.</p> + +<p>“It’s gone,” he +said.  “Man, I’m most awfully sorry.  +I’d sooner have lost a ten-pound note.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why you should +lose either,” snapped Trevor.  “Why +the blazes can’t you be more careful.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara was too penitent for +words.  Clowes took it on himself to point out +the bright side.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing to get +sick about, really,” he said.  “If +the thing doesn’t turn up, though it probably +will, you’ll simply have to tell the Old Man +that it’s lost.  He’ll have another +made.  You won’t be asked for it till just +before Sports Day either, so you will have plenty of +time to find it.”</p> + +<p>The challenge cups, and also the bats, +had to be given to the authorities before the sports, +to be formally presented on Sports Day.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I suppose it’ll be +all right,” said Trevor, “but I hope it +won’t be found anywhere near the statue.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara said he hoped so too.</p> + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<h2>THE LEAGUE’S WARNING</h2> + +<p>The team to play in any match was +always put upon the notice-board at the foot of the +stairs in the senior block a day before the date of +the fixture.  Both first and second fifteens had +matches on the Thursday of this week.  The second +were playing a team brought down by an old Wrykinian.  +The first had a scratch game.</p> + +<p>When Barry, accompanied by M’Todd, +who shared his study at Seymour’s and rarely +left him for two minutes on end, passed by the notice-board +at the quarter to eleven interval, it was to the second +fifteen list that he turned his attention.  Now +that Bryce had left, he thought he might have a chance +of getting into the second.  His only real rival, +he considered, was Crawford, of the School House, +who was the other wing three-quarter of the third +fifteen.  The first name he saw on the list was +Crawford’s.  It seemed to be written twice +as large as any of the others, and his own was nowhere +to be seen.  The fact that he had half expected +the calamity made things no better.  He had set +his heart on playing for the second this term.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he noticed a remarkable +phenomenon.  The other wing three-quarter was +Rand-Brown.  If Rand-Brown was playing for the +second, who was playing for the first?</p> + +<p>He looked at the list.</p> + +<p>“<i>Come</i> on,” he said +hastily to M’Todd.  He wanted to get away +somewhere where his agitated condition would not be +noticed.  He felt quite faint at the shock of +seeing his name on the list of the first fifteen.  +There it was, however, as large as life.  “M.  +Barry.”  Separated from the rest by a thin +red line, but still there.  In his most optimistic +moments he had never dreamed of this.  M’Todd +was reading slowly through the list of the second.  +He did everything slowly, except eating.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” said Barry again.</p> + +<p>M’Todd had, after much deliberation, +arrived at a profound truth.  He turned to Barry, +and imparted his discovery to him in the weighty manner +of one who realises the importance of his words.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said, “your name’s +not down here.”</p> + +<p>“I know. <i>Come</i> on.”</p> + +<p>“But that means you’re not playing for +the second.”</p> + +<p>“Of course it does.  Well, if you aren’t +coming, I’m off.”</p> + +<p>“But, look here——­”</p> + +<p>Barry disappeared through the door.  +After a moment’s pause, M’Todd followed +him.  He came up with him on the senior gravel.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“Are you sick about not playing for the second?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“You are, really.  Come and have a bun.”</p> + +<p>In the philosophy of M’Todd +it was indeed a deep-rooted sorrow that could not +be cured by the internal application of a new, hot +bun.  It had never failed in his own case.</p> + +<p>“Bun!” Barry was quite +shocked at the suggestion.  “I can’t +afford to get myself out of condition with beastly +buns.”</p> + +<p>“But if you aren’t playing——­”</p> + +<p>“You ass.  I’m playing for the first.  +Now, do you see?”</p> + +<p>M’Todd gaped.  His mind +never worked very rapidly.  “What about +Rand-Brown, then?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown’s been chucked +out.  Can’t you understand?  You <i>are</i> +an idiot.  Rand-Brown’s playing for the +second, and I’m playing for the first.”</p> + +<p>“But you’re——­”</p> + +<p>He stopped.  He had been going +to point out that Barry’s tender years—­he +was only sixteen—­and smallness would make +it impossible for him to play with success for the +first fifteen.  He refrained owing to a conviction +that the remark would not be wholly judicious.  +Barry was touchy on the subject of his size, and M’Todd +had suffered before now for commenting on it in a +disparaging spirit.</p> + +<p>“I tell you what we’ll +do after school,” said Barry, “we’ll +have some running and passing.  It’ll do +you a lot of good, and I want to practise taking passes +at full speed.  You can trot along at your ordinary +pace, and I’ll sprint up from behind.”</p> + +<p>M’Todd saw no objection to that.  +Trotting along at his ordinary pace—­five +miles an hour—­would just suit him.</p> + +<p>“Then after that,” continued +Barry, with a look of enthusiasm, “I want to +practise passing back to my centre.  Paget used +to do it awfully well last term, and I know Trevor +expects his wing to.  So I’ll buck along, +and you race up to take my pass.  See?”</p> + +<p>This was not in M’Todd’s +line at all.  He proposed a slight alteration +in the scheme.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better get somebody else—?” +he began.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a slack beast,” +said Barry.  “You want exercise awfully +badly.”</p> + +<p>And, as M’Todd always did exactly +as Barry wished, he gave in, and spent from four-thirty +to five that afternoon in the prescribed manner.  +A suggestion on his part at five sharp that it wouldn’t +be a bad idea to go and have some tea was not favourably +received by the enthusiastic three-quarter, who proposed +to devote what time remained before lock-up to practising +drop-kicking.  It was a painful alternative that +faced M’Todd.  His allegiance to Barry demanded +that he should consent to the scheme.  On the +other hand, his allegiance to afternoon tea—­equally +strong—­called him back to the house, where +there was cake, and also muffins.  In the end +the question was solved by the appearance of Drummond, +of Seymour’s, garbed in football things, and +also anxious to practise drop-kicking.  So M’Todd +was dismissed to his tea with opprobrious epithets, +and Barry and Drummond settled down to a little serious +and scientific work.</p> + +<p>Making allowances for the inevitable +attack of nerves that attends a first appearance in +higher football circles than one is accustomed to, +Barry did well against the scratch team—­certainly +far better than Rand-Brown had done.  His smallness +was, of course, against him, and, on the only occasion +on which he really got away, Paget overtook him and +brought him down.  But then Paget was exceptionally +fast.  In the two most important branches of the +game, the taking of passes and tackling, Barry did +well.  As far as pluck went he had enough for two, +and when the whistle blew for no-side he had not let +Paget through once, and Trevor felt that his inclusion +in the team had been justified.  There was another +scratch game on the Saturday.  Barry played in +it, and did much better.  Paget had gone away +by an early train, and the man he had to mark now +was one of the masters, who had been good in his time, +but was getting a trifle old for football.  Barry +scored twice, and on one occasion, by passing back +to Trevor after the manner of Paget, enabled the captain +to run in.  And Trevor, like the captain in <i>Billy +Taylor</i>, “werry much approved of what he’d +done.”  Barry began to be regarded in the +school as a regular member of the fifteen.  The +first of the fixture-card matches, versus the Town, +was due on the following Saturday, and it was generally +expected that he would play.  M’Todd’s +devotion increased every day.  He even went to +the length of taking long runs with him.  And +if there was one thing in the world that M’Todd +loathed, it was a long run.</p> + +<p>On the Thursday before the match against +the Town, Clowes came chuckling to Trevor’s +study after preparation, and asked him if he had heard +the latest.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever heard of the League?” he +said.</p> + +<p>Trevor pondered.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been at the school?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see.  It’ll be five years +at the end of the summer term.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, then you wouldn’t +remember.  I’ve been here a couple of terms +longer than you, and the row about the League was in +my first term.”</p> + +<p>“What was the row?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, only some chaps formed +a sort of secret society in the place.  Kind of +Vehmgericht, you know.  If they got their knife +into any one, he usually got beans, and could never +find out where they came from.  At first, as a +matter of fact, the thing was quite a philanthropical +concern.  There used to be a good deal of bullying +in the place then—­at least, in some of +the houses—­and, as the prefects couldn’t +or wouldn’t stop it, some fellows started this +League.”</p> + +<p>“Did it work?”</p> + +<p>“Work!  By Jove, I should +think it did.  Chaps who previously couldn’t +get through the day without making some wretched kid’s +life not worth living used to go about as nervous +as cats, looking over their shoulders every other +second.  There was one man in particular, a chap +called Leigh.  He was hauled out of bed one night, +blindfolded, and ducked in a cold bath.  He was +in the School House.”</p> + +<p>“Why did the League bust up?”</p> + +<p>“Well, partly because the fellows +left, but chiefly because they didn’t stick +to the philanthropist idea.  If anybody did anything +they didn’t like, they used to go for him.  +At last they put their foot into it badly.  A +chap called Robinson—­in this house by the +way—­offended them in some way, and one +morning he was found tied up in the bath, up to his +neck in cold water.  Apparently he’d been +there about an hour.  He got pneumonia, and almost +died, and then the authorities began to get going.  +Robinson thought he had recognised the voice of one +of the chaps—­I forget his name.  The +chap was had up by the Old Man, and gave the show +away entirely.  About a dozen fellows were sacked, +clean off the reel.  Since then the thing has +been dropped.”</p> + +<p>“But what about it?  What were you going +to say when you came in?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s been revived!”</p> + +<p>“Rot!”</p> + +<p>“It’s a fact.  Do you know Mill, a +prefect, in Seymour’s?”</p> + +<p>“Only by sight.”</p> + +<p>“I met him just now.  He’s +in a raving condition.  His study’s been +wrecked.  You never saw such a sight.  Everything +upside down or smashed.  He has been showing me +the ruins.”</p> + +<p>“I believe Mill is awfully barred +in Seymour’s,” said Trevor.  “Anybody +might have ragged his study.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I thought.  +He’s just the sort of man the League used to +go for.”</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t prove that +it’s been revived, all the same,” objected +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“No, friend; but this does.  +Mill found it tied to a chair.”</p> + +<p>It was a small card.  It looked +like an ordinary visiting card.  On it, in neat +print, were the words, “<i>With the compliments +of the League</i>”.</p> + +<p>“That’s exactly the same +sort of card as they used to use,” said Clowes.  +“I’ve seen some of them.  What do you +think of that?”</p> + +<p>“I think whoever has started +the thing is a pretty average-sized idiot.  He’s +bound to get caught some time or other, and then out +he goes.  The Old Man wouldn’t think twice +about sacking a chap of that sort.”</p> + +<p>“A chap of that sort,” +said Clowes, “will take jolly good care he isn’t +caught.  But it’s rather sport, isn’t +it?”</p> + +<p>And he went off to his study.</p> + +<p>Next day there was further evidence +that the League was an actual going concern.  +When Trevor came down to breakfast, he found a letter +by his plate.  It was printed, as the card had +been.  It was signed “The President of the +League.”  And the purport of it was that +the League did not wish Barry to continue to play +for the first fifteen.</p> + +<h2>V</h2> + +<h2>MILL RECEIVES VISITORS</h2> + +<p>Trevor’s first idea was that +somebody had sent the letter for a joke,—­Clowes +for choice.</p> + +<p>He sounded him on the subject after breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Did you send me that letter?” +he inquired, when Clowes came into his study to borrow +a <i>Sportsman</i>.</p> + +<p>“What letter?  Did you send +the team for tomorrow up to the sporter?  I wonder +what sort of a lot the Town are bringing.”</p> + +<p>“About not giving Barry his footer colours?”</p> + +<p>Clowes was reading the paper.</p> + +<p>“Giving whom?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Barry.  Can’t you listen?”</p> + +<p>“Giving him what?”</p> + +<p>“Footer colours.”</p> + +<p>“What about them?”</p> + +<p>Trevor sprang at the paper, and tore +it away from him.  After which he sat on the fragments.</p> + +<p>“Did you send me a letter about not giving Barry +his footer colours?”</p> + +<p>Clowes surveyed him with the air of +a nurse to whom the family baby has just said some +more than usually good thing.</p> + +<p>“Don’t stop,” he said, “I +could listen all day.”</p> + +<p>Trevor felt in his pocket for the +note, and flung it at him.  Clowes picked it up, +and read it gravely.</p> + +<p>“What <i>are</i> footer colours?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Trevor, “it’s +a pretty rotten sort of joke, whoever sent it.  +You haven’t said yet whether you did or not.”</p> + +<p>“What earthly reason should +I have for sending it?  And I think you’re +making a mistake if you think this is meant as a joke.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t really believe this League +rot?”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t see Mill’s +study ‘after treatment’.  I did.  +Anyhow, how do you account for the card I showed you?”</p> + +<p>“But that sort of thing doesn’t happen +at school.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it <i>has</i> happened, you see.”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think did send the letter, then?”</p> + +<p>“The President of the League.”</p> + +<p>“And who the dickens is the President of the +League when he’s at home?”</p> + +<p>“If I knew that, I should tell +Mill, and earn his blessing.  Not that I want +it.”</p> + +<p>“Then, I suppose,” snorted +Trevor, “you’d suggest that on the strength +of this letter I’d better leave Barry out of +the team?”</p> + +<p>“Satirically in brackets,” commented Clowes.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good your jumping +on <i>me</i>,” he added.  “I’ve +done nothing.  All I suggest is that you’d +better keep more or less of a look-out.  If this +League’s anything like the old one, you’ll +find they’ve all sorts of ways of getting at +people they don’t love.  I shouldn’t +like to come down for a bath some morning, and find +you already in possession, tied up like Robinson.  +When they found Robinson, he was quite blue both as +to the face and speech.  He didn’t speak +very clearly, but what one could catch was well worth +hearing.  I should advise you to sleep with a +loaded revolver under your pillow.”</p> + +<p>“The first thing I shall do is find out who +wrote this letter.”</p> + +<p>“I should,” said Clowes, encouragingly.  +“Keep moving.”</p> + +<p>In Seymour’s house the Mill’s +study incident formed the only theme of conversation +that morning.  Previously the sudden elevation +to the first fifteen of Barry, who was popular in +the house, at the expense of Rand-Brown, who was unpopular, +had given Seymour’s something to talk about.  +But the ragging of the study put this topic entirely +in the shade.  The study was still on view in +almost its original condition of disorder, and all +day comparative strangers flocked to see Mill in his +den, in order to inspect things.  Mill was a youth +with few friends, and it is probable that more of +his fellow-Seymourites crossed the threshold of his +study on the day after the occurrence than had visited +him in the entire course of his school career.  +Brown would come in to borrow a knife, would sweep +the room with one comprehensive glance, and depart, +to be followed at brief intervals by Smith, Robinson, +and Jones, who came respectively to learn the right +time, to borrow a book, and to ask him if he had seen +a pencil anywhere.  Towards the end of the day, +Mill would seem to have wearied somewhat of the proceedings, +as was proved when Master Thomas Renford, aged fourteen +(who fagged for Milton, the head of the house), burst +in on the thin pretence that he had mistaken the study +for that of his rightful master, and gave vent to a +prolonged whistle of surprise and satisfaction at +the sight of the ruins.  On that occasion, the +incensed owner of the dismantled study, taking a mean +advantage of the fact that he was a prefect, and so +entitled to wield the rod, produced a handy swagger-stick +from an adjacent corner, and, inviting Master Renford +to bend over, gave him six of the best to remember +him by.  Which ceremony being concluded, he kicked +him out into the passage, and Renford went down to +the junior day-room to tell his friend Harvey about +it.</p> + +<p>“Gave me six, the cad,” +said he, “just because I had a look at his beastly +study.  Why shouldn’t I look at his study +if I like?  I’ve a jolly good mind to go +up and have another squint.”</p> + +<p>Harvey warmly approved the scheme.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think I will,” +said Renford with a yawn.  “It’s such +a fag going upstairs.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, isn’t it?” said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“And he’s such a beast, too.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, isn’t he?” said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“I’m jolly glad his study +<i>has</i> been ragged,” continued the vindictive +Renford.</p> + +<p>“It’s jolly exciting, +isn’t it?” added Harvey.  “And +I thought this term was going to be slow.  The +Easter term generally is.”</p> + +<p>This remark seemed to suggest a train +of thought to Renford, who made the following cryptic +observation.  “Have you seen them today?”</p> + +<p>To the ordinary person the words would +have conveyed little meaning.  To Harvey they +appeared to teem with import.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “I saw them early +this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Were they all right?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Splendid.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Renford.</p> + +<p>Barry’s friend Drummond was +one of those who had visited the scene of the disaster +early, before Mill’s energetic hand had repaired +the damage done, and his narrative was consequently +in some demand.</p> + +<p>“The place was in a frightful +muck,” he said.  “Everything smashed +except the table; and ink all over the place.  +Whoever did it must have been fairly sick with him, +or he’d never have taken the trouble to do it +so thoroughly.  Made a fair old hash of things, +didn’t he, Bertie?”</p> + +<p>“Bertie” was the form +in which the school elected to serve up the name of +De Bertini.  Raoul de Bertini was a French boy +who had come to Wrykyn in the previous term.  +Drummond’s father had met his father in Paris, +and Drummond was supposed to be looking after Bertie.  +They shared a study together.  Bertie could not +speak much English, and what he did speak was, like +Mill’s furniture, badly broken.</p> + +<p>“Pardon?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Doesn’t matter,” +said Drummond, “it wasn’t anything important.  +I was only appealing to you for corroborative detail +to give artistic verisimilitude to a bald and unconvincing +narrative.”</p> + +<p>Bertie grinned politely.  He always +grinned when he was not quite equal to the intellectual +pressure of the conversation.  As a consequence +of which, he was generally, like Mrs Fezziwig, one +vast, substantial smile.</p> + +<p>“I never liked Mill much,” +said Barry, “but I think it’s rather bad +luck on the man.”</p> + +<p>“Once,” announced M’Todd, +solemnly, “he kicked me—­for making +a row in the passage.”  It was plain that +the recollection rankled.</p> + +<p>Barry would probably have pointed +out what an excellent and praiseworthy act on Mill’s +part that had been, when Rand-Brown came in.</p> + +<p>“Prefects’ meeting?” +he inquired.  “Or haven’t they made +you a prefect yet, M’Todd?”</p> + +<p>M’Todd said they had not.</p> + +<p>Nobody present liked Rand-Brown, and +they looked at him rather inquiringly, as if to ask +what he had come for.  A friend may drop in for +a chat.  An acquaintance must justify his intrusion.</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown ignored the silent inquiry.  +He seated himself on the table, and dragged up a chair +to rest his legs on.</p> + +<p>“Talking about Mill, of course?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Drummond.  “Have +you seen his study since it happened?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown smiled, as if the recollection +amused him.  He was one of those people who do +not look their best when they smile.</p> + +<p>“Playing for the first tomorrow, Barry?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Barry, shortly.  +“I haven’t seen the list.”</p> + +<p>He objected to the introduction of +the topic.  It is never pleasant to have to discuss +games with the very man one has ousted from the team.</p> + +<p>Drummond, too, seemed to feel that +the situation was an embarrassing one, for a few minutes +later he got up to go over to the gymnasium.</p> + +<p>“Any of you chaps coming?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Barry and M’Todd thought they would, and the +three left the room.</p> + +<p>“Nothing like showing a man +you don’t want him, eh, Bertie?  What do +you think?” said Rand-Brown.</p> + +<p>Bertie grinned politely.</p> + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<h2>TREVOR REMAINS FIRM</h2> + +<p>The most immediate effect of telling +anybody not to do a thing is to make him do it, in +order to assert his independence.  Trevor’s +first act on receipt of the letter was to include +Barry in the team against the Town.  It was what +he would have done in any case, but, under the circumstances, +he felt a peculiar pleasure in doing it.  The incident +also had the effect of recalling to his mind the fact +that he had tried Barry in the first instance on his +own responsibility, without consulting the committee.  +The committee of the first fifteen consisted of the +two old colours who came immediately after the captain +on the list.  The powers of a committee varied +according to the determination and truculence of the +members of it.  On any definite and important +step, affecting the welfare of the fifteen, the captain +theoretically could not move without their approval.  +But if the captain happened to be strong-minded and +the committee weak, they were apt to be slightly out +of it, and the captain would develop a habit of consulting +them a day or so after he had done a thing.  He +would give a man his colours, and inform the committee +of it on the following afternoon, when the thing was +done and could not be repealed.</p> + +<p>Trevor was accustomed to ask the advice +of his lieutenants fairly frequently.  He never +gave colours, for instance, off his own bat.  It +seemed to him that it might be as well to learn what +views Milton and Allardyce had on the subject of Barry, +and, after the Town team had gone back across the +river, defeated by a goal and a try to nil, he changed +and went over to Seymour’s to interview Milton.</p> + +<p>Milton was in an arm-chair, watching +Renford brew tea.  His was one of the few studies +in the school in which there was an arm-chair.  +With the majority of his contemporaries, it would +only run to the portable kind that fold up.</p> + +<p>“Come and have some tea, Trevor,” said +Milton.</p> + +<p>“Thanks.  If there’s any going.”</p> + +<p>“Heaps.  Is there anything to eat, Renford?”</p> + +<p>The fag, appealed to on this important +point, pondered darkly for a moment.</p> + +<p>“There <i>was</i> some cake,” he said.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” +interrupted Milton, cheerfully.  “Scratch +the cake.  I ate it before the match.  Isn’t +there anything else?”</p> + +<p>Milton had a healthy appetite.</p> + +<p>“Then there used to be some biscuits.”</p> + +<p>“Biscuits are off.  I finished +’em yesterday.  Look here, young Renford, +what you’d better do is cut across to the shop +and get some more cake and some more biscuits, and +tell ’em to put it down to me.  And don’t +be long.”</p> + +<p>“A miles better idea would be +to send him over to Donaldson’s to fetch something +from my study,” suggested Trevor.  “It +isn’t nearly so far, and I’ve got heaps +of stuff.”</p> + +<p>“Ripping.  Cut over to Donaldson’s, +young Renford.  As a matter of fact,” he +added, confidentially, when the emissary had vanished, +“I’m not half sure that the other dodge +would have worked.  They seem to think at the +shop that I’ve had about enough things on tick +lately.  I haven’t settled up for last term +yet.  I’ve spent all I’ve got on this +study.  What do you think of those photographs?”</p> + +<p>Trevor got up and inspected them.  +They filled the mantelpiece and most of the wall above +it.  They were exclusively theatrical photographs, +and of a variety to suit all tastes.  For the +earnest student of the drama there was Sir Henry Irving +in <i>The Bells</i>, and Mr Martin Harvey in <i>The +Only Way.</i> For the admirers of the merely beautiful +there were Messrs Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell.</p> + +<p>“Not bad,” said Trevor.  “Beastly +waste of money.”</p> + +<p>“Waste of money!” Milton +was surprised and pained at the criticism.  “Why, +you must spend your money on <i>something."</i></p> + +<p>“Rot, I call it,” said +Trevor.  “If you want to collect something, +why don’t you collect something worth having?”</p> + +<p>Just then Renford came back with the supplies.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Milton, +“put ’em down.  Does the billy boil, +young Renford?”</p> + +<p>Renford asked for explanatory notes.</p> + +<p>“You’re a bit of an ass +at times, aren’t you?” said Milton, kindly.  +“What I meant was, is the tea ready?  If +it is, you can scoot.  If it isn’t, buck +up with it.”</p> + +<p>A sound of bubbling and a rush of +steam from the spout of the kettle proclaimed that +the billy did boil.  Renford extinguished the Etna, +and left the room, while Milton, murmuring vague formulae +about “one spoonful for each person and one +for the pot”, got out of his chair with a groan—­for +the Town match had been an energetic one—­and +began to prepare tea.</p> + +<p>“What I really came round about—­” +began Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Half a second.  I can’t find the +milk.”</p> + +<p>He went to the door, and shouted for +Renford.  On that overworked youth’s appearance, +the following dialogue took place.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the milk?”</p> + +<p>“What milk?”</p> + +<p>“My milk.”</p> + +<p>“There isn’t any.”  +This in a tone not untinged with triumph, as if the +speaker realised that here was a distinct score to +him.</p> + +<p>“No milk?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“You never had any.”</p> + +<p>“Well, just cut across—­no, +half a second.  What are you doing downstairs?”</p> + +<p>“Having tea.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ve got milk.”</p> + +<p>“Only a little.”  This apprehensively.</p> + +<p>“Bring it up.  You can have what we leave.”</p> + +<p>Disgusted retirement of Master Renford.</p> + +<p>“What I really came about,” said Trevor +again, “was business.”</p> + +<p>“Colours?” inquired Milton, +rummaging in the tin for biscuits with sugar on them.  +“Good brand of biscuit you keep, Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I think we might give Alexander and +Parker their third.”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Any others?”</p> + +<p>“Barry his second, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“Rather.  He played a good +game today.  He’s an improvement on Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Glad you think so.  I was +wondering whether it was the right thing to do, chucking +Rand-Brown out after one trial like that.  But +still, if you think Barry’s better—­”</p> + +<p>“Streets better.  I’ve +had heaps of chances of watching them and comparing +them, when they’ve been playing for the house.  +It isn’t only that Rand-Brown can’t tackle, +and Barry can.  Barry takes his passes much better, +and doesn’t lose his head when he’s pressed.”</p> + +<p>“Just what I thought,” +said Trevor.  “Then you’d go on playing +him for the first?”</p> + +<p>“Rather.  He’ll get +better every game, you’ll see, as he gets more +used to playing in the first three-quarter line.  +And he’s as keen as anything on getting into +the team.  Practises taking passes and that sort +of thing every day.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’ll get his colours if we lick +Ripton.”</p> + +<p>“We ought to lick them.  +They’ve lost one of their forwards, Clifford, +a red-haired chap, who was good out of touch.  +I don’t know if you remember him.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I ought to go and +see Allardyce about these colours, now.  Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>There was running and passing on the +Monday for every one in the three teams.  Trevor +and Clowes met Mr Seymour as they were returning.  +Mr Seymour was the football master at Wrykyn.</p> + +<p>“I see you’ve given Barry his second, +Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I think you’re wise to +play him for the first.  He knows the game, which +is the great thing, and he will improve with practice,” +said Mr Seymour, thus corroborating Milton’s +words of the previous Saturday.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad Seymour thinks +Barry good,” said Trevor, as they walked on.  +“I shall go on playing him now.”</p> + +<p>“Found out who wrote that letter yet?”</p> + +<p>Trevor laughed.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Probably Rand-Brown,” +suggested Clowes.  “He’s the man who +would gain most by Barry’s not playing.  +I hear he had a row with Mill just before his study +was ragged.”</p> + +<p>“Everybody in Seymour’s +has had rows with Mill some time or other,” +said Trevor.</p> + +<p>Clowes stopped at the door of the +junior day-room to find his fag.  Trevor went +on upstairs.  In the passage he met Ruthven.</p> + +<p>Ruthven seemed excited.</p> + +<p>“I say.  Trevor,” he exclaimed, “have +you seen your study?”</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter with it?”</p> + +<p>“You’d better go and look.”</p> + +<h2>VII</h2> + +<h2>“WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE”</h2> + +<p>Trevor went and looked.</p> + +<p>It was rather an interesting sight.  +An earthquake or a cyclone might have made it a little +more picturesque, but not much more.  The general +effect was not unlike that of an American saloon, after +a visit from Mrs Carrie Nation (with hatchet).  +As in the case of Mill’s study, the only thing +that did not seem to have suffered any great damage +was the table.  Everything else looked rather +off colour.  The mantelpiece had been swept as +bare as a bone, and its contents littered the floor.  +Trevor dived among the debris and retrieved the latest +addition to his art gallery, the photograph of this +year’s first fifteen.  It was a wreck.  +The glass was broken and the photograph itself slashed +with a knife till most of the faces were unrecognisable.  +He picked up another treasure, last year’s first +eleven.  Smashed glass again.  Faces cut about +with knife as before.  His collection of snapshots +was torn into a thousand fragments, though, as Mr +Jerome said of the <i>papier</i>-<i>mâche</i> trout, there +may only have been nine hundred.  He did not count +them.  His bookshelf was empty.  The books +had gone to swell the contents of the floor.  +There was a Shakespeare with its cover off.  Pages +twenty-two to thirty-one of <i>Vice Versa</i> had parted +from the parent establishment, and were lying by themselves +near the door. <i>The Rogues’ March</i> lay +just beyond them, and the look of the cover suggested +that somebody had either been biting it or jumping +on it with heavy boots.</p> + +<p>There was other damage.  Over +the mantelpiece in happier days had hung a dozen sea +gulls’ eggs, threaded on a string.  The string +was still there, as good as new, but of the eggs nothing +was to be seen, save a fine parti-coloured powder—­on +the floor, like everything else in the study.  +And a good deal of ink had been upset in one place +and another.</p> + +<p>Trevor had been staring at the ruins +for some time, when he looked up to see Clowes standing +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Clowes, “been tidying +up?”</p> + +<p>Trevor made a few hasty comments on +the situation.  Clowes listened approvingly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think,” +he went on, eyeing the study with a critical air, +“that you’ve got too many things on the +floor, and too few anywhere else?  And I should +move some of those books on to the shelf, if I were +you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor breathed very hard.</p> + +<p>“I should like to find the chap who did this,” +he said softly.</p> + +<p>Clowes advanced into the room and +proceeded to pick up various misplaced articles of +furniture in a helpful way.</p> + +<p>“I thought so,” he said presently, “come +and look here.”</p> + +<p>Tied to a chair, exactly as it had +been in the case of Mill, was a neat white card, and +on it were the words, <i>"With the Compliments of the +League".</i></p> + +<p>“What are you going to do about +this?” asked Clowes.  “Come into my +room and talk it over.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tidy this place +up first,” said Trevor.  He felt that the +work would be a relief.  “I don’t +want people to see this.  It mustn’t get +about.  I’m not going to have my study turned +into a sort of side-show, like Mill’s.  +You go and change.  I shan’t be long.”</p> + +<p>“I will never desert Mr Micawber,” +said Clowes.  “Friend, my place is by your +side.  Shut the door and let’s get to work.”</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the room had resumed +a more or less—­though principally less—­normal +appearance.  The books and chairs were back in +their places.  The ink was sopped up.  The +broken photographs were stacked in a neat pile in +one corner, with a rug over them.  The mantelpiece +was still empty, but, as Clowes pointed out, it now +merely looked as if Trevor had been pawning some of +his household gods.  There was no sign that a +devastating secret society had raged through the study.</p> + +<p>Then they adjourned to Clowes’ +study, where Trevor sank into Clowes’ second-best +chair—­Clowes, by an adroit movement, having +appropriated the best one—­with a sigh of +enjoyment.  Running and passing, followed by the +toil of furniture-shifting, had made him feel quite +tired.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t look so bad +now,” he said, thinking of the room they had +left.  “By the way, what did you do with +that card?”</p> + +<p>“Here it is.  Want it?”</p> + +<p>“You can keep it.  I don’t want it.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks.  If this sort of +things goes on, I shall get quite a nice collection +of these cards.  Start an album some day.”</p> + +<p>“You know,” said Trevor, “this is +getting serious.”</p> + +<p>“It always does get serious +when anything bad happens to one’s self.  +It always strikes one as rather funny when things +happen to other people.  When Mill’s study +was wrecked, I bet you regarded it as an amusing and +original ‘turn’.  What do you think +of the present effort?”</p> + +<p>“Who on earth can have done it?”</p> + +<p>“The Pres—­”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dry up.  Of course it was.  But +who the blazes is he?”</p> + +<p>“Nay, children, you have me +there,” quoted Clowes.  “I’ll +tell you one thing, though.  You remember what +I said about it’s probably being Rand-Brown.  +He can’t have done this, that’s certain, +because he was out in the fields the whole time.  +Though I don’t see who else could have anything +to gain by Barry not getting his colours.”</p> + +<p>“There’s no reason to +suspect him at all, as far as I can see.  I don’t +know much about him, bar the fact that he can’t +play footer for nuts, but I’ve never heard anything +against him.  Have you?”</p> + +<p>“I scarcely know him myself.  He isn’t +liked in Seymour’s, I believe.”</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow, this can’t be his work.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I said.”</p> + +<p>“For all we know, the League +may have got their knife into Barry for some reason.  +You said they used to get their knife into fellows +in that way.  Anyhow, I mean to find out who ragged +my room.”</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said +Clowes.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>O’Hara came round to Donaldson’s +before morning school next day to tell Trevor that +he had not yet succeeded in finding the lost bat.  +He found Trevor and Clowes in the former’s den, +trying to put a few finishing touches to the same.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, an’ what’s +up with your study?” he inquired.  He was +quick at noticing things.  Trevor looked annoyed.  +Clowes asked the visitor if he did not think the study +presented a neat and gentlemanly appearance.</p> + +<p>“Where are all your photographs, +Trevor?” persisted the descendant of Irish kings.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good trying to +conceal anything from the bhoy,” said Clowes.  +“Sit down, O’Hara—­mind that +chair; it’s rather wobbly—­and I will +tell ye the story.”</p> + +<p>“Can you keep a thing dark?” inquired +Trevor.</p> + +<p>O’Hara protested that tombs were not in it.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, do you remember +what happened to Mill’s study?  That’s +what’s been going on here.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara nearly fell off his chair +with surprise.  That some philanthropist should +rag Mill’s study was only to be expected.  +Mill was one of the worst.  A worm without a saving +grace.  But Trevor!  Captain of football!  +In the first eleven!  The thing was unthinkable.</p> + +<p>“But who—?” he began.</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I want +to know,” said Trevor, shortly.  He did not +enjoy discussing the affair.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been at Wrykyn, O’Hara?” +said Clowes.</p> + +<p>O’Hara made a rapid calculation.  +His fingers twiddled in the air as he worked out the +problem.</p> + +<p>“Six years,” he said at +last, leaning back exhausted with brain work.</p> + +<p>“Then you must remember the League?”</p> + +<p>“Remember the League?  Rather.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s been revived.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara whistled.</p> + +<p>“This’ll liven the old +place up,” he said.  “I’ve often +thought of reviving it meself.  An’ so has +Moriarty.  If it’s anything like the Old +League, there’s going to be a sort of Donnybrook +before it’s done with.  I wonder who’s +running it this time.”</p> + +<p>“We should like to know that.  If you find +out, you might tell us.”</p> + +<p>“I will.”</p> + +<p>“And don’t tell anybody +else,” said Trevor.  “This business +has got to be kept quiet.  Keep it dark about +my study having been ragged.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t tell a soul.”</p> + +<p>“Not even Moriarty.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hang it, man,” put +in Clowes, “you don’t want to kill the +poor bhoy, surely?  You must let him tell one +person.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Trevor, +“you can tell Moriarty.  But nobody else, +mind.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara promised that Moriarty should receive +the news exclusively.</p> + +<p>“But why did the League go for ye?”</p> + +<p>“They happen to be down on me.  It doesn’t +matter why.  They are.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said O’Hara.  +“Oh,” he added, “about that bat.  +The search is being ’vigorously prosecuted’—­that’s +a newspaper quotation—­”</p> + +<p>“Times?” inquired Clowes.</p> + +<p>“<i>Wrykyn Patriot</i>,” +said O’Hara, pulling out a bundle of letters.  +He inspected each envelope in turn, and from the fifth +extracted a newspaper cutting.</p> + +<p>“Read that,” he said.</p> + +<p>It was from the local paper, and ran as follows:—­</p> + +<p>“<i>Hooligan Outrage</i>—­A +painful sensation has been caused in the town by a +deplorable ebullition of local Hooliganism, which has +resulted in the wanton disfigurement of the splendid +statue of Sir Eustace Briggs which stands in the New +Recreation Grounds.  Our readers will recollect +that the statue was erected to commemorate the return +of Sir Eustace as member for the borough of Wrykyn, +by an overwhelming majority, at the last election.  +Last Tuesday some youths of the town, passing through +the Recreation Grounds early in the morning, noticed +that the face and body of the statue were completely +covered with leaves and some black substance, which +on examination proved to be tar.  They speedily +lodged information at the police station.  Everything +seems to point to party spite as the motive for the +outrage.  In view of the forth-coming election, +such an act is highly significant, and will serve +sufficiently to indicate the tactics employed by our +opponents.  The search for the perpetrator (or +perpetrators) of the dastardly act is being vigorously +prosecuted, and we learn with satisfaction that the +police have already several clues.”</p> + +<p>“Clues!” said Clowes, +handing back the paper, “that means <i>the bat</i>.  +That gas about ‘our opponents’ is all a +blind to put you off your guard.  You wait.  +There’ll be more painful sensations before you’ve +finished with this business.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t have found +the bat, or why did they not say so?” observed +O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Guile,” said Clowes, +“pure guile.  If I were you, I should escape +while I could.  Try Callao.  There’s +no extradition there.</p> + +<p>    ’On no petition<br /> +     Is extradition<br /> +     Allowed in Callao.’</p> + +<p>Either of you chaps coming over to school?”</p> + +<h2>VIII</h2> + +<h2>O’HARA ON THE TRACK</h2> + +<p>Tuesday mornings at Wrykyn were devoted—­up +to the quarter to eleven interval—­to the +study of mathematics.  That is to say, instead +of going to their form-rooms, the various forms visited +the out-of-the-way nooks and dens at the top of the +buildings where the mathematical masters were wont +to lurk, and spent a pleasant two hours there playing +round games or reading fiction under the desk.  +Mathematics being one of the few branches of school +learning which are of any use in after life, nobody +ever dreamed of doing any work in that direction, least +of all O’Hara.  It was a theory of O’Hara’s +that he came to school to enjoy himself.  To have +done any work during a mathematics lesson would have +struck him as a positive waste of time, especially +as he was in Mr Banks’ class.  Mr Banks +was a master who simply cried out to be ragged.  +Everything he did and said seemed to invite the members +of his class to amuse themselves, and they amused +themselves accordingly.  One of the advantages +of being under him was that it was possible to predict +to a nicety the moment when one would be sent out +of the room.  This was found very convenient.</p> + +<p>O’Hara’s ally, Moriarty, +was accustomed to take his mathematics with Mr Morgan, +whose room was directly opposite Mr Banks’.  +With Mr Morgan it was not quite so easy to date one’s +expulsion from the room under ordinary circumstances, +and in the normal wear and tear of the morning’s +work, but there was one particular action which could +always be relied upon to produce the desired result.</p> + +<p>In one corner of the room stood a +gigantic globe.  The problem—­how did +it get into the room?—­was one that had exercised +the minds of many generations of Wrykinians.  +It was much too big to have come through the door.  +Some thought that the block had been built round it, +others that it had been placed in the room in infancy, +and had since grown.  To refer the question to +Mr Morgan would, in six cases out of ten, mean instant +departure from the room.  But to make the event +certain, it was necessary to grasp the globe firmly +and spin it round on its axis.  That always proved +successful.  Mr Morgan would dash down from his +dais, address the offender in spirited terms, and +give him his marching orders at once and without further +trouble.</p> + +<p>Moriarty had arranged with O’Hara +to set the globe rolling at ten sharp on this particular +morning.  O’Hara would then so arrange matters +with Mr Banks that they could meet in the passage +at that hour, when O’Hara wished to impart to +his friend his information concerning the League.</p> + +<p>O’Hara promised to be at the +trysting-place at the hour mentioned.</p> + +<p>He did not think there would be any +difficulty about it.  The news that the League +had been revived meant that there would be trouble +in the very near future, and the prospect of trouble +was meat and drink to the Irishman in O’Hara.  +Consequently he felt in particularly good form for +mathematics (as he interpreted the word).  He thought +that he would have no difficulty whatever in keeping +Mr Banks bright and amused.  The first step had +to be to arouse in him an interest in life, to bring +him into a frame of mind which would induce him to +look severely rather than leniently on the next offender.  +This was effected as follows:—­</p> + +<p>It was Mr Banks’ practice to +set his class sums to work out, and, after some three-quarters +of an hour had elapsed, to pass round the form what +he called “solutions”.  These were +large sheets of paper, on which he had worked out +each sum in his neat handwriting to a happy ending.  +When the head of the form, to whom they were passed +first, had finished with them, he would make a slight +tear in one corner, and, having done so, hand them +on to his neighbour.  The neighbour, before giving +them to <i>his</i> neighbour, would also tear them +slightly.  In time they would return to their +patentee and proprietor, and it was then that things +became exciting.</p> + +<p>“Who tore these solutions like +this?” asked Mr Banks, in the repressed voice +of one who is determined that he <i>will</i> be calm.</p> + +<p>No answer.  The tattered solutions waved in the +air.</p> + +<p>He turned to Harringay, the head of the form.</p> + +<p>“Harringay, did you tear these solutions like +this?”</p> + +<p>Indignant negative from Harringay.  +What he had done had been to make the small tear in +the top left-hand corner.  If Mr Banks had asked, +“Did you make this small tear in the top left-hand +corner of these solutions?” Harringay would +have scorned to deny the impeachment.  But to +claim the credit for the whole work would, he felt, +be an act of flat dishonesty, and an injustice to +his gifted <i>collaborateurs.</i></p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Harringay.</p> + +<p>“Browne!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Did you tear these solutions in this manner?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>And so on through the form.</p> + +<p>Then Harringay rose after the manner +of the debater who is conscious that he is going to +say the popular thing.</p> + +<p>“Sir—­” he began.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Harringay.”</p> + +<p>Harringay gracefully waved aside the absurd command.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” he said, “I +think I am expressing the general consensus of opinion +among my—­ahem—­fellow-students, +when I say that this class sincerely regrets the unfortunate +state the solutions have managed to get themselves +into.”</p> + +<p>“Hear, hear!” from a back bench.</p> + +<p>“It is with—­”</p> + +<p>“Sit <i>down</i>, Harringay.”</p> + +<p>“It is with heartfelt—­”</p> + +<p>“Harringay, if you do not sit down—­”</p> + +<p>“As your ludship pleases.”  This <i>sotto +voce</i>.</p> + +<p>And Harringay resumed his seat amidst applause.  +O’Hara got up.</p> + +<p>“As me frind who has just sat down was about +to observe—­”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, O’Hara.  The whole form +will remain after the class.”</p> + +<p>“—­the unfortunate +state the solutions have managed to get thimsilves +into is sincerely regretted by this class.  Sir, +I think I am ixprissing the general consensus of opinion +among my fellow-students whin I say that it is with +heart-felt sorrow—­”</p> + +<p>“O’Hara!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Leave the room instantly.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>From the tower across the gravel came +the melodious sound of chimes.  The college clock +was beginning to strike ten.  He had scarcely got +into the passage, and closed the door after him, when +a roar as of a bereaved spirit rang through the room +opposite, followed by a string of words, the only +intelligible one being the noun-substantive “globe”, +and the next moment the door opened and Moriarty came +out.  The last stroke of ten was just booming +from the clock.</p> + +<p>There was a large cupboard in the +passage, the top of which made a very comfortable +seat.  They climbed on to this, and began to talk +business.</p> + +<p>“An’ what was it ye wanted to tell me?” +inquired Moriarty.</p> + +<p>O’Hara related what he had learned from Trevor +that morning.</p> + +<p>“An’ do ye know,” +said Moriarty, when he had finished, “I half +suspected, when I heard that Mill’s study had +been ragged, that it might be the League that had +done it.  If ye remember, it was what they enjoyed +doing, breaking up a man’s happy home.  They +did it frequently.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t understand them doing it +to Trevor at all.”</p> + +<p>“They’ll do it to anybody they choose +till they’re caught at it.”</p> + +<p>“If they are caught, there’ll be a row.”</p> + +<p>“We must catch ’em,” +said Moriarty.  Like O’Hara, he revelled +in the prospect of a disturbance.  O’Hara +and he were going up to Aldershot at the end of the +term, to try and bring back the light and middle-weight +medals respectively.  Moriarty had won the light-weight +in the previous year, but, by reason of putting on +a stone since the competition, was now no longer eligible +for that class.  O’Hara had not been up before, +but the Wrykyn instructor, a good judge of pugilistic +form, was of opinion that he ought to stand an excellent +chance.  As the prize-fighter in <i>Rodney Stone</i> +says, “When you get a good Irishman, you can’t +better ’em, but they’re dreadful ’<i>asty</i>.”  +O’Hara was attending the gymnasium every night, +in order to learn to curb his “dreadful ’astiness”, +and acquire skill in its place.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if Trevor would be any good in a row,” +said Moriarty.</p> + +<p>“He can’t box,” +said O’Hara, “but he’d go on till +he was killed entirely.  I say, I’m getting +rather tired of sitting here, aren’t you?  +Let’s go to the other end of the passage and +have some cricket.”</p> + +<p>So, having unearthed a piece of wood +from the debris at the top of the cupboard, and rolled +a handkerchief into a ball, they adjourned.</p> + +<p>Recalling the stirring events of six +years back, when the League had first been started, +O’Hara remembered that the members of that enterprising +society had been wont to hold meetings in a secluded +spot, where it was unlikely that they would be disturbed.  +It seemed to him that the first thing he ought to +do, if he wanted to make their nearer acquaintance +now, was to find their present rendezvous.  They +must have one.  They would never run the risk +involved in holding mass-meetings in one another’s +studies.  On the last occasion, it had been an +old quarry away out on the downs.  This had been +proved by the not-to-be-shaken testimony of three +school-house fags, who had wandered out one half-holiday +with the unconcealed intention of finding the League’s +place of meeting.  Unfortunately for them, they +<i>had</i> found it.  They were going down the +path that led to the quarry before-mentioned, when +they were unexpectedly seized, blindfolded, and carried +off.  An impromptu court-martial was held—­in +whispers—­and the three explorers forthwith +received the most spirited “touching-up” +they had ever experienced.  Afterwards they were +released, and returned to their house with their zeal +for detection quite quenched.  The episode had +created a good deal of excitement in the school at +the time.</p> + +<p>On three successive afternoons, O’Hara +and Moriarty scoured the downs, and on each occasion +they drew blank.  On the fourth day, just before +lock-up, O’Hara, who had been to tea with Gregson, +of Day’s, was going over to the gymnasium to +keep a pugilistic appointment with Moriarty, when +somebody ran swiftly past him in the direction of the +boarding-houses.  It was almost dark, for the days +were still short, and he did not recognise the runner.  +But it puzzled him a little to think where he had +sprung from.  O’Hara was walking quite close +to the wall of the College buildings, and the runner +had passed between it and him.  And he had not +heard his footsteps.  Then he understood, and his +pulse quickened as he felt that he was on the track.  +Beneath the block was a large sort of cellar-basement.  +It was used as a store-room for chairs, and was never +opened except when prize-day or some similar event +occurred, when the chairs were needed.  It was +supposed to be locked at other times, but never was.  +The door was just by the spot where he was standing.  +As he stood there, half-a-dozen other vague forms dashed +past him in a knot.  One of them almost brushed +against him.  For a moment he thought of stopping +him, but decided not to.  He could wait.</p> + +<p>On the following afternoon he slipped +down into the basement soon after school.  It +was as black as pitch in the cellar.  He took up +a position near the door.</p> + +<p>It seemed hours before anything happened.  +He was, indeed, almost giving up the thing as a bad +job, when a ray of light cut through the blackness +in front of him, and somebody slipped through the door.  +The next moment, a second form appeared dimly, and +then the light was shut off again.</p> + +<p>O’Hara could hear them groping +their way past him.  He waited no longer.  +It is difficult to tell where sound comes from in the +dark.  He plunged forward at a venture.  His +hand, swinging round in a semicircle, met something +which felt like a shoulder.  He slipped his grasp +down to the arm, and clutched it with all the force +at his disposal.</p> + +<h2>IX</h2> + +<h2>MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS</h2> + +<p>“Ow!” exclaimed the captive, +with no uncertain voice.  “Let go, you ass, +you’re hurting.”</p> + +<p>The voice was a treble voice.  +This surprised O’Hara.  It looked very much +as if he had put up the wrong bird.  From the dimensions +of the arm which he was holding, his prisoner seemed +to be of tender years.</p> + +<p>“Let go, Harvey, you idiot.  I shall kick.”</p> + +<p>Before the threat could be put into +execution, O’Hara, who had been fumbling all +this while in his pocket for a match, found one loose, +and struck a light.  The features of the owner +of the arm—­he was still holding it—­were +lit up for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s young Renford!” +he exclaimed.  “What are you doing down +here?”</p> + +<p>Renford, however, continued to pursue +the topic of his arm, and the effect that the vice-like +grip of the Irishman had had upon it.</p> + +<p>“You’ve nearly broken it,” he said, +complainingly.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry.  I mistook you for somebody +else.  Who’s that with you?”</p> + +<p>“It’s me,” said an ungrammatical +voice.</p> + +<p>“Who’s me?”</p> + +<p>“Harvey.”</p> + +<p>At this point a soft yellow light +lit up the more immediate neighbourhood.  Harvey +had brought a bicycle lamp into action.</p> + +<p>“That’s more like it,” +said Renford.  “Look here, O’Hara, +you won’t split, will you?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not an informer by profession, thanks,” +said O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know it’s all right, +really, but you can’t be too careful, because +one isn’t allowed down here, and there’d +be a beastly row if it got out about our being down +here.”</p> + +<p>“And <i>they</i> would be cobbed,” put +in Harvey.</p> + +<p>“Who are they?” asked O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Ferrets.  Like to have a look at them?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Ferrets!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Harvey brought back +a couple at the beginning of term.  Ripping little +beasts.  We couldn’t keep them in the house, +as they’d have got dropped on in a second, so +we had to think of somewhere else, and thought why +not keep them down here?”</p> + +<p>“Why, indeed?” said O’Hara.  +“Do ye find they like it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>they</i> don’t +mind,” said Harvey.  “We feed ’em +twice a day.  Once before breakfast—­we +take it in turns to get up early—­and once +directly after school.  And on half-holidays and +Sundays we take them out on to the downs.”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“Why, rabbits, of course.  +Renford brought back a saloon-pistol with him.  +We keep it locked up in a box—­don’t +tell any one.”</p> + +<p>“And what do ye do with the rabbits?”</p> + +<p>“We pot at them as they come out of the holes.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but when ye hit ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Renford, with +some reluctance, “we haven’t exactly hit +any yet.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got jolly near, +though, lots of times,” said Harvey.  “Last +Saturday I swear I wasn’t more than a quarter +of an inch off one of them.  If it had been a +decent-sized rabbit, I should have plugged it middle +stump; only it was a small one, so I missed.  But +come and see them.  We keep ’em right at +the other end of the place, in case anybody comes +in.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever seen anybody down here?” +asked O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Once,” said Renford.  +“Half-a-dozen chaps came down here once while +we were feeding the ferrets.  We waited till they’d +got well in, then we nipped out quietly.  They +didn’t see us.”</p> + +<p>“Did you see who they were?”</p> + +<p>“No.  It was too dark.  +Here they are.  Rummy old crib this, isn’t +it?  Look out for your shins on the chairs.  +Switch on the light, Harvey.  There, aren’t +they <i>rippers</i>?  Quite tame, too.  They +know us quite well.  They know they’re going +to be fed, too.  Hullo, Sir Nigel!  This is +Sir Nigel.  Out of the ‘White Company’, +you know.  Don’t let him nip your fingers.  +This other one’s Sherlock Holmes.”</p> + +<p>“Cats-s-s—­s!!” +said O’Hara.  He had a sort of idea that +that was the right thing to say to any animal that +could chase and bite.</p> + +<p>Renford was delighted to be able to +show his ferrets off to so distinguished a visitor.</p> + +<p>“What were you down here about?” +inquired Harvey, when the little animals had had their +meal, and had retired once more into private life.</p> + +<p>O’Hara had expected this question, +but he did not quite know what answer to give.  +Perhaps, on the whole, he thought, it would be best +to tell them the real reason.  If he refused to +explain, their curiosity would be roused, which would +be fatal.  And to give any reason except the true +one called for a display of impromptu invention of +which he was not capable.  Besides, they would +not be likely to give away his secret while he held +this one of theirs connected with the ferrets.  +He explained the situation briefly, and swore them +to silence on the subject.</p> + +<p>Renford’s comment was brief.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” he observed.</p> + +<p>Harvey went more deeply into the question.</p> + +<p>“What makes you think they meet down here?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“I saw some fellows cutting +out of here last night.  And you say ye’ve +seen them here, too.  I don’t see what object +they could have down here if they weren’t the +League holding a meeting.  I don’t see what +else a chap would be after.”</p> + +<p>“He might be keeping ferrets,” hazarded +Renford.</p> + +<p>“The whole school doesn’t +keep ferrets,” said O’Hara.  “You’re +unique in that way.  No, it must be the League, +an’ I mean to wait here till they come.”</p> + +<p>“Not all night?” asked +Harvey.  He had a great respect for O’Hara, +whose reputation in the school for out-of-the-way +doings was considerable.  In the bright lexicon +of O’Hara he believed there to be no such word +as “impossible.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said O’Hara, +“but till lock-up.  You two had better cut +now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think we’d better,” said +Harvey.</p> + +<p>“And don’t ye breathe +a word about this to a soul”—­a warning +which extracted fervent promises of silence from both +youths.</p> + +<p>“This,” said Harvey, as +they emerged on to the gravel, “is something +like.  I’m jolly glad we’re in it.”</p> + +<p>“Rather.  Do you think O’Hara will +catch them?”</p> + +<p>“He must if he waits down there +long enough.  They’re certain to come again.  +Don’t you wish you’d been here when the +League was on before?”</p> + +<p>“I should think I did.  +Race you over to the shop.  I want to get something +before it shuts.”</p> + +<p>“Right ho!” And they disappeared.</p> + +<p>O’Hara waited where he was till +six struck from the clock-tower, followed by the sound +of the bell as it rang for lock-up.  Then he picked +his way carefully through the groves of chairs, barking +his shins now and then on their out-turned legs, and, +pushing open the door, went out into the open air.  +It felt very fresh and pleasant after the brand of +atmosphere supplied in the vault.  He then ran +over to the gymnasium to meet Moriarty, feeling a +little disgusted at the lack of success that had attended +his detective efforts up to the present.  So far +he had nothing to show for his trouble except a good +deal of dust on his clothes, and a dirty collar, but +he was full of determination.  He could play a +waiting game.</p> + +<p>It was a pity, as it happened, that +O’Hara left the vault when he did.  Five +minutes after he had gone, six shadowy forms made their +way silently and in single file through the doorway +of the vault, which they closed carefully behind them.  +The fact that it was after lock-up was of small consequence.  +A good deal of latitude in that way was allowed at +Wrykyn.  It was the custom to go out, after the +bell had sounded, to visit the gymnasium.  In +the winter and Easter terms, the gymnasium became +a sort of social club.  People went there with +a very small intention of doing gymnastics.  They +went to lounge about, talking to cronies, in front +of the two huge stoves which warmed the place.  +Occasionally, as a concession to the look of the thing, +they would do an easy exercise or two on the horse +or parallels, but, for the most part, they preferred +the <i>rôle</i> of spectator.  There was plenty +to see.  In one corner O’Hara and Moriarty +would be sparring their nightly six rounds (in two +batches of three rounds each).  In another, Drummond, +who was going up to Aldershot as a feather-weight, +would be putting in a little practice with the instructor.  +On the apparatus, the members of the gymnastic six, +including the two experts who were to carry the school +colours to Aldershot in the spring, would be performing +their usual marvels.  It was worth dropping into +the gymnasium of an evening.  In no other place +in the school were so many sights to be seen.</p> + +<p>When you were surfeited with sightseeing, +you went off to your house.  And this was where +the peculiar beauty of the gymnasium system came in.  +You went up to any master who happened to be there—­there +was always one at least—­and observed in +suave accents, “Please, sir, can I have a paper?” +Whereupon, he, taking a scrap of paper, would write +upon it, “J.  O. Jones (or A. B. Smith or +C. D. Robinson) left gymnasium at such-and-such a +time”.  And, by presenting this to the menial +who opened the door to you at your house, you went +in rejoicing, and all was peace.</p> + +<p>Now, there was no mention on the paper +of the hour at which you came to the gymnasium—­only +of the hour at which you left.  Consequently, certain +lawless spirits would range the neighbourhood after +lock-up, and, by putting in a quarter of an hour at +the gymnasium before returning to their houses, escape +comment.  To this class belonged the shadowy forms +previously mentioned.</p> + +<p>O’Hara had forgotten this custom, +with the result that he was not at the vault when +they arrived.  Moriarty, to whom he confided between +the rounds the substance of his evening’s discoveries, +reminded him of it.  “It’s no good +watching before lock-up,” he said.  “After +six is the time they’ll come, if they come at +all.”</p> + +<p>“Bedad, ye’re right,” +said O’Hara.  “One of these nights +we’ll take a night off from boxing, and go and +watch.”</p> + +<p>“Right,” said Moriarty.  “Are +ye ready to go on?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I’m going to +practise that left swing at the body this round.  +The one Fitzsimmons does.”  And they “put +’em up” once more.</p> + +<h2>X</h2> + +<h2>BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS</h2> + +<p>On the evening following O’Hara’s +adventure in the vaults, Barry and M’Todd were +in their study, getting out the tea-things.  Most +Wrykinians brewed in the winter and Easter terms, +when the days were short and lock-up early.  In +the summer term there were other things to do—­nets, +which lasted till a quarter to seven (when lock-up +was), and the baths—­and brewing practically +ceased.  But just now it was at its height, and +every evening, at a quarter past five, there might +be heard in the houses the sizzling of the succulent +sausage and other rare delicacies.  As a rule, +one or two studies would club together to brew, instead +of preparing solitary banquets.  This was found +both more convivial and more economical.  At Seymour’s, +studies numbers five, six, and seven had always combined +from time immemorial, and Barry, on obtaining study +six, had carried on the tradition.  In study five +were Drummond and his friend De Bertini.  In study +seven, which was a smaller room and only capable of +holding one person with any comfort, one James Rupert +Leather-Twigg (that was his singular name, as Mr Gilbert +has it) had taken up his abode.  The name of Leather-Twigg +having proved, at an early date in his career, too +great a mouthful for Wrykyn, he was known to his friends +and acquaintances by the euphonious title of Shoeblossom.  +The charm about the genial Shoeblossom was that you +could never tell what he was going to do next.  +All that you could rely on with any certainty was +that it would be something which would have been better +left undone.</p> + +<p>It was just five o’clock when +Barry and M’Todd started to get things ready.  +They were not high enough up in the school to have +fags, so that they had to do this for themselves.</p> + +<p>Barry was still in football clothes.  +He had been out running and passing with the first +fifteen.  M’Todd, whose idea of exercise +was winding up a watch, had been spending his time +since school ceased in the study with a book.  +He was in his ordinary clothes.  It was therefore +fortunate that, when he upset the kettle (he nearly +always did at some period of the evening’s business), +the contents spread themselves over Barry, and not +over himself.  Football clothes will stand any +amount of water, whereas M’Todd’s “Youth’s +winter suiting at forty-two shillings and sixpence” +might have been injured.  Barry, however, did not +look upon the episode in this philosophical light.  +He spoke to him eloquently for a while, and then sent +him downstairs to fetch more water.  While he +was away, Drummond and De Bertini came in.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Drummond, “tea ready?”</p> + +<p>“Not much,” replied Barry, +bitterly, “not likely to be, either, at this +rate.  We’d just got the kettle going when +that ass M’Todd plunged against the table and +upset the lot over my bags.  Lucky the beastly +stuff wasn’t boiling.  I’m soaked.”</p> + +<p>“While we wait—­the +sausages—­Yes?—­a good idea—­M’Todd, +he is downstairs—­but to wait?  No, +no.  Let us.  Shall we?  Is it not so?  +Yes?” observed Bertie, lucidly.</p> + +<p>“Now construe,” said Barry, +looking at the linguist with a bewildered expression.  +It was a source of no little inconvenience to his friends +that De Bertini was so very fixed in his determination +to speak English.  He was a trier all the way, +was De Bertini.  You rarely caught him helping +out his remarks with the language of his native land.  +It was English or nothing with him.  To most of +his circle it might as well have been Zulu.</p> + +<p>Drummond, either through natural genius +or because he spent more time with him, was generally +able to act as interpreter.  Occasionally there +would come a linguistic effort by which even he freely +confessed himself baffled, and then they would pass +on unsatisfied.  But, as a rule, he was equal +to the emergency.  He was so now.</p> + +<p>“What Bertie means,” he +explained, “is that it’s no good us waiting +for M’Todd to come back.  He never could +fill a kettle in less than ten minutes, and even then +he’s certain to spill it coming upstairs and +have to go back again.  Let’s get on with +the sausages.”</p> + +<p>The pan had just been placed on the +fire when M’Todd returned with the water.  +He tripped over the mat as he entered, and spilt about +half a pint into one of his football boots, which +stood inside the door, but the accident was comparatively +trivial, and excited no remark.</p> + +<p>“I wonder where that slacker +Shoeblossom has got to,” said Barry.  “He +never turns up in time to do any work.  He seems +to regard himself as a beastly guest.  I wish +we could finish the sausages before he comes.  +It would be a sell for him.”</p> + +<p>“Not much chance of that,” +said Drummond, who was kneeling before the fire and +keeping an excited eye on the spluttering pan, “<i>you</i> +see.  He’ll come just as we’ve finished +cooking them.  I believe the man waits outside +with his ear to the keyhole.  Hullo!  Stand +by with the plate.  They’ll be done in half +a jiffy.”</p> + +<p>Just as the last sausage was deposited +in safety on the plate, the door opened, and Shoeblossom, +looking as if he had not brushed his hair since early +childhood, sidled in with an attempt at an easy nonchalance +which was rendered quite impossible by the hopeless +state of his conscience.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he said, “brewing, I see.  +Can I be of any use?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve finished years ago,” said +Barry.</p> + +<p>“Ages ago,” said M’Todd.</p> + +<p>A look of intense alarm appeared on Shoeblossom’s +classical features.</p> + +<p>“You’ve not finished, really?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve finished cooking +everything,” said Drummond.  “We haven’t +begun tea yet.  Now, are you happy?”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom was.  So happy that +he felt he must do something to celebrate the occasion.  +He felt like a successful general.  There must +be <i>something</i> he could do to show that he regarded +the situation with approval.  He looked round +the study.  Ha!  Happy thought—­the +frying-pan.  That useful culinary instrument was +lying in the fender, still bearing its cargo of fat, +and beside it—­a sight to stir the blood +and make the heart beat faster—­were the +sausages, piled up on their plate.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom stooped.  He seized +the frying-pan.  He gave it one twirl in the air.  +Then, before any one could stop him, he had turned +it upside down over the fire.  As has been already +remarked, you could never predict exactly what James +Rupert Leather-Twigg would be up to next.</p> + +<p>When anything goes out of the frying-pan +into the fire, it is usually productive of interesting +by-products.  The maxim applies to fat.  The +fat was in the fire with a vengeance.  A great +sheet of flame rushed out and up.  Shoeblossom +leaped back with a readiness highly creditable in +one who was not a professional acrobat.  The covering +of the mantelpiece caught fire.  The flames went +roaring up the chimney.</p> + +<p>Drummond, cool while everything else +was so hot, without a word moved to the mantelpiece +to beat out the fire with a football shirt.  Bertie +was talking rapidly to himself in French.  Nobody +could understand what he was saying, which was possibly +fortunate.</p> + +<p>By the time Drummond had extinguished +the mantelpiece, Barry had also done good work by +knocking the fire into the grate with the poker.  +M’Todd, who had been standing up till now in +the far corner of the room, gaping vaguely at things +in general, now came into action.  Probably it +was force of habit that suggested to him that the time +had come to upset the kettle.  At any rate, upset +it he did—­most of it over the glowing, +blazing mass in the grate, the rest over Barry.  +One of the largest and most detestable smells the +study had ever had to endure instantly assailed their +nostrils.  The fire in the study was out now, +but in the chimney it still blazed merrily.</p> + +<p>“Go up on to the roof and heave +water down,” said Drummond, the strategist.  +“You can get out from Milton’s dormitory +window.  And take care not to chuck it down the +wrong chimney.”</p> + +<p>Barry was starting for the door to +carry out these excellent instructions, when it flew +open.</p> + +<p>“Pah!  What have you boys +been doing?  What an abominable smell.  Pah!” +said a muffled voice.  It was Mr Seymour.  +Most of his face was concealed in a large handkerchief, +but by the look of his eyes, which appeared above, +he did not seem pleased.  He took in the situation +at a glance.  Fires in the house were not rarities.  +One facetious sportsman had once made a rule of setting +the senior day-room chimney on fire every term.  +He had since left (by request), but fires still occurred.</p> + +<p>“Is the chimney on fire?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Drummond.</p> + +<p>“Go and find Herbert, and tell +him to take some water on to the roof and throw it +down.”  Herbert was the boot and knife cleaner +at Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>Barry went.  Soon afterwards a +splash of water in the grate announced that the intrepid +Herbert was hard at it.  Another followed, and +another.  Then there was a pause.  Mr Seymour +thought he would look up to see if the fire was out.  +He stooped and peered into the darkness, and, even +as he gazed, splash came the contents of the fourth +pail, together with some soot with which they had +formed a travelling acquaintance on the way down.  +Mr Seymour staggered back, grimy and dripping.  +There was dead silence in the study.  Shoeblossom’s +face might have been seen working convulsively.</p> + +<p>The silence was broken by a hollow, +sepulchral voice with a strong Cockney accent.</p> + +<p>“Did yer see any water come +down then, sir?” said the voice.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom collapsed into a chair, +and began to sob feebly.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>“—­disgraceful … +scandalous … get <i>up</i>, Leather-Twigg … not +to be trusted … <i>babies</i> … three hundred +lines, Leather-Twigg … abominable … surprised +… ought to be ashamed of yourselves … <i>double</i>, +Leather-Twigg … not fit to have studies … atrocious +…—­”</p> + +<p>Such were the main heads of Mr Seymour’s +speech on the situation as he dabbed desperately at +the soot on his face with his handkerchief.  Shoeblossom +stood and gurgled throughout.  Not even the thought +of six hundred lines could quench that dauntless spirit.</p> + +<p>“Finally,” perorated Mr +Seymour, as he was leaving the room, “as you +are evidently not to be trusted with rooms of your +own, I forbid you to enter them till further notice.  +It is disgraceful that such a thing should happen.  +Do you hear, Barry?  And you, Drummond?  You +are not to enter your studies again till I give you +leave.  Move your books down to the senior day-room +tonight.”</p> + +<p>And Mr Seymour stalked off to clean himself.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow,” said Shoeblossom, +as his footsteps died away, “we saved the sausages.”</p> + +<p>It is this indomitable gift of looking +on the bright side that makes us Englishmen what we +are.</p> + +<h2>XI</h2> + +<h2>THE HOUSE-MATCHES</h2> + +<p>It was something of a consolation +to Barry and his friends—­at any rate, to +Barry and Drummond—­that directly after they +had been evicted from their study, the house-matches +began.  Except for the Ripton match, the house-matches +were the most important event of the Easter term.  +Even the sports at the beginning of April were productive +of less excitement.  There were twelve houses +at Wrykyn, and they played on the “knocking-out” +system.  To be beaten once meant that a house was +no longer eligible for the competition.  It could +play “friendlies” as much as it liked, +but, play it never so wisely, it could not lift the +cup.  Thus it often happened that a weak house, +by fluking a victory over a strong rival, found itself, +much to its surprise, in the semi-final, or sometimes +even in the final.  This was rarer at football +than at cricket, for at football the better team generally +wins.</p> + +<p>The favourites this year were Donaldson’s, +though some fancied Seymour’s.  Donaldson’s +had Trevor, whose leadership was worth almost more +than his play.  In no other house was training +so rigid.  You could tell a Donaldson’s +man, if he was in his house-team, at a glance.  +If you saw a man eating oatmeal biscuits in the shop, +and eyeing wistfully the while the stacks of buns +and pastry, you could put him down as a Donaldsonite +without further evidence.  The captains of the +other houses used to prescribe a certain amount of +self-abnegation in the matter of food, but Trevor +left his men barely enough to support life—­enough, +that is, of the things that are really worth eating.  +The consequence was that Donaldson’s would turn +out for an important match all muscle and bone, and +on such occasions it was bad for those of their opponents +who had been taking life more easily.  Besides +Trevor they had Clowes, and had had bad luck in not +having Paget.  Had Paget stopped, no other house +could have looked at them.  But by his departure, +the strength of the team had become more nearly on +a level with that of Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>Some even thought that Seymour’s +were the stronger.  Milton was as good a forward +as the school possessed.  Besides him there were +Barry and Rand-Brown on the wings.  Drummond was +a useful half, and five of the pack had either first +or second fifteen colours.  It was a team that +would take some beating.</p> + +<p>Trevor came to that conclusion early.  +“If we can beat Seymour’s, we’ll +lift the cup,” he said to Clowes.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have to do all we know,” +was Clowes’ reply.</p> + +<p>They were watching Seymour’s +pile up an immense score against a scratch team got +up by one of the masters.  The first round of the +competition was over.  Donaldson’s had beaten +Templar’s, Seymour’s the School House.  +Templar’s were rather stronger than the School +House, and Donaldson’s had beaten them by a +rather larger score than that which Seymour’s +had run up in their match.  But neither Trevor +nor Clowes was inclined to draw any augury from this.  +Seymour’s had taken things easily after half-time; +Donaldson’s had kept going hard all through.</p> + +<p>“That makes Rand-Brown’s +fourth try,” said Clowes, as the wing three-quarter +of the second fifteen raced round and scored in the +corner.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  This is the sort +of game he’s all right in.  The man who’s +marking him is no good.  Barry’s scored +twice, and both good tries, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there’s no doubt +which is the best man,” said Clowes.  “I +only mentioned that it was Rand-Brown’s fourth +as an item of interest.”</p> + +<p>The game continued.  Barry scored a third try.</p> + +<p>“We’re drawn against Appleby’s +next round,” said Trevor.  “We can +manage them all right.”</p> + +<p>“When is it?”</p> + +<p>“Next Thursday.  Nomads’ match on +Saturday.  Then Ripton, Saturday week.”</p> + +<p>“Who’ve Seymour’s drawn?”</p> + +<p>“Day’s.  It’ll +be a good game, too.  Seymour’s ought to +win, but they’ll have to play their best.  +Day’s have got some good men.”</p> + +<p>“Fine scrum,” said Clowes.  +“Yes.  Quick in the open, too, which is +always good business.  I wish they’d beat +Seymour’s.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we ought to be all right, whichever wins.”</p> + +<p>Appleby’s did not offer any +very serious resistance to the Donaldson attack.  +They were outplayed at every point of the game, and, +before half-time, Donaldson’s had scored their +thirty points.  It was a rule in all in-school +matches—­and a good rule, too—­that, +when one side led by thirty points, the match stopped.  +This prevented those massacres which do so much towards +crushing all the football out of the members of the +beaten team; and it kept the winning team from getting +slack, by urging them on to score their thirty points +before half-time.  There were some houses—­notoriously +slack—­which would go for a couple of seasons +without ever playing the second half of a match.</p> + +<p>Having polished off the men of Appleby, +the Donaldson team trooped off to the other game to +see how Seymour’s were getting on with Day’s.  +It was evidently an exciting match.  The first +half had been played to the accompaniment of much +shouting from the ropes.  Though coming so early +in the competition, it was really the semi-final, for +whichever team won would be almost certain to get +into the final.  The school had turned up in large +numbers to watch.</p> + +<p>“Seymour’s looking tired +of life,” said Clowes.  “That would +seem as if his fellows weren’t doing well.”</p> + +<p>“What’s been happening +here?” asked Trevor of an enthusiast in a Seymour’s +house cap whose face was crimson with yelling.</p> + +<p>“One goal all,” replied +the enthusiast huskily.  “Did you beat Appleby’s?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Thirty points before +half-time.  Who’s been doing the scoring +here?”</p> + +<p>“Milton got in for us.  +He barged through out of touch.  We’ve been +pressing the whole time.  Barry got over once, +but he was held up.  Hullo, they’re beginning +again.  Buck up, Sey-<i>mour’s</i>.”</p> + +<p>His voice cracking on the high note, +he took an immense slab of vanilla chocolate as a +remedy for hoarseness.</p> + +<p>“Who scored for Day’s?” asked Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Strachan.  Rand-Brown let +him through from their twenty-five.  You never +saw anything so rotten as Rand-Brown.  He doesn’t +take his passes, and Strachan gets past him every +time.”</p> + +<p>“Is Strachan playing on the wing?”</p> + +<p>Strachan was the first fifteen full-back.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  They’ve put +young Bassett back instead of him.  Sey-<i>mour’s</i>.  +Buck up, Seymour’s.  We-ell played!  +There, did you ever see anything like it?” he +broke off disgustedly.</p> + +<p>The Seymourite playing centre next +to Rand-Brown had run through to the back and passed +out to his wing, as a good centre should.  It was +a perfect pass, except that it came at his head instead +of his chest.  Nobody with any pretensions to +decent play should have missed it.  Rand-Brown, +however, achieved that feat.  The ball struck his +hands and bounded forward.  The referee blew his +whistle for a scrum, and a certain try was lost.</p> + +<p>From the scrum the Seymour’s +forwards broke away to the goal-line, where they were +pulled up by Bassett.  The next minute the defence +had been pierced, and Drummond was lying on the ball +a yard across the line.  The enthusiast standing +by Clowes expended the last relics of his voice in +commemorating the fact that his side had the lead.</p> + +<p>“Drummond’ll be good next +year,” said Trevor.  And he made a mental +note to tell Allardyce, who would succeed him in the +command of the school football, to keep an eye on +the player in question.</p> + +<p>The triumph of the Seymourites was +not long lived.  Milton failed to convert Drummond’s +try.  From the drop-out from the twenty-five line +Barry got the ball, and punted into touch.  The +throw-out was not straight, and a scrum was formed.  +The ball came out to the Day’s halves, and went +across to Strachan.  Rand-Brown hesitated, and +then made a futile spring at the first fifteen man’s +neck.  Strachan handed him off easily, and ran.  +The Seymour’s full-back, who was a poor player, +failed to get across in time.  Strachan ran round +behind the posts, the kick succeeded, and Day’s +now led by two points.</p> + +<p>After this the game continued in Day’s +half.  Five minutes before time was up, Drummond +got the ball from a scrum nearly on the line, passed +it to Barry on the wing instead of opening up the game +by passing to his centres, and Barry slipped through +in the corner.  This put Seymour’s just +one point ahead, and there they stayed till the whistle +blew for no-side.</p> + +<p>Milton walked over to the boarding-houses +with Clowes and Trevor.  He was full of the match, +particularly of the iniquity of Rand-Brown.  “I +slanged him on the field,” he said.  “It’s +a thing I don’t often do, but what else <i>can</i> +you do when a man plays like that?  He lost us +three certain tries.”</p> + +<p>“When did you administer your rebuke?” +inquired Clowes.</p> + +<p>“When he had let Strachan through +that second time, in the second half.  I asked +him why on earth he tried to play footer at all.  +I told him a good kiss-in-the-ring club was about +his form.  It was rather cheap, but I felt so +frightfully sick about it.  It’s sickening +to be let down like that when you’ve been pressing +the whole time, and ought to be scoring every other +minute.”</p> + +<p>“What had he to say on the subject?” asked +Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he gassed a bit until I +told him I’d kick him if he said another word.  +That shut him up.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to have kicked him.  +You want all the kicking practice you can get.  +I never saw anything feebler than that shot of yours +after Drummond’s try.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see <i>you</i> +take a kick like that.  It was nearly on the touch-line.  +Still, when we play you, we shan’t need to convert +any of our tries.  We’ll get our thirty +points without that.  Perhaps you’d like +to scratch?”</p> + +<p>“As a matter of fact,” +said Clowes confidentially, “I am going to score +seven tries against you off my own bat.  You’ll +be sorry you ever turned out when we’ve finished +with you.”</p> + +<h2>XII</h2> + +<h2>NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT</h2> + +<p>Shoeblossom sat disconsolately on +the table in the senior day-room.  He was not +happy in exile.  Brewing in the senior day-room +was a mere vulgar brawl, lacking all the refining +influences of the study.  You had to fight for +a place at the fire, and when you had got it ’twas +not always easy to keep it, and there was no privacy, +and the fellows were always bear-fighting, so that +it was impossible to read a book quietly for ten consecutive +minutes without some ass heaving a cushion at you +or turning out the gas.  Altogether Shoeblossom +yearned for the peace of his study, and wished earnestly +that Mr Seymour would withdraw the order of banishment.  +It was the not being able to read that he objected +to chiefly.  In place of brewing, the ex-proprietors +of studies five, six, and seven now made a practice +of going to the school shop.  It was more expensive +and not nearly so comfortable—­there is a +romance about a study brew which you can never get +anywhere else—­but it served, and it was +not on this score that he grumbled most.  What +he hated was having to live in a bear-garden.  +For Shoeblossom was a man of moods.  Give him +two or three congenial spirits to back him up, and +he would lead the revels with the <i>abandon</i> of +a Mr Bultitude (after his return to his original form).  +But he liked to choose his accomplices, and the gay +sparks of the senior day-room did not appeal to him.  +They were not intellectual enough.  In his lucid +intervals, he was accustomed to be almost abnormally +solemn and respectable.  When not promoting some +unholy rag, Shoeblossom resembled an elderly gentleman +of studious habits.  He liked to sit in a comfortable +chair and read a book.  It was the impossibility +of doing this in the senior day-room that led him to +try and think of some other haven where he might rest.  +Had it been summer, he would have taken some literature +out on to the cricket-field or the downs, and put +in a little steady reading there, with the aid of +a bag of cherries.  But with the thermometer low, +that was impossible.</p> + +<p>He felt very lonely and dismal.  +He was not a man with many friends.  In fact, +Barry and the other three were almost the only members +of the house with whom he was on speaking-terms.  +And of these four he saw very little.  Drummond +and Barry were always out of doors or over at the +gymnasium, and as for M’Todd and De Bertini, +it was not worth while talking to the one, and impossible +to talk to the other.  No wonder Shoeblossom felt +dull.  Once Barry and Drummond had taken him over +to the gymnasium with them, but this had bored him +worse than ever.  They had been hard at it all +the time—­for, unlike a good many of the +school, they went to the gymnasium for business, not +to lounge—­and he had had to sit about watching +them.  And watching gymnastics was one of the +things he most loathed.  Since then he had refused +to go.</p> + +<p>That night matters came to a head.  +Just as he had settled down to read, somebody, in +flinging a cushion across the room, brought down the +gas apparatus with a run, and before light was once +more restored it was tea-time.  After that there +was preparation, which lasted for two hours, and by +the time he had to go to bed he had not been able to +read a single page of the enthralling work with which +he was at present occupied.</p> + +<p>He had just got into bed when he was +struck with a brilliant idea.  Why waste the precious +hours in sleep?  What was that saying of somebody’s, +“Five hours for a wise man, six for somebody +else—­he forgot whom—­eight for +a fool, nine for an idiot,” or words to that +effect?  Five hours sleep would mean that he need +not go to bed till half past two.  In the meanwhile +he could be finding out exactly what the hero <i>did</i> +do when he found out (to his horror) that it was his +cousin Jasper who had really killed the old gentleman +in the wood.  The only question was—­how +was he to do his reading?  Prefects were allowed +to work on after lights out in their dormitories by +the aid of a candle, but to the ordinary mortal this +was forbidden.</p> + +<p>Then he was struck with another brilliant +idea.  It is a curious thing about ideas.  +You do not get one for over a month, and then there +comes a rush of them, all brilliant.  Why, he +thought, should he not go and read in his study with +a dark lantern?  He had a dark lantern.  It +was one of the things he had found lying about at +home on the last day of the holidays, and had brought +with him to school.  It was his custom to go about +the house just before the holidays ended, snapping +up unconsidered trifles, which might or might not +come in useful.  This term he had brought back +a curious metal vase (which looked Indian, but which +had probably been made in Birmingham the year before +last), two old coins (of no mortal use to anybody +in the world, including himself), and the dark lantern.  +It was reposing now in the cupboard in his study nearest +the window.</p> + +<p>He had brought his book up with him +on coming to bed, on the chance that he might have +time to read a page or two if he woke up early. (He +had always been doubtful about that man Jasper.  +For one thing, he had been seen pawning the old gentleman’s +watch on the afternoon of the murder, which was a +suspicious circumstance, and then he was not a nice +character at all, and just the sort of man who would +be likely to murder old gentlemen in woods.) He waited +till Mr Seymour had paid his nightly visit—­he +went the round of the dormitories at about eleven—­and +then he chuckled gently.  If Mill, the dormitory +prefect, was awake, the chuckle would make him speak, +for Mill was of a suspicious nature, and believed +that it was only his unintermitted vigilance which +prevented the dormitory ragging all night.</p> + +<p>Mill <i>was</i> awake.</p> + +<p>“Be quiet, there,” he growled.  “Shut +up that noise.”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom felt that the time was +not yet ripe for his departure.  Half an hour +later he tried again.  There was no rebuke.  +To make certain he emitted a second chuckle, replete +with sinister meaning.  A slight snore came from +the direction of Mill’s bed.  Shoeblossom +crept out of the room, and hurried to his study.  +The door was not locked, for Mr Seymour had relied +on his commands being sufficient to keep the owner +out of it.  He slipped in, found and lit the dark +lantern, and settled down to read.  He read with +feverish excitement.  The thing was, you see, that +though Claud Trevelyan (that was the hero) knew jolly +well that it was Jasper who had done the murder, the +police didn’t, and, as he (Claud) was too noble +to tell them, he had himself been arrested on suspicion.  +Shoeblossom was skimming through the pages with starting +eyes, when suddenly his attention was taken from his +book by a sound.  It was a footstep.  Somebody +was coming down the passage, and under the door filtered +a thin stream of light.  To snap the dark slide +over the lantern and dart to the door, so that if +it opened he would be behind it, was with him, as +Mr Claud Trevelyan might have remarked, the work of +a moment.  He heard the door of study number five +flung open, and then the footsteps passed on, and +stopped opposite his own den.  The handle turned, +and the light of a candle flashed into the room, to +be extinguished instantly as the draught of the moving +door caught it.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom heard his visitor utter +an exclamation of annoyance, and fumble in his pocket +for matches.  He recognised the voice.  It +was Mr Seymour’s.  The fact was that Mr +Seymour had had the same experience as General Stanley +in <i>The Pirates of Penzance</i>: </p> + +<p>    The man who finds his conscience +ache,<br /> +      No peace at all +enjoys;<br /> +    And, as I lay in bed awake,<br /> +      I thought I heard +a noise.</p> + +<p>Whether Mr Seymour’s conscience +ached or not, cannot, of course, be discovered.  +But he had certainly thought he heard a noise, and +he had come to investigate.</p> + +<p>The search for matches had so far +proved fruitless.  Shoeblossom stood and quaked +behind the door.  The reek of hot tin from the +dark lantern grew worse momentarily.  Mr Seymour +sniffed several times, until Shoeblossom thought that +he must be discovered.  Then, to his immense relief, +the master walked away.  Shoeblossom’s chance +had come.  Mr Seymour had probably gone to get +some matches to relight his candle.  It was far +from likely that the episode was closed.  He would +be back again presently.  If Shoeblossom was going +to escape, he must do it now, so he waited till the +footsteps had passed away, and then darted out in the +direction of his dormitory.</p> + +<p>As he was passing Milton’s study, +a white figure glided out of it.  All that he +had ever read or heard of spectres rushed into Shoeblossom’s +petrified brain.  He wished he was safely in bed.  +He wished he had never come out of it.  He wished +he had led a better and nobler life.  He wished +he had never been born.</p> + +<p>The figure passed quite close to him +as he stood glued against the wall, and he saw it +disappear into the dormitory opposite his own, of +which Rigby was prefect.  He blushed hotly at the +thought of the fright he had been in.  It was +only somebody playing the same game as himself.</p> + +<p>He jumped into bed and lay down, having +first plunged the lantern bodily into his jug to extinguish +it.  Its indignant hiss had scarcely died away +when Mr Seymour appeared at the door.  It had occurred +to Mr Seymour that he had smelt something very much +out of the ordinary in Shoeblossom’s study, +a smell uncommonly like that of hot tin.  And a +suspicion dawned on him that Shoeblossom had been in +there with a dark lantern.  He had come to the +dormitory to confirm his suspicions.  But a glance +showed him how unjust they had been.  There was +Shoeblossom fast asleep.  Mr Seymour therefore +followed the excellent example of my Lord Tomnoddy +on a celebrated occasion, and went off to bed.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>It was the custom for the captain +of football at Wrykyn to select and publish the team +for the Ripton match a week before the day on which +it was to be played.  On the evening after the +Nomads’ match, Trevor was sitting in his study +writing out the names, when there came a knock at +the door, and his fag entered with a letter.</p> + +<p>“This has just come, Trevor,” he said.</p> + +<p>“All right.  Put it down.”</p> + +<p>The fag left the room.  Trevor +picked up the letter.  The handwriting was strange +to him.  The words had been printed.  Then +it flashed upon him that he had received a letter +once before addressed in the same way—­the +letter from the League about Barry.  Was this, +too, from that address?  He opened it.</p> + +<p>It was.</p> + +<p>He read it, and gasped.  The worst +had happened.  The gold bat was in the hands of +the enemy.</p> + +<h2>XIII</h2> + +<h2>VICTIM NUMBER THREE</h2> + +<p>“With reference to our last +communication,” ran the letter—­the +writer evidently believed in the commercial style—­“it +may interest you to know that the bat you lost by +the statue on the night of the 26th of January has +come into our possession. <i>We observe that Barry +is still playing for the first fifteen.</i>”</p> + +<p>“And will jolly well continue +to,” muttered Trevor, crumpling the paper viciously +into a ball.</p> + +<p>He went on writing the names for the +Ripton match.  The last name on the list was Barry’s.</p> + +<p>Then he sat back in his chair, and +began to wrestle with this new development.  Barry +must play.  That was certain.  All the bluff +in the world was not going to keep him from playing +the best man at his disposal in the Ripton match.  +He himself did not count.  It was the school he +had to think of.  This being so, what was likely +to happen?  Though nothing was said on the point, +he felt certain that if he persisted in ignoring the +League, that bat would find its way somehow—­by +devious routes, possibly—­to the headmaster +or some one else in authority.  And then there +would be questions—­awkward questions—­and +things would begin to come out.  Then a fresh +point struck him, which was, that whatever might happen +would affect, not himself, but O’Hara.  This +made it rather more of a problem how to act.  +Personally, he was one of those dogged characters +who can put up with almost anything themselves.  +If this had been his affair, he would have gone on +his way without hesitating.  Evidently the writer +of the letter was under the impression that he had +been the hero (or villain) of the statue escapade.</p> + +<p>If everything came out it did not +require any great effort of prophecy to predict what +the result would be.  O’Hara would go.  +Promptly.  He would receive his marching orders +within ten minutes of the discovery of what he had +done.  He would be expelled twice over, so to speak, +once for breaking out at night—­one of the +most heinous offences in the school code—­and +once for tarring the statue.  Anything that gave +the school a bad name in the town was a crime in the +eyes of the powers, and this was such a particularly +flagrant case.  Yes, there was no doubt of that.  +O’Hara would take the first train home without +waiting to pack up.  Trevor knew his people well, +and he could imagine their feelings when the prodigal +strolled into their midst—­an old Wrykinian +<i>malgré lui</i>.  As the philosopher said of +falling off a ladder, it is not the falling that matters:  +it is the sudden stopping at the other end.  It +is not the being expelled that is so peculiarly objectionable:  +it is the sudden homecoming.  With this gloomy +vision before him, Trevor almost wavered.  But +the thought that the selection of the team had nothing +whatever to do with his personal feelings strengthened +him.  He was simply a machine, devised to select +the fifteen best men in the school to meet Ripton.  +In his official capacity of football captain he was +not supposed to have any feelings.  However, he +yielded in so far that he went to Clowes to ask his +opinion.</p> + +<p>Clowes, having heard everything and +seen the letter, unhesitatingly voted for the right +course.  If fifty mad Irishmen were to be expelled, +Barry must play against Ripton.  He was the best +man, and in he must go.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I thought,” +said Trevor.  “It’s bad for O’Hara, +though.”</p> + +<p>Clowes remarked somewhat tritely that +business was business.</p> + +<p>“Besides,” he went on, +“you’re assuming that the thing this letter +hints at will really come off.  I don’t think +it will.  A man would have to be such an awful +blackguard to go as low as that.  The least grain +of decency in him would stop him.  I can imagine +a man threatening to do it as a piece of bluff—­by +the way, the letter doesn’t actually say anything +of the sort, though I suppose it hints at it—­but +I can’t imagine anybody out of a melodrama doing +it.”</p> + +<p>“You can never tell,” +said Trevor.  He felt that this was but an outside +chance.  The forbearance of one’s antagonist +is but a poor thing to trust to at the best of times.</p> + +<p>“Are you going to tell O’Hara?” +asked Clowes.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see the good.  Would you?”</p> + +<p>“No.  He can’t do +anything, and it would only give him a bad time.  +There are pleasanter things, I should think, than +going on from day to day not knowing whether you’re +going to be sacked or not within the next twelve hours.  +Don’t tell him.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t.  And Barry plays against +Ripton.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.  He’s the best man.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going over to Seymour’s +now,” said Trevor, after a pause, “to see +Milton.  We’ve drawn Seymour’s in the +next round of the house-matches.  I suppose you +knew.  I want to get it over before the Ripton +match, for several reasons.  About half the fifteen +are playing on one side or the other, and it’ll +give them a good chance of getting fit.  Running +and passing is all right, but a good, hard game’s +the thing for putting you into form.  And then +I was thinking that, as the side that loses, whichever +it is—­”</p> + +<p>“Seymour’s, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Hope so.  Well, they’re +bound to be a bit sick at losing, so they’ll +play up all the harder on Saturday to console themselves +for losing the cup.”</p> + +<p>“My word, what strategy!” +said Clowes.  “You think of everything.  +When do you think of playing it, then?”</p> + +<p>“Wednesday struck me as a good day.  Don’t +you think so?”</p> + +<p>“It would do splendidly.  +It’ll be a good match.  For all practical +purposes, of course, it’s the final.  If +we beat Seymour’s, I don’t think the others +will trouble us much.”</p> + +<p>There was just time to see Milton +before lock-up.  Trevor ran across to Seymour’s, +and went up to his study.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” said Milton, in answer to his +knock.</p> + +<p>Trevor went in, and stood surprised +at the difference in the look of the place since the +last time he had visited it.  The walls, once +covered with photographs, were bare.  Milton, seated +before the fire, was ruefully contemplating what looked +like a heap of waste cardboard.</p> + +<p>Trevor recognised the symptoms.  He had had experience.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say they’ve been +at you, too!” he cried.</p> + +<p>Milton’s normally cheerful face was thunderous +and gloomy.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I was thinking what I’d like +to do to the man who ragged it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the League again, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>Milton looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“<i>Again?</i>” he said, +“where did <i>you</i> hear of the League?  +This is the first time I’ve heard of its existence, +whatever it is.  What is the confounded thing, +and why on earth have they played the fool here?  +What’s the meaning of this bally rot?”</p> + +<p>He exhibited one of the variety of +cards of which Trevor had already seen two specimens.  +Trevor explained briefly the style and nature of the +League, and mentioned that his study also had been +wrecked.</p> + +<p>“Your study?  Why, what have they got against +you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” +said Trevor.  Nothing was to be gained by speaking +of the letters he had received.</p> + +<p>“Did they cut up your photographs?”</p> + +<p>“Every one.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you what it is, Trevor, +old chap,” said Milton, with great solemnity, +“there’s a lunatic in the school.  +That’s what I make of it.  A lunatic whose +form of madness is wrecking studies.”</p> + +<p>“But the same chap couldn’t +have done yours and mine.  It must have been a +Donaldson’s fellow who did mine, and one of your +chaps who did yours and Mill’s.”</p> + +<p>“Mill’s?  By Jove, +of course.  I never thought of that.  That +was the League, too, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  One of those cards +was tied to a chair, but Clowes took it away before +anybody saw it.”</p> + +<p>Milton returned to the details of the disaster.</p> + +<p>“Was there any ink spilt in your room?”</p> + +<p>“Pints,” said Trevor, shortly.  The +subject was painful.</p> + +<p>“So there was here,” said Milton, mournfully.  +“Gallons.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for a while, each pondering over +his wrongs.</p> + +<p>“Gallons,” said Milton +again.  “I was ass enough to keep a large +pot full of it here, and they used it all, every drop.  +You never saw such a sight.”</p> + +<p>Trevor said he had seen one similar spectacle.</p> + +<p>“And my photographs!  You +remember those photographs I showed you?  All +ruined.  Slit across with a knife.  Some torn +in half.  I wish I knew who did that.”</p> + +<p>Trevor said he wished so, too.</p> + +<p>“There was one of Mrs Patrick +Campbell,” Milton continued in heartrending +tones, “which was torn into sixteen pieces.  +I counted them.  There they are on the mantelpiece.  +And there was one of Little Tich” (here he almost +broke down), “which was so covered with ink that +for half an hour I couldn’t recognise it.  +Fact.”</p> + +<p>Trevor nodded sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Milton.  “Soaked.”</p> + +<p>There was another silence.  Trevor +felt it would be almost an outrage to discuss so prosaic +a topic as the date of a house-match with one so broken +up.  Yet time was flying, and lock-up was drawing +near.</p> + +<p>“Are you willing to play—­” +he began.</p> + +<p>“I feel as if I could never +play again,” interrupted Milton.  “You’d +hardly believe the amount of blotting-paper I’ve +used today.  It must have been a lunatic, Dick, +old man.”</p> + +<p>When Milton called Trevor “Dick”, +it was a sign that he was moved.  When he called +him “Dick, old man”, it gave evidence of +an internal upheaval without parallel.</p> + +<p>“Why, who else but a lunatic +would get up in the night to wreck another chap’s +study?  All this was done between eleven last night +and seven this morning.  I turned in at eleven, +and when I came down here again at seven the place +was a wreck.  It must have been a lunatic.”</p> + +<p>“How do you account for the +printed card from the League?”</p> + +<p>Milton murmured something about madmen’s +cunning and diverting suspicion, and relapsed into +silence.  Trevor seized the opportunity to make +the proposal he had come to make, that Donaldson’s +<i>v.</i> Seymour’s should be played on the +following Wednesday.</p> + +<p>Milton agreed listlessly.</p> + +<p>“Just where you’re standing,” +he said, “I found a photograph of Sir Henry +Irving so slashed about that I thought at first it +was Huntley Wright in <i>San Toy</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Start at two-thirty sharp,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“I had seventeen of Edna May,” +continued the stricken Seymourite, monotonously.  +“In various attitudes.  All destroyed.”</p> + +<p>“On the first fifteen ground, +of course,” said Trevor.  “I’ll +get Aldridge to referee.  That’ll suit you, +I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Anything you +like.  Just by the fireplace I found the remains +of Arthur Roberts in <i>H.M.S.  Irresponsible</i>.  +And part of Seymour Hicks.  Under the table—­”</p> + +<p>Trevor departed.</p> + +<h2>XIV</h2> + +<h2>THE WHITE FIGURE</h2> + +<p>“Suppose,” said Shoeblossom +to Barry, as they were walking over to school on the +morning following the day on which Milton’s study +had passed through the hands of the League, “suppose +you thought somebody had done something, but you weren’t +quite certain who, but you knew it was some one, what +would you do?”</p> + +<p>“What on <i>earth</i> do you mean?” inquired +Barry.</p> + +<p>“I was trying to make an A.B. case of it,” +explained Shoeblossom.</p> + +<p>“What’s an A.B. case?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” +admitted Shoeblossom, frankly.  “But it comes +in a book of Stevenson’s.  I think it must +mean a sort of case where you call everyone A. and +B. and don’t tell their names.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go ahead.”</p> + +<p>“It’s about Milton’s study.”</p> + +<p>“What! what about it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, the night it +was ragged I was sitting in my study with a dark lantern—­”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom proceeded to relate the +moving narrative of his night-walking adventure.  +He dwelt movingly on his state of mind when standing +behind the door, waiting for Mr Seymour to come in +and find him.  He related with appropriate force +the hair-raising episode of the weird white figure.  +And then he came to the conclusions he had since drawn +(in calmer moments) from that apparition’s movements.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he said, “I +saw it coming out of Milton’s study, and that +must have been about the time the study was ragged.  +And it went into Rigby’s dorm.  So it must +have been a chap in that dorm, who did it.”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom was quite clever at rare +intervals.  Even Barry, whose belief in his sanity +was of the smallest, was compelled to admit that here, +at any rate, he was talking sense.</p> + +<p>“What would you do?” asked Shoeblossom.</p> + +<p>“Tell Milton, of course,” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“But he’d give me beans for being out +of the dorm, after lights-out.”</p> + +<p>This was a distinct point to be considered.  +The attitude of Barry towards Milton was different +from that of Shoeblossom.  Barry regarded him—­through +having played with him in important matches—­as +a good sort of fellow who had always behaved decently +to him.  Leather-Twigg, on the other hand, looked +on him with undisguised apprehension, as one in authority +who would give him lines the first time he came into +contact with him, and cane him if he ever did it again.  +He had a decided disinclination to see Milton on any +pretext whatever.</p> + +<p>“Suppose I tell him?” suggested Barry.</p> + +<p>“You’ll keep my name dark?” said +Shoeblossom, alarmed.</p> + +<p>Barry said he would make an A.B. case of it.</p> + +<p>After school he went to Milton’s +study, and found him still brooding over its departed +glories.</p> + +<p>“I say, Milton, can I speak to you for a second?”</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Barry.  Come in.”</p> + +<p>Barry came in.</p> + +<p>“I had forty-three photographs,” +began Milton, without preamble.  “All destroyed.  +And I’ve no money to buy any more.  I had +seventeen of Edna May.”</p> + +<p>Barry, feeling that he was expected +to say something, said, “By Jove!  Really?”</p> + +<p>“In various positions,” continued Milton.  +“All ruined.”</p> + +<p>“Not really?” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“There was one of Little Tich—­”</p> + +<p>But Barry felt unequal to playing +the part of chorus any longer.  It was all very +thrilling, but, if Milton was going to run through +the entire list of his destroyed photographs, life +would be too short for conversation on any other topic.</p> + +<p>“I say, Milton,” he said, “it was +about that that I came.  I’m sorry—­”</p> + +<p>Milton sat up.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t you who did this, was it?”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” said Barry, hastily.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I thought from your saying you were sorry—­”</p> + +<p>“I was going to say I thought +I could put you on the track of the chap who did do +it—­”</p> + +<p>For the second time since the interview began Milton +sat up.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” he said.</p> + +<p>“—­But I’m sorry +I can’t give you the name of the fellow who told +me about it.”</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t matter,” +said Milton.  “Tell me the name of the fellow +who did it.  That’ll satisfy me.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I can’t do that, either.”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea what you <i>can</i> do?” +asked Milton, satirically.</p> + +<p>“I can tell you something which may put you +on the right track.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll do for a start.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, the chap who told me—­I’ll +call him A.; I’m going to make an A.B. case +of it—­was coming out of his study at about +one o’clock in the morning—­”</p> + +<p>“What the deuce was he doing that for?”</p> + +<p>“Because he wanted to go back to bed,” +said Barry.</p> + +<p>“About time, too.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“As he was going past your study, a white figure +emerged—­”</p> + +<p>“I should strongly advise you, +young Barry,” said Milton, gravely, “not +to try and rot me in any way.  You’re a jolly +good wing three-quarters, but you shouldn’t +presume on it.  I’d slay the Old Man himself +if he rotted me about this business.”</p> + +<p>Barry was quite pained at this sceptical +attitude in one whom he was going out of his way to +assist.</p> + +<p>“I’m not rotting,” he protested.  +“This is all quite true.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go on.  You were saying something +about white figures emerging.”</p> + +<p>“Not white figures.  A white +figure,” corrected Barry.  “It came +out of your study—­”</p> + +<p>“—­And vanished through the wall?”</p> + +<p>“It went into Rigby’s +dorm.,” said Barry, sulkily.  It was maddening +to have an exclusive bit of news treated in this way.</p> + +<p>“Did it, by Jove!” said +Milton, interested at last.  “Are you sure +the chap who told you wasn’t pulling your leg?  +Who was it told you?”</p> + +<p>“I promised him not to say.”</p> + +<p>“Out with it, young Barry.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t,” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“You aren’t going to tell me?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Milton gave up the point with much +cheerfulness.  He liked Barry, and he realised +that he had no right to try and make him break his +promise.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” +he said.  “Thanks very much, Barry.  +This may be useful.”</p> + +<p>“I’d tell you his name if I hadn’t +promised, you know, Milton.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said Milton.  +“It’s not important.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there was one thing I forgot.  +It was a biggish chap the fellow saw.”</p> + +<p>“How big!  My size?”</p> + +<p>“Not quite so tall, I should +think.  He said he was about Seymour’s size.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks.  That’s worth knowing.  +Thanks very much, Barry.”</p> + +<p>When his visitor had gone, Milton +proceeded to unearth one of the printed lists of the +house which were used for purposes of roll-call.  +He meant to find out who were in Rigby’s dormitory.  +He put a tick against the names.  There were eighteen +of them.  The next thing was to find out which +of them was about the same height as Mr Seymour.  +It was a somewhat vague description, for the house-master +stood about five feet nine or eight, and a good many +of the dormitory were that height, or near it.  +At last, after much brain-work, he reduced the number +of “possibles” to seven.  These seven +were Rigby himself, Linton, Rand-Brown, Griffith, +Hunt, Kershaw, and Chapple.  Rigby might be scratched +off the list at once.  He was one of Milton’s +greatest friends.  Exeunt also Griffith, Hunt, +and Kershaw.  They were mild youths, quite incapable +of any deed of devilry.  There remained, therefore, +Chapple, Linton, and Rand-Brown.  Chapple was +a boy who was invariably late for breakfast.  The +inference was that he was not likely to forego his +sleep for the purpose of wrecking studies.  Chapple +might disappear from the list.  Now there were +only Linton and Rand-Brown to be considered.  His +suspicions fell on Rand-Brown.  Linton was the +last person, he thought, to do such a low thing.  +He was a cheerful, rollicking individual, who was popular +with everyone and seemed to like everyone.  He +was not an orderly member of the house, certainly, +and on several occasions Milton had found it necessary +to drop on him heavily for creating disturbances.  +But he was not the sort that bears malice.  He +took it all in the way of business, and came up smiling +after it was over.  No, everything pointed to +Rand-Brown.  He and Milton had never got on well +together, and quite recently they had quarrelled openly +over the former’s play in the Day’s match.  +Rand-Brown must be the man.  But Milton was sensible +enough to feel that so far he had no real evidence +whatever.  He must wait.</p> + +<p>On the following afternoon Seymour’s turned +out to play Donaldson’s.</p> + +<p>The game, like most house-matches, +was played with the utmost keenness.  Both teams +had good three-quarters, and they attacked in turn.  +Seymour’s had the best of it forward, where Milton +was playing a great game, but Trevor in the centre +was the best outside on the field, and pulled up rush +after rush.  By half-time neither side had scored.</p> + +<p>After half-time Seymour’s, playing +downhill, came away with a rush to the Donaldsonites’ +half, and Rand-Brown, with one of the few decent runs +he had made in good class football that term, ran in +on the left.  Milton took the kick, but failed, +and Seymour’s led by three points.  For +the next twenty minutes nothing more was scored.  +Then, when five minutes more of play remained, Trevor +gave Clowes an easy opening, and Clowes sprinted between +the posts.  The kick was an easy one, and what +sporting reporters term “the major points” +were easily added.</p> + +<p>When there are five more minutes to +play in an important house-match, and one side has +scored a goal and the other a try, play is apt to +become spirited.  Both teams were doing all they +knew.  The ball came out to Barry on the right.  +Barry’s abilities as a three-quarter rested +chiefly on the fact that he could dodge well.  +This eel-like attribute compensated for a certain +lack of pace.  He was past the Donaldson’s +three-quarters in an instant, and running for the line, +with only the back to pass, and with Clowes in hot +pursuit.  Another wriggle took him past the back, +but it also gave Clowes time to catch him up.  +Clowes was a far faster runner, and he got to him +just as he reached the twenty-five line.  They +came down together with a crash, Clowes on top, and +as they fell the whistle blew.</p> + +<p>“No-side,” said Mr. Aldridge, +the master who was refereeing.</p> + +<p>Clowes got up.</p> + +<p>“All over,” he said.  “Jolly +good game.  Hullo, what’s up?”</p> + +<p>For Barry seemed to be in trouble.</p> + +<p>“You might give us a hand up,” +said the latter.  “I believe I’ve twisted +my beastly ankle or something.”</p> + +<h2>XV</h2> + +<h2>A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE</h2> + +<p>“I say,” said Clowes, +helping him up, “I’m awfully sorry.  +Did I do it?  How did it happen?”</p> + +<p>Barry was engaged in making various +attempts at standing on the injured leg.  The +process seemed to be painful.</p> + +<p>“Shall I get a stretcher or anything?  Can +you walk?”</p> + +<p>“If you’d help me over +to the house, I could manage all right.  What a +beastly nuisance!  It wasn’t your fault a +bit.  Only you tackled me when I was just trying +to swerve, and my ankle was all twisted.”</p> + +<p>Drummond came up, carrying Barry’s blazer and +sweater.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Barry,” he said, “what’s +up?  You aren’t crocked?”</p> + +<p>“Something gone wrong with my +ankle.  That my blazer?  Thanks.  Coming +over to the house?  Clowes was just going to help +me over.”</p> + +<p>Clowes asked a Donaldson’s junior, +who was lurking near at hand, to fetch his blazer +and carry it over to the house, and then made his way +with Drummond and the disabled Barry to Seymour’s.  +Having arrived at the senior day-room, they deposited +the injured three-quarter in a chair, and sent M’Todd, +who came in at the moment, to fetch the doctor.</p> + +<p>Dr Oakes was a big man with a breezy +manner, the sort of doctor who hits you with the force +of a sledge-hammer in the small ribs, and asks you +if you felt anything <i>then</i>.  It was on this +principle that he acted with regard to Barry’s +ankle.  He seized it in both hands and gave it +a wrench.</p> + +<p>“Did that hurt?” he inquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>Barry turned white, and replied that it did.</p> + +<p>Dr Oakes nodded wisely.</p> + +<p>“Ah!  H’m!  Just so.  ’Myes.  +Ah.”</p> + +<p>“Is it bad?” asked Drummond, awed by these +mystic utterances.</p> + +<p>“My dear boy,” replied +the doctor, breezily, “it is always bad when +one twists one’s ankle.”</p> + +<p>“How long will it do me out of footer?” +asked Barry.</p> + +<p>“How long?  How long?  +How long?  Why, fortnight.  Fortnight,” +said the doctor.</p> + +<p>“Then I shan’t be able to play next Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“Next Saturday?  Next Saturday?  +My dear boy, if you can put your foot to the ground +by next Saturday, you may take it as evidence that +the age of miracles is not past.  Next Saturday, +indeed!  Ha, ha.”</p> + +<p>It was not altogether his fault that +he treated the matter with such brutal levity.  +It was a long time since he had been at school, and +he could not quite realise what it meant to Barry +not to be able to play against Ripton.  As for +Barry, he felt that he had never loathed and detested +any one so thoroughly as he loathed and detested Dr +Oakes at that moment.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see where the +joke comes in,” said Clowes, when he had gone.  +“I bar that man.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a beast,” +said Drummond.  “I can’t understand +why they let a tout like that be the school doctor.”</p> + +<p>Barry said nothing.  He was too sore for words.</p> + +<p>What Dr Oakes said to his wife that +evening was:  “Over at the school, my dear, +this afternoon.  This afternoon.  Boy with +a twisted ankle.  Nice young fellow.  Very +much put out when I told him he could not play football +for a fortnight.  But I chaffed him, and cheered +him up in no time.  I cheered him up in no time, +my dear.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you did, dear,” +said Mrs Oakes.  Which shows how differently the +same thing may strike different people.  Barry +certainly did not look as if he had been cheered up +when Clowes left the study and went over to tell Trevor +that he would have to find a substitute for his right +wing three-quarter against Ripton.</p> + +<p>Trevor had left the field without +noticing Barry’s accident, and he was tremendously +pleased at the result of the game.</p> + +<p>“Good man,” he said, when +Clowes came in, “you saved the match.”</p> + +<p>“And lost the Ripton match probably,” +said Clowes, gloomily.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“That last time I brought down +Barry I crocked him.  He’s in his study +now with a sprained ankle.  I’ve just come +from there.  Oakes has seen him, and says he mustn’t +play for a fortnight.”</p> + +<p>“Great Scott!” said Trevor, +blankly.  “What on earth shall we do?”</p> + +<p>“Why not move Strachan up to +the wing, and put somebody else back instead of him?  +Strachan is a good wing.”</p> + +<p>Trevor shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No.  There’s nobody +good enough to play back for the first.  We mustn’t +risk it.”</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose it must be Rand-Brown?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“He may do better than we think.  +He played quite a decent game today.  That try +he got wasn’t half a bad one.”</p> + +<p>“He’d be all right if +he didn’t funk.  But perhaps he wouldn’t +funk against Ripton.  In a match like that anybody +would play up.  I’ll ask Milton and Allardyce +about it.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t go to Milton +today,” said Clowes.  “I fancy he’ll +want a night’s rest before he’s fit to +talk to.  He must be a bit sick about this match.  +I know he expected Seymour’s to win.”</p> + +<p>He went out, but came back almost immediately.</p> + +<p>“I say,” he said, “there’s +one thing that’s just occurred to me.  This’ll +please the League.  I mean, this ankle business +of Barry’s.”</p> + +<p>The same idea had struck Trevor.  +It was certainly a respite.  But he regretted +it for all that.  What he wanted was to beat Ripton, +and Barry’s absence would weaken the team.  +However, it was good in its way, and cleared the atmosphere +for the time.  The League would hardly do anything +with regard to the carrying out of their threat while +Barry was on the sick-list.</p> + +<p>Next day, having given him time to +get over the bitterness of defeat in accordance with +Clowes’ thoughtful suggestion, Trevor called +on Milton, and asked him what his opinion was on the +subject of the inclusion of Rand-Brown in the first +fifteen in place of Barry.</p> + +<p>“He’s the next best man,” +he added, in defence of the proposal.</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” said Milton.  +“He’d better play, I suppose.  There’s +no one else.”</p> + +<p>“Clowes thought it wouldn’t +be a bad idea to shove Strachan on the wing, and put +somebody else back.”</p> + +<p>“Who is there to put?”</p> + +<p>“Jervis?”</p> + +<p>“Not good enough.  No, it’s +better to be weakish on the wing than at back.  +Besides, Rand-Brown may do all right.  He played +well against you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Trevor.  +“Study looks a bit better now,” he added, +as he was going, having looked round the room.  +“Still a bit bare, though.”</p> + +<p>Milton sighed.  “It will never be what it +was.”</p> + +<p>“Forty-three theatrical photographs +want some replacing, of course,” said Trevor.  +“But it isn’t bad, considering.”</p> + +<p>“How’s yours?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, mine’s all right, except for the +absence of photographs.”</p> + +<p>“I say, Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Trevor, stopping +at the door.  Milton’s voice had taken on +the tone of one who is about to disclose dreadful secrets.</p> + +<p>“Would you like to know what I think?”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I’m pretty nearly sure who it was +that ragged my study?”</p> + +<p>“By Jove!  What have you done to him?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing as yet.  I’m not quite sure +of my man.”</p> + +<p>“Who is the man?”</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove!  Clowes once said +he thought Rand-Brown must be the President of the +League.  But then, I don’t see how you can +account for <i>my</i> study being wrecked.  He +was out on the field when it was done.”</p> + +<p>“Why, the League, of course.  +You don’t suppose he’s the only man in +it?  There must be a lot of them.”</p> + +<p>“But what makes you think it was Rand-Brown?”</p> + +<p>Milton told him the story of Shoeblossom, +as Barry had told it to him.  The only difference +was that Trevor listened without any of the scepticism +which Milton had displayed on hearing it.  He was +getting excited.  It all fitted in so neatly.  +If ever there was circumstantial evidence against +a man, here it was against Rand-Brown.  Take the +two cases.  Milton had quarrelled with him.  +Milton’s study was wrecked “with the compliments +of the League”.  Trevor had turned him out +of the first fifteen.  Trevor’s study was +wrecked “with the compliments of the League”.  +As Clowes had pointed out, the man with the most obvious +motive for not wishing Barry to play for the school +was Rand-Brown.  It seemed a true bill.</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t wonder if +you’re right,” he said, “but of course +one can’t do anything yet.  You want a lot +more evidence.  Anyhow, we must play him against +Ripton, I suppose.  Which is his study?  I’ll +go and tell him now.”</p> + +<p>“Ten.”</p> + +<p>Trevor knocked at the door of study +Ten.  Rand-Brown was sitting over the fire, reading.  +He jumped up when he saw that it was Trevor who had +come in, and to his visitor it seemed that his face +wore a guilty look.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” said Rand-Brown.</p> + +<p>It was not the politest way of welcoming +a visitor.  It increased Trevor’s suspicions.  +The man was afraid.  A great idea darted into his +mind.  Why not go straight to the point and have +it out with him here and now?  He had the League’s +letter about the bat in his pocket.  He would +confront him with it and insist on searching the study +there and then.  If Rand-Brown were really, as +he suspected, the writer of the letter, the bat must +be in this room somewhere.  Search it now, and +he would have no time to hide it.  He pulled out +the letter.</p> + +<p>“I believe you wrote that,” he said.</p> + +<p>Trevor was always direct.</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown seemed to turn a little +pale, but his voice when he replied was quite steady.</p> + +<p>“That’s a lie,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Then, perhaps,” said Trevor, “you +wouldn’t object to proving it.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“By letting me search your study?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe my word?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I?  You don’t believe +mine.”</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown made no comment on this remark.</p> + +<p>“Was that what you came here for?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Trevor; “as +a matter of fact, I came to tell you to turn out for +running and passing with the first tomorrow afternoon.  +You’re playing against Ripton on Saturday.”</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown’s attitude underwent +a complete transformation at the news.  He became +friendliness itself.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said.  +“I say, I’m sorry I said what I did about +lying.  I was rather sick that you should think +I wrote that rot you showed me.  I hope you don’t +mind.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit.  Do you mind my searching your +study?”</p> + +<p>For a moment Rand-Brown looked vicious.  Then +he sat down with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” he said; “I +see you don’t believe me.  Here are the keys +if you want them.”</p> + +<p>Trevor thanked him, and took the keys.  +He opened every drawer and examined the writing-desk.  +The bat was in none of these places.  He looked +in the cupboards.  No bat there.</p> + +<p>“Like to take up the carpet?” inquired +Rand-Brown.</p> + +<p>“No, thanks.”</p> + +<p>“Search me if you like.  Shall I turn out +my pockets?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, please,” said Trevor, +to his surprise.  He had not expected to be taken +literally.</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown emptied them, but the bat +was not there.  Trevor turned to go.</p> + +<p>“You’ve not looked inside +the legs of the chairs yet,” said Rand-Brown.  +“They may be hollow.  There’s no knowing.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter, thanks,” +said Trevor.  “Sorry for troubling you.  +Don’t forget tomorrow afternoon.”</p> + +<p>And he went, with the very unpleasant +feeling that he had been badly scored off.</p> + +<h2>XVI</h2> + +<h2>THE RIPTON MATCH</h2> + +<p>It was a curious thing in connection +with the matches between Ripton and Wrykyn, that Ripton +always seemed to be the bigger team.  They always +had a gigantic pack of forwards, who looked capable +of shoving a hole through one of the pyramids.  +Possibly they looked bigger to the Wrykinians than +they really were.  Strangers always look big on +the football field.  When you have grown accustomed +to a person’s appearance, he does not look nearly +so large.  Milton, for instance, never struck +anybody at Wrykyn as being particularly big for a school +forward, and yet today he was the heaviest man on the +field by a quarter of a stone.  But, taken in +the mass, the Ripton pack were far heavier than their +rivals.  There was a legend current among the lower +forms at Wrykyn that fellows were allowed to stop on +at Ripton till they were twenty-five, simply to play +football.  This is scarcely likely to have been +based on fact.  Few lower form legends are.</p> + +<p>Jevons, the Ripton captain, through +having played opposite Trevor for three seasons—­he +was the Ripton left centre-three-quarter—­had +come to be quite an intimate of his.  Trevor had +gone down with Milton and Allardyce to meet the team +at the station, and conduct them up to the school.</p> + +<p>“How have you been getting on +since Christmas?” asked Jevons.</p> + +<p>“Pretty well.  We’ve lost Paget, I +suppose you know?”</p> + +<p>“That was the fast man on the wing, wasn’t +it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ve lost a man, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, that red-haired forward.  I remember +him.”</p> + +<p>“It ought to make us pretty even.  What’s +the ground like?”</p> + +<p>“Bit greasy, I should think.  We had some +rain late last night.”</p> + +<p>The ground <i>was</i> a bit greasy.  +So was the ball.  When Milton kicked off up the +hill with what wind there was in his favour, the outsides +of both teams found it difficult to hold the ball.  +Jevons caught it on his twenty-five line, and promptly +handed it forward.  The first scrum was formed +in the heart of the enemy’s country.</p> + +<p>A deep, swelling roar from either +touch-line greeted the school’s advantage.  +A feature of a big match was always the shouting.  +It rarely ceased throughout the whole course of the +game, the monotonous but impressive sound of five +hundred voices all shouting the same word.  It +was worth hearing.  Sometimes the evenness of the +noise would change to an excited <i>crescendo</i> +as a school three-quarter got off, or the school back +pulled up the attack with a fine piece of defence.  +Sometimes the shouting would give place to clapping +when the school was being pressed and somebody had +found touch with a long kick.  But mostly the +man on the ropes roared steadily and without cessation, +and with the full force of his lungs, the word “<i>Wrykyn!</i>”</p> + +<p>The scrum was a long one.  For +two minutes the forwards heaved and strained, now +one side, now the other, gaining a few inches.  +The Wrykyn pack were doing all they knew to heel, +but their opponents’ superior weight was telling.  +Ripton had got the ball, and were keeping it.  +Their game was to break through with it and rush.  +Then suddenly one of their forwards kicked it on, +and just at that moment the opposition of the Wrykyn +pack gave way, and the scrum broke up.  The ball +came out on the Wrykyn side, and Allardyce whipped +it out to Deacon, who was playing half with him.</p> + +<p>“Ball’s out,” cried +the Ripton half who was taking the scrum.  “Break +up.  It’s out.”</p> + +<p>And his colleague on the left darted +across to stop Trevor, who had taken Deacon’s +pass, and was running through on the right.</p> + +<p>Trevor ran splendidly.  He was +a three-quarter who took a lot of stopping when he +once got away.  Jevons and the Ripton half met +him almost simultaneously, and each slackened his +pace for the fraction of a second, to allow the other +to tackle.  As they hesitated, Trevor passed them.  +He had long ago learned that to go hard when you have +once started is the thing that pays.</p> + +<p>He could see that Rand-Brown was racing +up for the pass, and, as he reached the back, he sent +the ball to him, waist-high.  Then the back got +to him, and he came down with a thud, with a vision, +seen from the corner of his eye, of the ball bounding +forward out of the wing three-quarter’s hands +into touch.  Rand-Brown had bungled the pass in +the old familiar way, and lost a certain try.</p> + +<p>The touch-judge ran up with his flag +waving in the air, but the referee had other views.</p> + +<p>“Knocked on inside,” he said; “scrum +here.”</p> + +<p>“Here” was, Trevor saw +with unspeakable disgust, some three yards from the +goal-line.  Rand-Brown had only had to take the +pass, and he must have scored.</p> + +<p>The Ripton forwards were beginning +to find their feet better now, and they carried the +scrum.  A truculent-looking warrior in one of those +ear-guards which are tied on by strings underneath +the chin, and which add fifty per cent to the ferocity +of a forward’s appearance, broke away with the +ball at his feet, and swept down the field with the +rest of the pack at his heels.  Trevor arrived +too late to pull up the rush, which had gone straight +down the right touch-line, and it was not till Strachan +fell on the ball on the Wrykyn twenty-five line that +the danger ceased to threaten.</p> + +<p>Even now the school were in a bad +way.  The enemy were pressing keenly, and a real +piece of combination among their three-quarters would +only too probably end in a try.  Fortunately for +them, Allardyce and Deacon were a better pair of halves +than the couple they were marking.  Also, the +Ripton forwards heeled slowly, and Allardyce had generally +got his man safely buried in the mud before he could +pass.</p> + +<p>He was just getting round for the +tenth time to bottle his opponent as before, when +he slipped.  When the ball came out he was on all +fours, and the Ripton exponent, finding to his great +satisfaction that he had not been tackled, whipped +the ball out on the left, where a wing three-quarter +hovered.</p> + +<p>This was the man Rand-Brown was supposed +to be marking, and once again did Barry’s substitute +prove of what stuff his tackling powers were made.  +After his customary moment of hesitation, he had at +the Riptonian’s neck.  The Riptonian handed +him off in a manner that recalled the palmy days of +the old Prize Ring—­handing off was always +slightly vigorous in the Ripton <i>v.</i> Wrykyn match—­and +dashed over the line in the extreme corner.</p> + +<p>There was anguish on the two touch-lines.  +Trevor looked savage, but made no comment.  The +team lined up in silence.</p> + +<p>It takes a very good kick to convert +a try from the touch-line.  Jevons’ kick +was a long one, but it fell short.  Ripton led +by a try to nothing.</p> + +<p>A few more scrums near the halfway +line, and a fine attempt at a dropped goal by the +Ripton back, and it was half-time, with the score +unaltered.</p> + +<p>During the interval there were lemons.  +An excellent thing is your lemon at half-time.  +It cools the mouth, quenches the thirst, stimulates +the desire to be at them again, and improves the play.</p> + +<p>Possibly the Wrykyn team had been +happier in their choice of lemons on this occasion, +for no sooner had the game been restarted than Clowes +ran the whole length of the field, dodged through the +three-quarters, punted over the back’s head, +and scored a really brilliant try, of the sort that +Paget had been fond of scoring in the previous term.  +The man on the touch-line brightened up wonderfully, +and began to try and calculate the probable score +by the end of the game, on the assumption that, as +a try had been scored in the first two minutes, ten +would be scored in the first twenty, and so on.</p> + +<p>But the calculations were based on +false premises.  After Strachan had failed to +convert, and the game had been resumed with the score +at one try all, play settled down in the centre, and +neither side could pierce the other’s defence.  +Once Jevons got off for Ripton, but Trevor brought +him down safely, and once Rand-Brown let his man through, +as before, but Strachan was there to meet him, and +the effort came to nothing.  For Wrykyn, no one +did much except tackle.  The forwards were beaten +by the heavier pack, and seldom let the ball out.  +Allardyce intercepted a pass when about ten minutes +of play remained, and ran through to the back.  +But the back, who was a capable man and in his third +season in the team, laid him low scientifically before +he could reach the line.</p> + +<p>Altogether it looked as if the match +were going to end in a draw.  The Wrykyn defence, +with the exception of Rand-Brown, was too good to be +penetrated, while the Ripton forwards, by always getting +the ball in the scrums, kept them from attacking.  +It was about five minutes from the end of the game +when the Ripton right centre-three-quarter, in trying +to punt across to the wing, miskicked and sent the +ball straight into the hands of Trevor’s colleague +in the centre.  Before his man could get round +to him he had slipped through, with Trevor backing +him up.  The back, as a good back should, seeing +two men coming at him, went for the man with the ball.  +But by the time he had brought him down, the ball +was no longer where it had originally been.  Trevor +had got it, and was running in between the posts.</p> + +<p>This time Strachan put on the extra +two points without difficulty.</p> + +<p>Ripton played their hardest for the +remaining minutes, but without result.  The game +ended with Wrykyn a goal ahead—­a goal and +a try to a try.  For the second time in one season +the Ripton match had ended in a victory—­a +thing it was very rarely in the habit of doing.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>The senior day-room at Seymour’s +rejoiced considerably that night.  The air was +dark with flying cushions, and darker still, occasionally, +when the usual humorist turned the gas out.  Milton +was out, for he had gone to the dinner which followed +the Ripton match, and the man in command of the house +in his absence was Mill.  And the senior day-room +had no respect whatever for Mill.</p> + +<p>Barry joined in the revels as well +as his ankle would let him, but he was not feeling +happy.  The disappointment of being out of the +first still weighed on him.</p> + +<p>At about eight, when things were beginning +to grow really lively, and the noise seemed likely +to crack the window at any moment, the door was flung +open and Milton stalked in.</p> + +<p>“What’s all this row?” he inquired.  +“Stop it at once.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the row <i>had</i> stopped—­directly +he came in.</p> + +<p>“Is Barry here?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said that youth.</p> + +<p>“Congratulate you on your first, +Barry.  We’ve just had a meeting and given +you your colours.  Trevor told me to tell you.”</p> + +<h2>XVII</h2> + +<h2>THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT</h2> + +<p>For the next three seconds you could +have heard a cannonball drop.  And that was equivalent, +in the senior day-room at Seymour’s, to a dead +silence.  Barry stood in the middle of the room +leaning on the stick on which he supported life, now +that his ankle had been injured, and turned red and +white in regular rotation, as the magnificence of the +news came home to him.</p> + +<p>Then the small voice of Linton was heard.</p> + +<p>“That’ll be six d.  +I’ll trouble you for, young Sammy,” said +Linton.  For he had betted an even sixpence with +Master Samuel Menzies that Barry would get his first +fifteen cap this term, and Barry had got it.</p> + +<p>A great shout went up from every corner +of the room.  Barry was one of the most popular +members of the house, and every one had been sorry +for him when his sprained ankle had apparently put +him out of the running for the last cap.</p> + +<p>“Good old Barry,” said +Drummond, delightedly.  Barry thanked him in a +dazed way.</p> + +<p>Every one crowded in to shake his +hand.  Barry thanked then all in a dazed way.</p> + +<p>And then the senior day-room, in spite +of the fact that Milton had returned, gave itself +up to celebrating the occasion with one of the most +deafening uproars that had ever been heard even in +that factory of noise.  A babel of voices discussed +the match of the afternoon, each trying to outshout +the other.  In one corner Linton was beating wildly +on a biscuit-tin with part of a broken chair.  +Shoeblossom was busy in the opposite corner executing +an intricate step-dance on somebody else’s box.  +M’Todd had got hold of the red-hot poker, and +was burning his initials in huge letters on the seat +of a chair.  Every one, in short, was enjoying +himself, and it was not until an advanced hour that +comparative quiet was restored.  It was a great +evening for Barry, the best he had ever experienced.</p> + +<p>Clowes did not learn the news till +he saw it on the notice-board, on the following Monday.  +When he saw it he whistled softly.</p> + +<p>“I see you’ve given Barry +his first,” he said to Trevor, when they met.  +“Rather sensational.”</p> + +<p>“Milton and Allardyce both thought +he deserved it.  If he’d been playing instead +of Rand-Brown, they wouldn’t have scored at all +probably, and we should have got one more try.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” +said Clowes.  “He deserves it right enough, +and I’m jolly glad you’ve given it him.  +But things will begin to move now, don’t you +think?  The League ought to have a word to say +about the business.  It’ll be a facer for +them.”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember,” asked +Trevor, “saying that you thought it must be +Rand-Brown who wrote those letters?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Milton had an idea that it was Rand-Brown +who ragged his study.”</p> + +<p>“What made him think that?”</p> + +<p>Trevor related the Shoeblossom incident.</p> + +<p>Clowes became quite excited.</p> + +<p>“Then Rand-Brown must be the +man,” he said.  “Why don’t you +go and tackle him?  Probably he’s got the +bat in his study.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not in his study,” +said Trevor, “because I looked everywhere for +it, and got him to turn out his pockets, too.  +And yet I’ll swear he knows something about +it.  One thing struck me as a bit suspicious.  +I went straight into his study and showed him that +last letter—­about the bat, you know, and +accused him of writing it.  Now, if he hadn’t +been in the business somehow, he wouldn’t have +understood what was meant by their saying ‘the +bat you lost’.  It might have been an ordinary +cricket-bat for all he knew.  But he offered to +let me search the study.  It didn’t strike +me as rum till afterwards.  Then it seemed fishy.  +What do you think?”</p> + +<p>Clowes thought so too, but admitted +that he did not see of what use the suspicion was +going to be.  Whether Rand-Brown knew anything +about the affair or not, it was quite certain that +the bat was not with him.</p> + +<p>O’Hara, meanwhile, had decided +that the time had come for him to resume his detective +duties.  Moriarty agreed with him, and they resolved +that that night they would patronise the vault instead +of the gymnasium, and take a holiday as far as their +boxing was concerned.  There was plenty of time +before the Aldershot competition.</p> + +<p>Lock-up was still at six, so at a +quarter to that hour they slipped down into the vault, +and took up their position.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour passed.  +The lock-up bell sounded faintly.  Moriarty began +to grow tired.</p> + +<p>“Is it worth it?” he said, +“an’ wouldn’t they have come before, +if they meant to come?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll give them another +quarter of an hour,” said O’Hara.  +“After that—­”</p> + +<p>“<i>Sh</i>!” whispered Moriarty.</p> + +<p>The door had opened.  They could +see a figure dimly outlined in the semi-darkness.  +Footsteps passed down into the vault, and there came +a sound as if the unknown had cannoned into a chair, +followed by a sharp intake of breath, expressive of +pain.  A scraping sound, and a flash of light, +and part of the vault was lit by a candle.  O’Hara +caught a glimpse of the unknown’s face as he +rose from lighting the candle, but it was not enough +to enable him to recognise him.  The candle was +standing on a chair, and the light it gave was too +feeble to reach the face of any one not on a level +with it.</p> + +<p>The unknown began to drag chairs out +into the neighbourhood of the light.  O’Hara +counted six.</p> + +<p>The sixth chair had scarcely been +placed in position when the door opened again.  +Six other figures appeared in the opening one after +the other, and bolted into the vault like rabbits +into a burrow.  The last of them closed the door +after them.</p> + +<p>O’Hara nudged Moriarty, and +Moriarty nudged O’Hara; but neither made a sound.  +They were not likely to be seen—­the blackness +of the vault was too Egyptian for that—­but +they were so near to the chairs that the least whisper +must have been heard.  Not a word had proceeded +from the occupants of the chairs so far.  If O’Hara’s +suspicion was correct, and this was really the League +holding a meeting, their methods were more secret +than those of any other secret society in existence.  +Even the Nihilists probably exchanged a few remarks +from time to time, when they met together to plot.  +But these men of mystery never opened their lips.  +It puzzled O’Hara.</p> + +<p>The light of the candle was obscured +for a moment, and a sound of puffing came from the +darkness.</p> + +<p>O’Hara nudged Moriarty again.</p> + +<p>“Smoking!” said the nudge.</p> + +<p>Moriarty nudged O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Smoking it is!” was the meaning of the +movement.</p> + +<p>A strong smell of tobacco showed that +the diagnosis had been a true one.  Each of the +figures in turn lit his pipe at the candle, and sat +back, still in silence.  It could not have been +very pleasant, smoking in almost pitch darkness, but +it was breaking rules, which was probably the main +consideration that swayed the smokers.  They puffed +away steadily, till the two Irishmen were wrapped +about in invisible clouds.</p> + +<p>Then a strange thing happened.  +I know that I am infringing copyright in making that +statement, but it so exactly suits the occurrence, +that perhaps Mr Rider Haggard will not object.  +It <i>was</i> a strange thing that happened.</p> + +<p>A rasping voice shattered the silence.</p> + +<p>“You boys down there,” +said the voice, “come here immediately.  +Come here, I say.”</p> + +<p>It was the well-known voice of Mr +Robert Dexter, O’Hara and Moriarty’s beloved +house-master.</p> + +<p>The two Irishmen simultaneously clutched +one another, each afraid that the other would think—­from +force of long habit—­that the house-master +was speaking to him.  Both stood where they were.  +It was the men of mystery and tobacco that Dexter +was after, they thought.</p> + +<p>But they were wrong.  What had +brought Dexter to the vault was the fact that he had +seen two boys, who looked uncommonly like O’Hara +and Moriarty, go down the steps of the vault at a +quarter to six.  He had been doing his usual after-lock-up +prowl on the junior gravel, to intercept stragglers, +and he had been a witness—­from a distance +of fifty yards, in a very bad light—­of +the descent into the vault.  He had remained on +the gravel ever since, in the hope of catching them +as they came up; but as they had not come up, he had +determined to make the first move himself.  He +had not seen the six unknowns go down, for, the evening +being chilly, he had paced up and down, and they had +by a lucky accident chosen a moment when his back +was turned.</p> + +<p>“Come up immediately,” he repeated.</p> + +<p>Here a blast of tobacco-smoke rushed +at him from the darkness.  The candle had been +extinguished at the first alarm, and he had not realised—­though +he had suspected it—­that smoking had been +going on.</p> + +<p>A hurried whispering was in progress +among the unknowns.  Apparently they saw that +the game was up, for they picked their way towards +the door.</p> + +<p>As each came up the steps and passed +him, Mr Dexter observed “Ha!” and appeared +to make a note of his name.  The last of the six +was just leaving him after this process had been completed, +when Mr Dexter called him back.</p> + +<p>“That is not all,” he said, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said the last of the unknowns.</p> + +<p>Neither of the Irishmen recognised +the voice.  Its owner was a stranger to them.</p> + +<p>“I tell you it is not,” +snapped Mr Dexter.  “You are concealing the +truth from me.  O’Hara and Moriarty are down +there—­two boys in my own house.  I +saw them go down there.”</p> + +<p>“They had nothing to do with +us, sir.  We saw nothing of them.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt,” said +the house-master, “that you imagine that you +are doing a very chivalrous thing by trying to hide +them, but you will gain nothing by it.  You may +go.”</p> + +<p>He came to the top of the steps, and +it seemed as if he intended to plunge into the darkness +in search of the suspects.  But, probably realising +the futility of such a course, he changed his mind, +and delivered an ultimatum from the top step.</p> + +<p>“O’Hara and Moriarty.”</p> + +<p>No reply.</p> + +<p>“O’Hara and Moriarty, +I know perfectly well that you are down there.  +Come up immediately.”</p> + +<p>Dignified silence from the vault.</p> + +<p>“Well, I shall wait here till +you do choose to come up.  You would be well advised +to do so immediately.  I warn you you will not +tire me out.”</p> + +<p>He turned, and the door slammed behind him.</p> + +<p>“What’ll we do?” whispered Moriarty.  +It was at last safe to whisper.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said O’Hara, “I’m +thinking.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara thought.  For many +minutes he thought in vain.  At last there came +flooding back into his mind a memory of the days of +his faghood.  It was after that that he had been +groping all the time.  He remembered now.  +Once in those days there had been an unexpected function +in the middle of term.  There were needed for +that function certain chairs.  He could recall +even now his furious disgust when he and a select body +of fellow fags had been pounced upon by their form-master, +and coerced into forming a line from the junior block +to the cloisters, for the purpose of handing chairs.  +True, his form-master had stood ginger-beer after the +event, with princely liberality, but the labour was +of the sort that gallons of ginger-beer will not make +pleasant.  But he ceased to regret the episode +now.  He had been at the extreme end of the chair-handling +chain.  He had stood in a passage in the junior +block, just by the door that led to the masters’ +garden, and which—­he remembered—­was +never locked till late at night.  And while he +stood there, a pair of hands—­apparently +without a body—­had heaved up chair after +chair through a black opening in the floor.  In +other words, a trap-door connected with the vault in +which he now was.</p> + +<p>He imparted these reminiscences of +childhood to Moriarty.  They set off to search +for the missing door, and, after wanderings and barkings +of shins too painful to relate, they found it.  +Moriarty lit a match.  The light fell on the trap-door, +and their last doubts were at an end.  The thing +opened inwards.  The bolt was on their side, not +in the passage above them.  To shoot the bolt +took them one second, to climb into the passage one +minute.  They stood at the side of the opening, +and dusted their clothes.</p> + +<p>“Bedad!” said Moriarty, suddenly.</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Why, how are we to shut it?”</p> + +<p>This was a problem that wanted some +solving.  Eventually they managed it, O’Hara +leaning over and fishing for it, while Moriarty held +his legs.</p> + +<p>As luck would have it—­and +luck had stood by them well all through—­there +was a bolt on top of the trap-door, as well as beneath +it.</p> + +<p>“Supposing that had been shot!” +said O’Hara, as they fastened the door in its +place.</p> + +<p>Moriarty did not care to suppose anything so unpleasant.</p> + +<p>Mr Dexter was still prowling about +on the junior gravel, when the two Irishmen ran round +and across the senior gravel to the gymnasium.  +Here they put in a few minutes’ gentle sparring, +and then marched boldly up to Mr Day (who happened +to have looked in five minutes after their arrival) +and got their paper.</p> + +<p>“What time did O’Hara +and Moriarty arrive at the gymnasium?” asked +Mr Dexter of Mr Day next morning.</p> + +<p>“O’Hara and Moriarty?  +Really, I can’t remember.  I know they <i>left</i> +at about a quarter to seven.”</p> + +<p>That profound thinker, Mr Tony Weller, +was never so correct as in his views respecting the +value of an <i>alibi</i>.  There are few better +things in an emergency.</p> + +<h2>XVIII</h2> + +<h2>O’HARA EXCELS HIMSELF</h2> + +<p>It was Renford’s turn next morning +to get up and feed the ferrets.  Harvey had done +it the day before.</p> + +<p>Renford was not a youth who enjoyed +early rising, but in the cause of the ferrets he would +have endured anything, so at six punctually he slid +out of bed, dressed quietly, so as not to disturb the +rest of the dormitory, and ran over to the vault.  +To his utter amazement he found it locked.  Such +a thing had never been done before in the whole course +of his experience.  He tugged at the handle, but +not an inch or a fraction of an inch would the door +yield.  The policy of the Open Door had ceased +to find favour in the eyes of the authorities.</p> + +<p>A feeling of blank despair seized +upon him.  He thought of the dismay of the ferrets +when they woke up and realised that there was no chance +of breakfast for them.  And then they would gradually +waste away, and some day somebody would go down to +the vault to fetch chairs, and would come upon two +mouldering skeletons, and wonder what they had once +been.  He almost wept at the vision so conjured +up.</p> + +<p>There was nobody about.  Perhaps +he might break in somehow.  But then there was +nothing to get to work with.  He could not kick +the door down.  No, he must give it up, and the +ferrets’ breakfast-hour must be postponed.  +Possibly Harvey might be able to think of something.</p> + +<p>“Fed ’em?” inquired Harvey, when +they met at breakfast.</p> + +<p>“No, I couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Why on earth not?  You didn’t oversleep +yourself?”</p> + +<p>Renford poured his tale into his friend’s shocked +ears.</p> + +<p>“My hat!” said Harvey, +when he had finished, “what on earth are we to +do?  They’ll starve.”</p> + +<p>Renford nodded mournfully.</p> + +<p>“Whatever made them go and lock the door?” +he said.</p> + +<p>He seemed to think the authorities +should have given him due notice of such an action.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure they have locked it?  +It isn’t only stuck or something?”</p> + +<p>“I lugged at the handle for +hours.  But you can go and see for yourself if +you like.”</p> + +<p>Harvey went, and, waiting till the +coast was clear, attached himself to the handle with +a prehensile grasp, and put his back into one strenuous +tug.  It was even as Renford had said.  The +door was locked beyond possibility of doubt.</p> + +<p>Renford and he went over to school +that morning with long faces and a general air of +acute depression.  It was perhaps fortunate for +their purpose that they did, for had their appearance +been normal it might not have attracted O’Hara’s +attention.  As it was, the Irishman, meeting them +on the junior gravel, stopped and asked them what was +wrong.  Since the adventure in the vault, he had +felt an interest in Renford and Harvey.</p> + +<p>The two told their story in alternate +sentences like the Strophe and Antistrophe of a Greek +chorus. ("Steichomuthics,” your Greek scholar +calls it, I fancy.  Ha, yes!  Just so.)</p> + +<p>“So ye can’t get in because +they’ve locked the door, an’ ye don’t +know what to do about it?” said O’Hara, +at the conclusion of the narrative.</p> + +<p>Renford and Harvey informed him in +chorus that that <i>was</i> the state of the game +up to present date.</p> + +<p>“An’ ye want me to get them out for you?”</p> + +<p>Neither had dared to hope that he +would go so far as this.  What they had looked +for had been at the most a few thoughtful words of +advice.  That such a master-strategist as O’Hara +should take up their cause was an unexampled piece +of good luck.</p> + +<p>“If you only would,” said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“We should be most awfully obliged,” said +Renford.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said O’Hara.</p> + +<p>They thanked him profusely.</p> + +<p>O’Hara replied that it would be a privilege.</p> + +<p>He should be sorry, he said, to have anything happen +to the ferrets.</p> + +<p>Renford and Harvey went on into school +feeling more cheerful.  If the ferrets could be +extracted from their present tight corner, O’Hara +was the man to do it.</p> + +<p>O’Hara had not made his offer +of assistance in any spirit of doubt.  He was +certain that he could do what he had promised.  +For it had not escaped his memory that this was a +Tuesday—­in other words, a mathematics morning +up to the quarter to eleven interval.  That meant, +as has been explained previously, that, while the rest +of the school were in the form-rooms, he would be +out in the passage, if he cared to be.  There +would be no witnesses to what he was going to do.</p> + +<p>But, by that curious perversity of +fate which is so often noticeable, Mr Banks was in +a peculiarly lamb-like and long-suffering mood this +morning.  Actions for which O’Hara would +on other days have been expelled from the room without +hope of return, today were greeted with a mild “Don’t +do that, please, O’Hara,” or even the ridiculously +inadequate “O’Hara!” It was perfectly +disheartening.  O’Hara began to ask himself +bitterly what was the use of ragging at all if this +was how it was received.  And the moments were +flying, and his promise to Renford and Harvey still +remained unfulfilled.</p> + +<p>He prepared for fresh efforts.</p> + +<p>So desperate was he, that he even +resorted to crude methods like the throwing of paper +balls and the dropping of books.  And when your +really scientific ragger sinks to this, he is nearing +the end of his tether.  O’Hara hated to +be rude, but there seemed no help for it.</p> + +<p>The striking of a quarter past ten +improved his chances.  It had been privily agreed +upon beforehand amongst the members of the class that +at a quarter past ten every one was to sneeze simultaneously.  +The noise startled Mr Banks considerably.  The +angelic mood began to wear off.  A man may be +long-suffering, but he likes to draw the line somewhere.</p> + +<p>“Another exhibition like that,” +he said, sharply, “and the class stays in after +school, O’Hara!”</p> + +<p>“Sir?”</p> + +<p>“Silence.”</p> + +<p>“I said nothing, sir, really.”</p> + +<p>“Boy, you made a cat-like noise with your mouth.”</p> + +<p>“What <i>sort</i> of noise, sir?”</p> + +<p>The form waited breathlessly.  +This peculiarly insidious question had been invented +for mathematical use by one Sandys, who had left at +the end of the previous summer.  It was but rarely +that the master increased the gaiety of nations by +answering the question in the manner desired.</p> + +<p>Mr Banks, off his guard, fell into the trap.</p> + +<p>“A noise like this,” he +said curtly, and to the delighted audience came the +melodious sound of a “Mi-aou”, which put +O’Hara’s effort completely in the shade, +and would have challenged comparison with the war-cry +of the stoutest mouser that ever trod a tile.</p> + +<p>A storm of imitations arose from all +parts of the room.  Mr Banks turned pink, and, +going straight to the root of the disturbance, forthwith +evicted O’Hara.</p> + +<p>O’Hara left with the satisfying +feeling that his duty had been done.</p> + +<p>Mr Banks’ room was at the top +of the middle block.  He ran softly down the stairs +at his best pace.  It was not likely that the master +would come out into the passage to see if he was still +there, but it might happen, and it would be best to +run as few risks as possible.</p> + +<p>He sprinted over to the junior block, +raised the trap-door, and jumped down.  He knew +where the ferrets had been placed, and had no difficulty +in finding them.  In another minute he was in the +passage again, with the trap-door bolted behind him.</p> + +<p>He now asked himself—­what +should he do with them?  He must find a safe place, +or his labours would have been in vain.</p> + +<p>Behind the fives-court, he thought, +would be the spot.  Nobody ever went there.  +It meant a run of three hundred yards there and the +same distance back, and there was more than a chance +that he might be seen by one of the Powers.  In +which case he might find it rather hard to explain +what he was doing in the middle of the grounds with +a couple of ferrets in his possession when the hands +of the clock pointed to twenty minutes to eleven.</p> + +<p>But the odds were against his being seen.  He +risked it.</p> + +<p>When the bell rang for the quarter +to eleven interval the ferrets were in their new home, +happily discussing a piece of meat—­Renford’s +contribution, held over from the morning’s meal,—­and +O’Hara, looking as if he had never left the +passage for an instant, was making his way through +the departing mathematical class to apologise handsomely +to Mr Banks—­as was his invariable custom—­for +his disgraceful behaviour during the morning’s +lesson.</p> + +<h2>XIX</h2> + +<h2>THE MAYOR’S VISIT</h2> + +<p>School prefects at Wrykyn did weekly +essays for the headmaster.  Those who had got +their scholarships at the ’Varsity, or who were +going up in the following year, used to take their +essays to him after school and read them to him—­an +unpopular and nerve-destroying practice, akin to suicide.  +Trevor had got his scholarship in the previous November.  +He was due at the headmaster’s private house +at six o’clock on the present Tuesday.  +He was looking forward to the ordeal not without apprehension.  +The essay subject this week had been “One man’s +meat is another man’s poison”, and Clowes, +whose idea of English Essay was that it should be +a medium for <i>intempestive</i> frivolity, had insisted +on his beginning with, “While I cannot conscientiously +go so far as to say that one man’s meat is another +man’s poison, yet I am certainly of opinion that +what is highly beneficial to one man may, on the other +hand, to another man, differently constituted, be +extremely deleterious, and, indeed, absolutely fatal.”</p> + +<p>Trevor was not at all sure how the +headmaster would take it.  But Clowes had seemed +so cut up at his suggestion that it had better be omitted, +that he had allowed it to stand.</p> + +<p>He was putting the final polish on +this gem of English literature at half-past five, +when Milton came in.</p> + +<p>“Busy?” said Milton.</p> + +<p>Trevor said he would be through in a minute.</p> + +<p>Milton took a chair, and waited.</p> + +<p>Trevor scratched out two words and +substituted two others, made a couple of picturesque +blots, and, laying down his pen, announced that he +had finished.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” he said.</p> + +<p>“It’s about the League,” said Milton.</p> + +<p>“Found out anything?”</p> + +<p>“Not anything much.  But +I’ve been making inquiries.  You remember +I asked you to let me look at those letters of yours?”</p> + +<p>Trevor nodded.  This had happened on the Sunday +of that week.</p> + +<p>“Well, I wanted to look at the post-marks.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, I never thought of that.”</p> + +<p>Milton continued with the business-like +air of the detective who explains in the last chapter +of the book how he did it.</p> + +<p>“I found, as I thought, that both letters came +from the same place.”</p> + +<p>Trevor pulled out the letters in question.  + “So they do,” he said, “Chesterton.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know Chesterton?” asked Milton.</p> + +<p>“Only by name.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a small hamlet about +two miles from here across the downs.  There’s +only one shop in the place, which acts as post-office +and tobacconist and everything else.  I thought +that if I went there and asked about those letters, +they might remember who it was that sent them, if +I showed them a photograph.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove,” said Trevor, “of course!  +Did you?  What happened?”</p> + +<p>“I went there yesterday afternoon.  +I took about half-a-dozen photographs of various chaps, +including Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“But wait a bit.  If Chesterton’s +two miles off, Rand-Brown couldn’t have sent +the letters.  He wouldn’t have the time after +school.  He was on the grounds both the afternoons +before I got the letters.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said Milton; +“I didn’t think of that at the time.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“One of the points about the +Chesterton post-office is that there’s no letter-box +outside.  You have to go into the shop and hand +anything you want to post across the counter.  +I thought this was a tremendous score for me.  +I thought they would be bound to remember who handed +in the letters.  There can’t be many at +a place like that.”</p> + +<p>“Did they remember?”</p> + +<p>“They remembered the letters +being given in distinctly, but as for knowing anything +beyond that, they were simply futile.  There was +an old woman in the shop, aged about three hundred +and ten, I should think.  I shouldn’t say +she had ever been very intelligent, but now she simply +gibbered.  I started off by laying out a shilling +on some poisonous-looking sweets.  I gave the +lot to a village kid when I got out.  I hope they +didn’t kill him.  Then, having scattered +ground-bait in that way, I lugged out the photographs, +mentioned the letters and the date they had been sent, +and asked her to weigh in and identify the sender.”</p> + +<p>“Did she?”</p> + +<p>“My dear chap, she identified +them all, one after the other.  The first was +one of Clowes.  She was prepared to swear on oath +that that was the chap who had sent the letters.  +Then I shot a photograph of you across the counter, +and doubts began to creep in.  She said she was +certain it was one of those two ‘la-ads’, +but couldn’t quite say which.  To keep her +amused I fired in photograph number three—­Allardyce’s.  +She identified that, too.  At the end of ten minutes +she was pretty sure that it was one of the six—­the +other three were Paget, Clephane, and Rand-Brown—­but +she was not going to bind herself down to any particular +one.  As I had come to the end of my stock of photographs, +and was getting a bit sick of the game, I got up to +go, when in came another ornament of Chesterton from +a room at the back of the shop.  He was quite +a kid, not more than a hundred and fifty at the outside, +so, as a last chance, I tackled him on the subject.  +He looked at the photographs for about half an hour, +mumbling something about it not being ’thiccy +‘un’ or ’that ‘un’, or +’that ’ere tother ‘un’, until +I began to feel I’d had enough of it.  Then +it came out that the real chap who had sent the letters +was a ‘la-ad’ with light hair, not so big +as me—­”</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t help us much,” said +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“—­And a ‘prarper +little gennlemun’.  So all we’ve got +to do is to look for some young duke of polished manners +and exterior, with a thatch of light hair.”</p> + +<p>“There are three hundred and +sixty-seven fellows with light hair in the school,” +said Trevor, calmly.</p> + +<p>“Thought it was three hundred +and sixty-eight myself,” said Milton, “but +I may be wrong.  Anyhow, there you have the results +of my investigations.  If you can make anything +out of them, you’re welcome to it.  Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>“Half a second,” said +Trevor, as he got up; “had the fellow a cap of +any sort?”</p> + +<p>“No.  Bareheaded.  You +wouldn’t expect him to give himself away by +wearing a house-cap?”</p> + +<p>Trevor went over to the headmaster’s +revolving this discovery in his mind.  It was +not much of a clue, but the smallest clue is better +than nothing.  To find out that the sender of +the League letters had fair hair narrowed the search +down a little.  It cleared the more raven-locked +members of the school, at any rate.  Besides, by +combining his information with Milton’s, the +search might be still further narrowed down.  He +knew that the polite letter-writer must be either +in Seymour’s or in Donaldson’s.  The +number of fair-haired youths in the two houses was +not excessive.  Indeed, at the moment he could +not recall any; which rather complicated matters.</p> + +<p>He arrived at the headmaster’s +door, and knocked.  He was shown into a room at +the side of the hall, near the door.  The butler +informed him that the headmaster was engaged at present.  +Trevor, who knew the butler slightly through having +constantly been to see the headmaster on business +<i>via</i> the front door, asked who was there.</p> + +<p>“Sir Eustace Briggs,” +said the butler, and disappeared in the direction +of his lair beyond the green baize partition at the +end of the hall.</p> + +<p>Trevor went into the room, which was +a sort of spare study, and sat down, wondering what +had brought the mayor of Wrykyn to see the headmaster +at this advanced hour.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later the sound +of voices broke in upon his peace.  The headmaster +was coming down the hall with the intention of showing +his visitor out.  The door of Trevor’s room +was ajar, and he could hear distinctly what was being +said.  He had no particular desire to play the +eavesdropper, but the part was forced upon him.</p> + +<p>Sir Eustace seemed excited.</p> + +<p>“It is far from being my habit,” +he was saying, “to make unnecessary complaints +respecting the conduct of the lads under your care.” +(Sir Eustace Briggs had a distaste for the shorter +and more colloquial forms of speech.  He would +have perished sooner than have substituted “complain +of your boys” for the majestic formula he had +used.  He spoke as if he enjoyed choosing his +words.  He seemed to pause and think before each +word.  Unkind people—­who were jealous +of his distinguished career—­used to say +that he did this because he was afraid of dropping +an aitch if he relaxed his vigilance.)</p> + +<p>“But,” continued he, “I +am reluctantly forced to the unpleasant conclusion +that the dastardly outrage to which both I and the +Press of the town have called your attention is to +be attributed to one of the lads to whom I ’<i>ave</i>—­<i>have</i> +(this with a jerk) referred.”</p> + +<p>“I will make a thorough inquiry, +Sir Eustace,” said the bass voice of the headmaster.</p> + +<p>“I thank you,” said the +mayor.  “It would, under the circumstances, +be nothing more, I think, than what is distinctly +advisable.  The man Samuel Wapshott, of whose +narrative I have recently afforded you a brief synopsis, +stated in no uncertain terms that he found at the foot +of the statue on which the dastardly outrage was perpetrated +a diminutive ornament, in shape like the bats that +are used in the game of cricket.  This ornament, +he avers (with what truth I know not), was handed +by him to a youth of an age coeval with that of the +lads in the upper division of this school.  The +youth claimed it as his property, I was given to understand.”</p> + +<p>“A thorough inquiry shall be made, Sir Eustace.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you.”</p> + +<p>And then the door shut, and the conversation ceased.</p> + +<h2>XX</h2> + +<h2>THE FINDING OF THE BAT</h2> + +<p>Trevor waited till the headmaster +had gone back to his library, gave him five minutes +to settle down, and then went in.</p> + +<p>The headmaster looked up inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“My essay, sir,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes.  I had forgotten.”</p> + +<p>Trevor opened the notebook and began +to read what he had written.  He finished the +paragraph which owed its insertion to Clowes, and raced +hurriedly on to the next.  To his surprise the +flippancy passed unnoticed, at any rate, verbally.  +As a rule the headmaster preferred that quotations +from back numbers of <i>Punch</i> should be kept out +of the prefects’ English Essays.  And he +generally said as much.  But today he seemed strangely +preoccupied.  A split infinitive in paragraph five, +which at other times would have made him sit up in +his chair stiff with horror, elicited no remark.  +The same immunity was accorded to the insertion (inspired +by Clowes, as usual) of a popular catch phrase in +the last few lines.  Trevor finished with the feeling +that luck had favoured him nobly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the headmaster, +seemingly roused by the silence following on the conclusion +of the essay.  “Yes.”  Then, after +a long pause, “Yes,” again.</p> + +<p>Trevor said nothing, but waited for further comment.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the headmaster +once more, “I think that is a very fair essay.  +Very fair.  It wants a little more—­er—­not +quite so much—­<i>um</i>—­yes.”</p> + +<p>Trevor made a note in his mind to +effect these improvements in future essays, and was +getting up, when the headmaster stopped him.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go, Trevor.  I wish to speak +to you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor’s first thought was, +perhaps naturally, that the bat was going to be brought +into discussion.  He was wondering helplessly how +he was going to keep O’Hara and his midnight +exploit out of the conversation, when the headmaster +resumed.  “An unpleasant thing has happened, +Trevor—­”</p> + +<p>“Now we’re coming to it,” thought +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“It appears, Trevor, that a +considerable amount of smoking has been going on in +the school.”</p> + +<p>Trevor breathed freely once more.  +It was only going to be a mere conventional smoking +row after all.  He listened with more enjoyment +as the headmaster, having stopped to turn down the +wick of the reading-lamp which stood on the table +at his side, and which had begun, appropriately enough, +to smoke, resumed his discourse.</p> + +<p>“Mr Dexter—­”</p> + +<p>Of course, thought Trevor.  If +there ever was a row in the school, Dexter was bound +to be at the bottom of it.</p> + +<p>“Mr Dexter has just been in +to see me.  He reported six boys.  He discovered +them in the vault beneath the junior block.  Two +of them were boys in your house.”</p> + +<p>Trevor murmured something wordless, +to show that the story interested him.</p> + +<p>“You knew nothing of this, of course—­”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“No.  Of course not.  +It is difficult for the head of a house to know all +that goes on in that house.”</p> + +<p>Was this his beastly sarcasm?  +Trevor asked himself.  But he came to the conclusion +that it was not.  After all, the head of a house +is only human.  He cannot be expected to keep +an eye on the private life of every member of his +house.</p> + +<p>“This must be stopped, Trevor.  +There is no saying how widespread the practice has +become or may become.  What I want you to do is +to go straight back to your house and begin a complete +search of the studies.”</p> + +<p>“Tonight, sir?” It seemed too late for +such amusement.</p> + +<p>“Tonight.  But before you +go to your house, call at Mr Seymour’s, and +tell Milton I should like to see him.  And, Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“You will understand that I +am leaving this matter to you to be dealt with by +you.  I shall not require you to make any report +to me.  But if you should find tobacco in any +boy’s room, you must punish him well, Trevor.  +Punish him well.”</p> + +<p>This meant that the culprit must be +“touched up” before the house assembled +in the dining-room.  Such an event did not often +occur.  The last occasion had been in Paget’s +first term as head of Donaldson’s, when two +of the senior day-room had been discovered attempting +to revive the ancient and dishonourable custom of +bullying.  This time, Trevor foresaw, would set +up a record in all probability.  There might be +any number of devotees of the weed, and he meant to +carry out his instructions to the full, and make the +criminals more unhappy than they had been since the +day of their first cigar.  Trevor hated the habit +of smoking at school.  He was so intensely keen +on the success of the house and the school at games, +that anything which tended to damage the wind and +eye filled him with loathing.  That anybody should +dare to smoke in a house which was going to play in +the final for the House Football Cup made him rage +internally, and he proposed to make things bad and +unrestful for such.</p> + +<p>To smoke at school is to insult the +divine weed.  When you are obliged to smoke in +odd corners, fearing every moment that you will be +discovered, the whole meaning, poetry, romance of a +pipe vanishes, and you become like those lost beings +who smoke when they are running to catch trains.  +The boy who smokes at school is bound to come to a +bad end.  He will degenerate gradually into a +person that plays dominoes in the smoking-rooms of +A.B.C. shops with friends who wear bowler hats and +frock coats.</p> + +<p>Much of this philosophy Trevor expounded +to Clowes in energetic language when he returned to +Donaldson’s after calling at Seymour’s +to deliver the message for Milton.</p> + +<p>Clowes became quite animated at the +prospect of a real row.</p> + +<p>“We shall be able to see the +skeletons in their cupboards,” he observed.  +“Every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, which +follows him about wherever he goes.  Which study +shall we go to first?”</p> + +<p>“We?” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“We,” repeated Clowes +firmly.  “I am not going to be left out of +this jaunt.  I need bracing up—­I’m +not strong, you know—­and this is just the +thing to do it.  Besides, you’ll want a bodyguard +of some sort, in case the infuriated occupant turns +and rends you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what there +is to enjoy in the business,” said Trevor, gloomily.  +“Personally, I bar this kind of thing.  By +the time we’ve finished, there won’t be +a chap in the house I’m on speaking terms with.”</p> + +<p>“Except me, dearest,” +said Clowes.  “I will never desert you.  +It’s of no use asking me, for I will never do +it.  Mr Micawber has his faults, but I will <i>never</i> +desert Mr Micawber.”</p> + +<p>“You can come if you like,” +said Trevor; “we’ll take the studies in +order.  I suppose we needn’t look up the +prefects?”</p> + +<p>“A prefect is above suspicion.  Scratch +the prefects.”</p> + +<p>“That brings us to Dixon.”</p> + +<p>Dixon was a stout youth with spectacles, +who was popularly supposed to do twenty-two hours’ +work a day.  It was believed that he put in two +hours sleep from eleven to one, and then got up and +worked in his study till breakfast.</p> + +<p>He was working when Clowes and Trevor +came in.  He dived head foremost into a huge Liddell +and Scott as the door opened.  On hearing Trevor’s +voice he slowly emerged, and a pair of round and spectacled +eyes gazed blankly at the visitors.  Trevor briefly +explained his errand, but the interview lost in solemnity +owing to the fact that the bare notion of Dixon storing +tobacco in his room made Clowes roar with laughter.  +Also, Dixon stolidly refused to understand what Trevor +was talking about, and at the end of ten minutes, +finding it hopeless to try and explain, the two went.  +Dixon, with a hazy impression that he had been asked +to join in some sort of round game, and had refused +the offer, returned again to his Liddell and Scott, +and continued to wrestle with the somewhat obscure +utterances of the chorus in AEschylus’ <i>Agamemnon</i>.  +The results of this fiasco on Trevor and Clowes were +widely different.  Trevor it depressed horribly.  +It made him feel savage.  Clowes, on the other +hand, regarded the whole affair in a spirit of rollicking +farce, and refused to see that this was a serious +matter, in which the honour of the house was involved.</p> + +<p>The next study was Ruthven’s.  +This fact somewhat toned down the exuberances +of Clowes’s demeanour.  When one particularly +dislikes a person, one has a curious objection to +seeming in good spirits in his presence.  One +feels that he may take it as a sort of compliment to +himself, or, at any rate, contribute grins of his own, +which would be hateful.  Clowes was as grave as +Trevor when they entered the study.</p> + +<p>Ruthven’s study was like himself, +overdressed and rather futile.  It ran to little +china ornaments in a good deal of profusion.  It +was more like a drawing-room than a school study.</p> + +<p>“Sorry to disturb you, Ruthven,” said +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Oh, come in,” said Ruthven, +in a tired voice.  “Please shut the door; +there is a draught.  Do you want anything?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to have a look round,” +said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you see everything there is?”</p> + +<p>Ruthven hated Clowes as much as Clowes hated him.</p> + +<p>Trevor cut into the conversation again.</p> + +<p>“It’s like this, Ruthven,” +he said.  “I’m awfully sorry, but the +Old Man’s just told me to search the studies +in case any of the fellows have got baccy.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven jumped up, pale with consternation.</p> + +<p>“You can’t.  I won’t have you +disturbing my study.”</p> + +<p>“This is rot,” said Trevor, +shortly, “I’ve got to.  It’s +no good making it more unpleasant for me than it is.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve no tobacco.  I swear I haven’t.”</p> + +<p>“Then why mind us searching?” said Clowes +affably.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Ruthven,” said +Trevor, “chuck us over the keys.  You might +as well.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be an ass, man.”</p> + +<p>“We have here,” observed +Clowes, in his sad, solemn way, “a stout and +serviceable poker.”  He stooped, as he spoke, +to pick it up.</p> + +<p>“Leave that poker alone,” cried Ruthven.</p> + +<p>Clowes straightened himself.</p> + +<p>“I’ll swop it for your keys,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a fool.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then.  We will now crack our +first crib.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven sprang forward, but Clowes, +handing him off in football fashion with his left +hand, with his right dashed the poker against the lock +of the drawer of the table by which he stood.</p> + +<p>The lock broke with a sharp crack.  +It was not built with an eye to such onslaught.</p> + +<p>“Neat for a first shot,” +said Clowes, complacently.  “Now for the +Umustaphas and shag.”</p> + +<p>But as he looked into the drawer he +uttered a sudden cry of excitement.  He drew something +out, and tossed it over to Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Catch, Trevor,” he said +quietly.  “Something that’ll interest +you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor caught it neatly in one hand, +and stood staring at it as if he had never seen anything +like it before.  And yet he had—­often.  +For what he had caught was a little golden bat, about +an inch long by an eighth of an inch wide.</p> + +<h2>XXI</h2> + +<h2>THE LEAGUE REVEALED</h2> + +<p>“What do you think of that?” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>Trevor said nothing.  He could +not quite grasp the situation.  It was not only +that he had got the idea so firmly into his head that +it was Rand-Brown who had sent the letters and appropriated +the bat.  Even supposing he had not suspected +Rand-Brown, he would never have dreamed of suspecting +Ruthven.  They had been friends.  Not very +close friends—­Trevor’s keenness for +games and Ruthven’s dislike of them prevented +that—­but a good deal more than acquaintances.  +He was so constituted that he could not grasp the +frame of mind required for such an action as Ruthven’s.  +It was something absolutely abnormal.</p> + +<p>Clowes was equally surprised, but +for a different reason.  It was not so much the +enormity of Ruthven’s proceedings that took him +aback.  He believed him, with that cheerful intolerance +which a certain type of mind affects, capable of anything.  +What surprised him was the fact that Ruthven had had +the ingenuity and even the daring to conduct a campaign +of this description.  Cribbing in examinations +he would have thought the limit of his crimes.  +Something backboneless and underhand of that kind +would not have surprised him in the least.  He +would have said that it was just about what he had +expected all along.  But that Ruthven should blossom +out suddenly as quite an ingenious and capable criminal +in this way, was a complete surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps <i>you</i>’ll +make a remark?” he said, turning to Ruthven.</p> + +<p>Ruthven, looking very much like a +passenger on a Channel steamer who has just discovered +that the motion of the vessel is affecting him unpleasantly, +had fallen into a chair when Clowes handed him off.  +He sat there with a look on his pasty face which was +not good to see, as silent as Trevor.  It seemed +that whatever conversation there was going to be would +have to take the form of a soliloquy from Clowes.</p> + +<p>Clowes took a seat on the corner of the table.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me, Ruthven,” +he said, “that you’d better say <i>something</i>.  +At present there’s a lot that wants explaining.  +As this bat has been found lying in your drawer, I +suppose we may take it that you’re the impolite +letter-writer?”</p> + +<p>Ruthven found his voice at last.</p> + +<p>“I’m not,” he cried; “I never +wrote a line.”</p> + +<p>“Now we’re getting at +it,” said Clowes.  “I thought you couldn’t +have had it in you to carry this business through +on your own.  Apparently you’ve only been +the sleeping partner in this show, though I suppose +it was you who ragged Trevor’s study?  Not +much sleeping about that.  You took over the acting +branch of the concern for that day only, I expect.  +Was it you who ragged the study?”</p> + +<p>Ruthven stared into the fire, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Must be polite, you know, Ruthven, +and answer when you’re spoken to.  Was it +you who ragged Trevor’s study?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Thought so.”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course, I met you just +outside,” said Trevor, speaking for the first +time.  “You were the chap who told me what +had happened.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven said nothing.</p> + +<p>“The ragging of the study seems +to have been all the active work he did,” remarked +Clowes.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Trevor, “he +posted the letters, whether he wrote them or not.  +Milton was telling me—­you remember?  +I told you.  No, I didn’t.  Milton found +out that the letters were posted by a small, light-haired +fellow.”</p> + +<p>“That’s him,” said +Clowes, as regardless of grammar as the monks of Rheims, +pointing with the poker at Ruthven’s immaculate +locks.  “Well, you ragged the study and +posted the letters.  That was all your share.  +Am I right in thinking Rand-Brown was the other partner?”</p> + +<p>Silence from Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Am I?” persisted Clowes.</p> + +<p>“You may think what you like.  I don’t +care.”</p> + +<p>“Now we’re getting rude +again,” complained Clowes. “<i>Was</i> +Rand-Brown in this?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Thought so.  And who else?”</p> + +<p>“No one.”</p> + +<p>“Try again.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you there was no one +else.  Can’t you believe a word a chap says?”</p> + +<p>“A word here and there, perhaps,” +said Clowes, as one making a concession, “but +not many, and this isn’t one of them.  Have +another shot.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven relapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>“All right, then,” said +Clowes, “we’ll accept that statement.  +There’s just a chance that it may be true.  +And that’s about all, I think.  This isn’t +my affair at all, really.  It’s yours, Trevor.  +I’m only a spectator and camp-follower.  +It’s your business.  You’ll find me +in my study.”  And putting the poker carefully +in its place, Clowes left the room.  He went into +his study, and tried to begin some work.  But the +beauties of the second book of Thucydides failed to +appeal to him.  His mind was elsewhere.  He +felt too excited with what had just happened to translate +Greek.  He pulled up a chair in front of the fire, +and gave himself up to speculating how Trevor was +getting on in the neighbouring study.  He was +glad he had left him to finish the business.  If +he had been in Trevor’s place, there was nothing +he would so greatly have disliked as to have some +one—­however familiar a friend—­interfering +in his wars and settling them for him.  Left to +himself, Clowes would probably have ended the interview +by kicking Ruthven into the nearest approach to pulp +compatible with the laws relating to manslaughter.  +He had an uneasy suspicion that Trevor would let him +down far too easily.</p> + +<p>The handle turned.  Trevor came +in, and pulled up another chair in silence.  His +face wore a look of disgust.  But there were no +signs of combat upon him.  The toe of his boot +was not worn and battered, as Clowes would have liked +to have seen it.  Evidently he had not chosen to +adopt active and physical measures for the improvement +of Ruthven’s moral well-being.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“My word, what a hound!” breathed Trevor, +half to himself.</p> + +<p>“My sentiments to a hair,” +said Clowes, approvingly.  “But what have +you done?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t do anything.”</p> + +<p>“I was afraid you wouldn’t.  +Did he give any explanation?  What made him go +in for the thing at all?  What earthly motive could +he have for not wanting Barry to get his colours, +bar the fact that Rand-Brown didn’t want him +to?  And why should he do what Rand-Brown told +him?  I never even knew they were pals, before +today.”</p> + +<p>“He told me a good deal,” +said Trevor.  “It’s one of the beastliest +things I ever heard.  They neither of them come +particularly well out of the business, but Rand-Brown +comes worse out of it even than Ruthven.  My word, +that man wants killing.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll keep,” said Clowes, nodding.  +“What’s the yarn?”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember about a year +ago a chap named Patterson getting sacked?”</p> + +<p>Clowes nodded again.  He remembered +the case well.  Patterson had had gambling transactions +with a Wrykyn tradesman, had been found out, and had +gone.</p> + +<p>“You remember what a surprise +it was to everybody.  It wasn’t one of those +cases where half the school suspects what’s going +on.  Those cases always come out sooner or later.  +But Patterson nobody knew about.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody,” said Trevor, +“except Ruthven, that is.  Ruthven got to +know somehow.  I believe he was a bit of a pal +of Patterson’s at the time.  Anyhow,—­they +had a row, and Ruthven went to Dexter—­Patterson +was in Dexter’s—­and sneaked.  +Dexter promised to keep his name out of the business, +and went straight to the Old Man, and Patterson got +turfed out on the spot.  Then somehow or other +Rand-Brown got to know about it—­I believe +Ruthven must have told him by accident some time or +other.  After that he simply had to do everything +Rand-Brown wanted him to.  Otherwise he said that +he would tell the chaps about the Patterson affair.  +That put Ruthven in a dead funk.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Clowes; +“I should imagine friend Ruthven would have +got rather a bad time of it.  But what made them +think of starting the League?  It was a jolly +smart idea.  Rand-Brown’s, of course?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I suppose he’d +heard about it, and thought something might be made +out of it if it were revived.”</p> + +<p>“And were Ruthven and he the only two in it?”</p> + +<p>“Ruthven swears they were, and +I shouldn’t wonder if he wasn’t telling +the truth, for once in his life.  You see, everything +the League’s done so far could have been done +by him and Rand-Brown, without anybody else’s +help.  The only other studies that were ragged +were Mill’s and Milton’s—­both +in Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>There was a pause.  Clowes put another shovelful +of coal on the fire.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do to Ruthven?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing?  Hang it, he doesn’t +deserve to get off like that.  He isn’t as +bad as Rand-Brown—­quite—­but he’s +pretty nearly as finished a little beast as you could +find.”</p> + +<p>“Finished is just the word,” +said Trevor.  “He’s going at the end +of the week.”</p> + +<p>“Going?  What! sacked?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  The Old Man’s +been finding out things about him, apparently, and +this smoking row has just added the finishing-touch +to his discoveries.  He’s particularly keen +against smoking just now for some reason.”</p> + +<p>“But was Ruthven in it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Didn’t I tell +you?  He was one of the fellows Dexter caught in +the vault.  There were two in this house, you +remember?”</p> + +<p>“Who was the other?”</p> + +<p>“That man Dashwood.  Has +the study next to Paget’s old one.  He’s +going, too.”</p> + +<p>“Scarcely knew him.  What sort of a chap +was he?”</p> + +<p>“Outsider.  No good to the house in any +way.  He won’t be missed.”</p> + +<p>“And what are you going to do about Rand-Brown?”</p> + +<p>“Fight him, of course.  What else could +I do?”</p> + +<p>“But you’re no match for him.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see.”</p> + +<p>“But you <i>aren’t</i>,” +persisted Clowes.  “He can give you a stone +easily, and he’s not a bad boxer either.  +Moriarty didn’t beat him so very cheaply in +the middle-weight this year.  You wouldn’t +have a chance.”</p> + +<p>Trevor flared up.</p> + +<p>“Heavens, man,” he cried, +“do you think I don’t know all that myself?  +But what on earth would you have me do?  Besides, +he may be a good boxer, but he’s got no pluck +at all.  I might outstay him.”</p> + +<p>“Hope so,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>But his tone was not hopeful.</p> + +<h2>XXII</h2> + +<h2>A DRESS REHEARSAL</h2> + +<p>Some people in Trevor’s place +might have taken the earliest opportunity of confronting +Rand-Brown, so as to settle the matter in hand without +delay.  Trevor thought of doing this, but finally +decided to let the matter rest for a day, until he +should have found out with some accuracy what chance +he stood.</p> + +<p>After four o’clock, therefore, +on the next day, having had tea in his study, he went +across to the baths, in search of O’Hara.  +He intended that before the evening was over the Irishman +should have imparted to him some of his skill with +the hands.  He did not know that for a man absolutely +unscientific with his fists there is nothing so fatal +as to take a boxing lesson on the eve of battle.  +A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.  He is +apt to lose his recklessness—­which might +have stood by him well—­in exchange for +a little quite useless science.  He is neither +one thing nor the other, neither a natural fighter +nor a skilful boxer.</p> + +<p>This point O’Hara endeavoured +to press upon him as soon as he had explained why +it was that he wanted coaching on this particular +afternoon.</p> + +<p>The Irishman was in the gymnasium, +punching the ball, when Trevor found him.  He +generally put in a quarter of an hour with the punching-ball +every evening, before Moriarty turned up for the customary +six rounds.</p> + +<p>“Want me to teach ye a few tricks?” +he said.  “What’s that for?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got a mill coming +on soon,” explained Trevor, trying to make the +statement as if it were the most ordinary thing in +the world for a school prefect, who was also captain +of football, head of a house, and in the cricket eleven, +to be engaged for a fight in the near future.</p> + +<p>“Mill!” exclaimed O’Hara.  “You!  +An’ why?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind why,” said +Trevor.  “I’ll tell you afterwards, +perhaps.  Shall I put on the gloves now?”</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said O’Hara, +“I must do my quarter of an hour with the ball +before I begin teaching other people how to box.  +Have ye a watch?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then time me.  I’ll +do four rounds of three minutes each, with a minute’s +rest in between.  That’s more than I’ll +do at Aldershot, but it’ll get me fit.  +Ready?”</p> + +<p>“Time,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>He watched O’Hara assailing +the swinging ball with considerable envy.  Why, +he wondered, had he not gone in for boxing?  Everybody +ought to learn to box.  It was bound to come in +useful some time or other.  Take his own case.  +He was very much afraid—­no, afraid was not +the right word, for he was not that.  He was very +much of opinion that Rand-Brown was going to have +a most enjoyable time when they met.  And the final +house-match was to be played next Monday.  If events +turned out as he could not help feeling they were +likely to turn out, he would be too battered to play +in that match.  Donaldson’s would probably +win whether he played or not, but it would be bitter +to be laid up on such an occasion.  On the other +hand, he must go through with it.  He did not +believe in letting other people take a hand in settling +his private quarrels.</p> + +<p>But he wished he had learned to box.  +If only he could hit that dancing, jumping ball with +a fifth of the skill that O’Hara was displaying, +his wiriness and pluck might see him through.  +O’Hara finished his fourth round with his leathern +opponent, and sat down, panting.</p> + +<p>“Pretty useful, that,” commented Trevor, +admiringly.</p> + +<p>“Ye should see Moriarty,” gasped O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Now, will ye tell me why it +is you’re going to fight, and with whom you’re +going to fight?”</p> + +<p>“Very well.  It’s with Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown!” exclaimed O’Hara.  +“But, me dearr man, he’ll ate you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor gave a rather annoyed laugh.  +“I must say I’ve got a nice, cheery, comforting +lot of friends,” he said.  “That’s +just what Clowes has been trying to explain to me.”</p> + +<p>“Clowes is quite right,” +said O’Hara, seriously.  “Has the thing +gone too far for ye to back out?  Without climbing +down, of course,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Trevor, “there’s +no question of my getting out of it.  I daresay +I could.  In fact, I know I could.  But I’m +not going to.”</p> + +<p>“But, me dearr man, ye haven’t +an earthly chance.  I assure ye ye haven’t.  +I’ve seen Rand-Brown with the gloves on.  +That was last term.  He’s not put them on +since Moriarty bate him in the middles, so he may +be out of practice.  But even then he’d be +a bad man to tackle.  He’s big an’ +he’s strong, an’ if he’d only had +the heart in him he’d have been going up to +Aldershot instead of Moriarty.  That’s what +he’d be doing.  An’ you can’t +box at all.  Never even had the gloves on.”</p> + +<p>“Never.  I used to scrap when I was a kid, +though.”</p> + +<p>“That’s no use,” +said O’Hara, decidedly.  “But you haven’t +said what it is that ye’ve got against Rand-Brown.  +What is it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why I shouldn’t +tell you.  You’re in it as well.  In +fact, if it hadn’t been for the bat turning +up, you’d have been considerably more in it +than I am.”</p> + +<p>“What!” cried O’Hara.  +“Where did you find it?  Was it in the grounds?  +When was it you found it?”</p> + +<p>Whereupon Trevor gave him a very full +and exact account of what had happened.  He showed +him the two letters from the League, touched on Milton’s +connection with the affair, traced the gradual development +of his suspicions, and described with some approach +to excitement the scene in Ruthven’s study, +and the explanations that had followed it.</p> + +<p>“Now do you wonder,” he +concluded, “that I feel as if a few rounds with +Rand-Brown would do me good.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara breathed hard.</p> + +<p>“My word!” he said, “I’d like +to see ye kill him.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Trevor, “as +you and Clowes have been pointing out to me, if there’s +going to be a corpse, it’ll be me.  However, +I mean to try.  Now perhaps you wouldn’t +mind showing me a few tricks.”</p> + +<p>“Take my advice,” said O’Hara, “and +don’t try any of that foolery.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought you were such +a believer in science,” said Trevor in surprise.</p> + +<p>“So I am, if you’ve enough +of it.  But it’s the worst thing ye can do +to learn a trick or two just before a fight, if you +don’t know anything about the game already.  +A tough, rushing fighter is ten times as good as a +man who’s just begun to learn what he oughtn’t +to do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you advise me +to do, then?” asked Trevor, impressed by the +unwonted earnestness with which the Irishman delivered +this pugilistic homily, which was a paraphrase of +the views dinned into the ears of every novice by +the school instructor.</p> + +<p>“I must do something.”</p> + +<p>“The best thing ye can do,” +said O’Hara, thinking for a moment, “is +to put on the gloves and have a round or two with +me.  Here’s Moriarty at last.  We’ll +get him to time us.”</p> + +<p>As much explanation as was thought +good for him having been given to the newcomer, to +account for Trevor’s newly-acquired taste for +things pugilistic, Moriarty took the watch, with instructions +to give them two minutes for the first round.</p> + +<p>“Go as hard as you can,” +said O’Hara to Trevor, as they faced one another, +“and hit as hard as you like.  It won’t +be any practice if you don’t.  I sha’n’t +mind being hit.  It’ll do me good for Aldershot.  +See?”</p> + +<p>Trevor said he saw.</p> + +<p>“Time,” said Moriarty.</p> + +<p>Trevor went in with a will.  He +was a little shy at first of putting all his weight +into his blows.  It was hard to forget that he +felt friendly towards O’Hara.  But he speedily +awoke to the fact that the Irishman took his boxing +very seriously, and was quite a different person when +he had the gloves on.  When he was so equipped, +the man opposite him ceased to be either friend or +foe in a private way.  He was simply an opponent, +and every time he hit him was one point.  And, +when he entered the ring, his only object in life +for the next three minutes was to score points.  +Consequently Trevor, sparring lightly and in rather +a futile manner at first, was woken up by a stinging +flush hit between the eyes.  After that he, too, +forgot that he liked the man before him, and rushed +him in all directions.  There was no doubt as to +who would have won if it had been a competition.  +Trevor’s guard was of the most rudimentary order, +and O’Hara got through when and how he liked.  +But though he took a good deal, he also gave a good +deal, and O’Hara confessed himself not altogether +sorry when Moriarty called “Time”.</p> + +<p>“Man,” he said regretfully, +“why ever did ye not take up boxing before?  +Ye’d have made a splendid middle-weight.”</p> + +<p>“Well, have I a chance, do you think?” +inquired Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Ye might do it with luck,” +said O’Hara, very doubtfully.  “But,” +he added, “I’m afraid ye’ve not +much chance.”</p> + +<p>And with this poor encouragement from +his trainer and sparring-partner, Trevor was forced +to be content.</p> + +<h2>XXIII</h2> + +<h2>WHAT RENFORD SAW</h2> + +<p>The health of Master Harvey of Seymour’s +was so delicately constituted that it was an absolute +necessity that he should consume one or more hot buns +during the quarter of an hour’s interval which +split up morning school.  He was tearing across +the junior gravel towards the shop on the morning +following Trevor’s sparring practice with O’Hara, +when a melodious treble voice called his name.  +It was Renford.  He stopped, to allow his friend +to come up with him, and then made as if to resume +his way to the shop.  But Renford proposed an amendment.  +“Don’t go to the shop,” he said, +“I want to talk.”</p> + +<p>“Well, can’t you talk in the shop?”</p> + +<p>“Not what I want to tell you.  It’s +private.  Come for a stroll.”</p> + +<p>Harvey hesitated.  There were +few things he enjoyed so much as exclusive items of +school gossip (scandal preferably), but hot new buns +were among those few things.  However, he decided +on this occasion to feed the mind at the expense of +the body.  He accepted Renford’s invitation.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he asked, +as they made for the football field.  “What’s +been happening?”</p> + +<p>“It’s frightfully exciting,” said +Renford.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?”</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t tell any one.”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Of course not.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, there’s been +a big fight, and I’m one of the only chaps who +know about it so far.”</p> + +<p>“A fight?” Harvey became excited.  +“Who between?”</p> + +<p>Renford paused before delivering his +news, to emphasise the importance of it.</p> + +<p>“It was between O’Hara and Rand-Brown,” +he said at length.</p> + +<p>“<i>By Jove!</i>” said +Harvey.  Then a suspicion crept into his mind.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Renford,” he said, “if +you’re trying to green me—­”</p> + +<p>“I’m not, you ass,” +replied Renford indignantly.  “It’s +perfectly true.  I saw it myself.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, did you really?  +Where was it?  When did it come off?  Was it +a good one?  Who won?”</p> + +<p>“It was the best one I’ve ever seen.”</p> + +<p>“Did O’Hara beat him?  I hope he did.  +O’Hara’s a jolly good sort.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  They had six rounds.  +Rand-Brown got knocked out in the middle of the sixth.”</p> + +<p>“What, do you mean really knocked out, or did +he just chuck it?”</p> + +<p>“No.  He was really knocked +out.  He was on the floor for quite a time.  +By Jove, you should have seen it.  O’Hara +was ripping in the sixth round.  He was all over +him.”</p> + +<p>“Tell us about it,” said Harvey, and Renford +told.</p> + +<p>“I’d got up early,” +he said, “to feed the ferrets, and I was just +cutting over to the fives-courts with their grub, when, +just as I got across the senior gravel, I saw O’Hara +and Moriarty standing waiting near the second court.  +O’Hara knows all about the ferrets, so I didn’t +try and cut or anything.  I went up and began talking +to him.  I noticed he didn’t look particularly +keen on seeing me at first.  I asked him if he +was going to play fives.  Then he said no, and +told me what he’d really come for.  He said +he and Rand-Brown had had a row, and they’d +agreed to have it out that morning in one of the fives-courts.  +Of course, when I heard that, I was all on to see +it, so I said I’d wait, if he didn’t mind.  +He said he didn’t care, so long as I didn’t +tell everybody, so I said I wouldn’t tell anybody +except you, so he said all right, then, I could stop +if I wanted to.  So that was how I saw it.  +Well, after we’d been waiting a few minutes, +Rand-Brown came in sight, with that beast Merrett +in our house, who’d come to second him.  +It was just like one of those duels you read about, +you know.  Then O’Hara said that as I was +the only one there with a watch—­he and Rand-Brown +were in footer clothes, and Merrett and Moriarty hadn’t +got their tickers on them—­I’d better +act as timekeeper.  So I said all right, I would, +and we went to the second fives-court.  It’s +the biggest of them, you know.  I stood outside +on the bench, looking through the wire netting over +the door, so as not to be in the way when they started +scrapping.  O’Hara and Rand-Brown took off +their blazers and sweaters, and chucked them to Moriarty +and Merrett, and then Moriarty and Merrett went and +stood in two corners, and O’Hara and Rand-Brown +walked into the middle and stood up to one another.  +Rand-Brown was miles the heaviest—­by a stone, +I should think—­and he was taller and had +a longer reach.  But O’Hara looked much +fitter.  Rand-Brown looked rather flabby.</p> + +<p>“I sang out ‘Time’ +through the wire netting, and they started off at +once.  O’Hara offered to shake hands, but +Rand-Brown wouldn’t.  So they began without +it.</p> + +<p>“The first round was awfully +fast.  They kept having long rallies all over +the place.  O’Hara was a jolly sight quicker, +and Rand-Brown didn’t seem able to guard his +hits at all.  But he hit frightfully hard himself, +great, heavy slogs, and O’Hara kept getting them +in the face.  At last he got one bang in the mouth +which knocked him down flat.  He was up again +in a second, and was starting to rush, when I looked +at the watch, and found that I’d given them +nearly half a minute too much already.  So I shouted +‘Time’, and made up my mind I’d keep +more of an eye on the watch next round.  I’d +got so jolly excited, watching them, that I’d +forgot I was supposed to be keeping time for them.  +They had only asked for a minute between the rounds, +but as I’d given them half a minute too long +in the first round, I chucked in a bit extra in the +rest, so that they were both pretty fit by the time +I started them again.</p> + +<p>“The second round was just like +the first, and so was the third.  O’Hara +kept getting the worst of it.  He was knocked down +three or four times more, and once, when he’d +rushed Rand-Brown against one of the walls, he hit +out and missed, and barked his knuckles jolly badly +against the wall.  That was in the middle of the +third round, and Rand-Brown had it all his own way +for the rest of the round—­for about two +minutes, that is to say.  He hit O’Hara +about all over the shop.  I was so jolly keen +on O’Hara’s winning, that I had half a +mind to call time early, so as to give him time to +recover.  But I thought it would be a low thing +to do, so I gave them their full three minutes.</p> + +<p>“Directly they began the fourth +round, I noticed that things were going to change +a bit.  O’Hara had given up his rushing game, +and was waiting for his man, and when he came at him +he’d put in a hot counter, nearly always at +the body.  After a bit Rand-Brown began to get +cautious, and wouldn’t rush, so the fourth round +was the quietest there had been.  In the last +minute they didn’t hit each other at all.  +They simply sparred for openings.  It was in the +fifth round that O’Hara began to forge ahead.  +About half way through he got in a ripper, right in +the wind, which almost doubled Rand-Brown up, and +then he started rushing again.  Rand-Brown looked +awfully bad at the end of the round.  Round six +was ripping.  I never saw two chaps go for each +other so.  It was one long rally.  Then—­how +it happened I couldn’t see, they were so quick—­just +as they had been at it a minute and a half, there was +a crack, and the next thing I saw was Rand-Brown on +the ground, looking beastly.  He went down absolutely +flat; his heels and head touched the ground at the +same time.</p> + +<p>“I counted ten out loud in the +professional way like they do at the National Sporting +Club, you know, and then said ‘O’Hara wins’.  +I felt an awful swell.  After about another half-minute, +Rand-Brown was all right again, and he got up and +went back to the house with Merrett, and O’Hara +and Moriarty went off to Dexter’s, and I gave +the ferrets their grub, and cut back to breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown wasn’t at breakfast,” +said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“No.  He went to bed.  +I wonder what’ll happen.  Think there’ll +be a row about it?”</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t think so,” +said Harvey.  “They never do make rows about +fights, and neither of them is a prefect, so I don’t +see what it matters if they <i>do</i> fight.  +But, I say—­”</p> + +<p>“What’s up?”</p> + +<p>“I wish,” said Harvey, +his voice full of acute regret, “that it had +been my turn to feed those ferrets.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said +Renford cheerfully.  “I wouldn’t have +missed that mill for something.  Hullo, there’s +the bell.  We’d better run.”</p> + +<p>When Trevor called at Seymour’s +that afternoon to see Rand-Brown, with a view to challenging +him to deadly combat, and found that O’Hara had +been before him, he ought to have felt relieved.  +His actual feeling was one of acute annoyance.  +It seemed to him that O’Hara had exceeded the +limits of friendship.  It was all very well for +him to take over the Rand-Brown contract, and settle +it himself, in order to save Trevor from a very bad +quarter of an hour, but Trevor was one of those people +who object strongly to the interference of other people +in their private business.  He sought out O’Hara +and complained.  Within two minutes O’Hara’s +golden eloquence had soothed him and made him view +the matter in quite a different light.  What O’Hara +pointed out was that it was not Trevor’s affair +at all, but his own.  Who, he asked, had been +likely to be damaged most by Rand-Brown’s manoeuvres +in connection with the lost bat?  Trevor was bound +to admit that O’Hara was that person.  Very +well, then, said O’Hara, then who had a better +right to fight Rand-Brown?  And Trevor confessed +that no one else had a better.</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose,” he said, +“that I shall have to do nothing about it?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” said O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“It’ll be rather beastly +meeting the man after this,” said Trevor, presently.  +“Do you think he might possibly leave at the +end of term?”</p> + +<p>“He’s leaving at the end +of the week,” said O’Hara.  “He +was one of the fellows Dexter caught in the vault +that evening.  You won’t see much more of +Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try and put up with that,” +said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“And so will I,” replied +O’Hara.  “And I shouldn’t think +Milton would be so very grieved.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Trevor.  +“I tell you what will make him sick, though, +and that is your having milled with Rand-Brown.  +It’s a job he’d have liked to have taken +on himself.”</p> + +<h2>XXIV</h2> + +<h2>CONCLUSION</h2> + +<p>Into the story at this point comes +the narrative of Charles Mereweather Cook, aged fourteen, +a day-boy.</p> + +<p>Cook arrived at the school on the +tenth of March, at precisely nine o’clock, in +a state of excitement.</p> + +<p>He said there was a row on in the town.</p> + +<p>Cross-examined, he said there was no end of a row +on in the town.</p> + +<p>During morning school he explained +further, whispering his tale into the attentive ear +of Knight of the School House, who sat next to him.</p> + +<p>What sort of a row, Knight wanted to know.</p> + +<p>Cook deposed that he had been riding +on his bicycle past the entrance to the Recreation +Grounds on his way to school, when his eye was attracted +by the movements of a mass of men just inside the gate.  +They appeared to be fighting.  Witness did not +stop to watch, much as he would have liked to do so.  +Why not?  Why, because he was late already, and +would have had to scorch anyhow, in order to get to +school in time.  And he had been late the day +before, and was afraid that old Appleby (the master +of the form) would give him beans if he were late again.  +Wherefore he had no notion of what the men were fighting +about, but he betted that more would be heard about +it.  Why?  Because, from what he saw of it, +it seemed a jolly big thing.  There must have been +quite three hundred men fighting. (Knight, satirically, +“<i>Pile</i> it on!”) Well, quite a hundred, +anyhow.  Fifty a side.  And fighting like +anything.  He betted there would be something about +it in the <i>Wrykyn Patriot</i> tomorrow.  +He shouldn’t wonder if somebody had been killed.  +What were they scrapping about?  How should <i>he</i> +know!</p> + +<p>Here Mr Appleby, who had been trying +for the last five minutes to find out where the whispering +noise came from, at length traced it to its source, +and forthwith requested Messrs Cook and Knight to do +him two hundred lines, adding that, if he heard them +talking again, he would put them into the extra lesson.  +Silence reigned from that moment.</p> + +<p>Next day, while the form was wrestling +with the moderately exciting account of Caesar’s +doings in Gaul, Master Cook produced from his pocket +a newspaper cutting.  This, having previously planted +a forcible blow in his friend’s ribs with an +elbow to attract the latter’s attention, he +handed to Knight, and in dumb show requested him to +peruse the same.  Which Knight, feeling no interest +whatever in Caesar’s doings in Gaul, and having, +in consequence, a good deal of time on his hands, +proceeded to do.  The cutting was headed “Disgraceful +Fracas”, and was written in the elegant style +that was always so marked a feature of the <i>Wrykyn +Patriot</i>.</p> + +<p>“We are sorry to have to report,” +it ran, “another of those deplorable ebullitions +of local Hooliganism, to which it has before now been +our painful duty to refer.  Yesterday the Recreation +Grounds were made the scene of as brutal an exhibition +of savagery as has ever marred the fair fame of this +town.  Our readers will remember how on a previous +occasion, when the fine statue of Sir Eustace Briggs +was found covered with tar, we attributed the act +to the malevolence of the Radical section of the community.  +Events have proved that we were right.  Yesterday +a body of youths, belonging to the rival party, was +discovered in the very act of repeating the offence.  +A thick coating of tar had already been administered, +when several members of the rival faction appeared.  +A free fight of a peculiarly violent nature immediately +ensued, with the result that, before the police could +interfere, several of the combatants had received severe +bruises.  Fortunately the police then arrived +on the scene, and with great difficulty succeeded +in putting a stop to the <i>fracas</i>.  Several +arrests were made.</p> + +<p>“We have no desire to discourage +legitimate party rivalry, but we feel justified in +strongly protesting against such dastardly tricks as +those to which we have referred.  We can assure +our opponents that they can gain nothing by such conduct.”</p> + +<p>There was a good deal more to the +effect that now was the time for all good men to come +to the aid of the party, and that the constituents +of Sir Eustace Briggs must look to it that they failed +not in the hour of need, and so on.  That was +what the <i>Wrykyn Patriot</i> had to say on the subject.</p> + +<p>O’Hara managed to get hold of +a copy of the paper, and showed it to Clowes and Trevor.</p> + +<p>“So now,” he said, “it’s +all right, ye see.  They’ll never suspect +it wasn’t the same people that tarred the statue +both times.  An’ ye’ve got the bat +back, so it’s all right, ye see.”</p> + +<p>“The only thing that’ll +trouble you now,” said Clowes, “will be +your conscience.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara intimated that he would try and put up +with that.</p> + +<p>“But isn’t it a stroke +of luck,” he said, “that they should have +gone and tarred Sir Eustace again so soon after Moriarty +and I did it?”</p> + +<p>Clowes said gravely that it only showed +the force of good example.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  They wouldn’t +have thought of it, if it hadn’t been for us,” +chortled O’Hara.  “I wonder, now, if +there’s anything else we could do to that statue!” +he added, meditatively.</p> + +<p>“My good lunatic,” said +Clowes, “don’t you think you’ve done +almost enough for one term?”</p> + +<p>“Well, ’<i>myes</i>,” +replied O’Hara thoughtfully, “perhaps we +have, I suppose.”</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>The term wore on.  Donaldson’s +won the final house-match by a matter of twenty-six +points.  It was, as they had expected, one of the +easiest games they had had to play in the competition.  +Bryant’s, who were their opponents, were not +strong, and had only managed to get into the final +owing to their luck in drawing weak opponents for the +trial heats.  The real final, that had decided +the ownership of the cup, had been Donaldson’s +<i>v.</i> Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>Aldershot arrived, and the sports.  +Drummond and O’Hara covered themselves with +glory, and brought home silver medals.  But Moriarty, +to the disappointment of the school, which had counted +on his pulling off the middles, met a strenuous gentleman +from St Paul’s in the final, and was prematurely +outed in the first minute of the third round.  +To him, therefore, there fell but a medal of bronze.</p> + +<p>It was on the Sunday after the sports +that Trevor’s connection with the bat ceased—­as +far, that is to say, as concerned its unpleasant character +(as a piece of evidence that might be used to his +disadvantage).  He had gone to supper with the +headmaster, accompanied by Clowes and Milton.  +The headmaster nearly always invited a few of the +house prefects to Sunday supper during the term.  +Sir Eustace Briggs happened to be there.  He had +withdrawn his insinuations concerning the part supposedly +played by a member of the school in the matter of the +tarred statue, and the headmaster had sealed the <i>entente +cordiale</i> by asking him to supper.</p> + +<p>An ordinary man might have considered +it best to keep off the delicate subject.  Not +so Sir Eustace Briggs.  He was on to it like glue.  +He talked of little else throughout the whole course +of the meal.</p> + +<p>“My suspicions,” he boomed, +towards the conclusion of the feast, “which +have, I am rejoiced to say, proved so entirely void +of foundation and significance, were aroused in the +first instance, as I mentioned before, by the narrative +of the man Samuel Wapshott.”</p> + +<p>Nobody present showed the slightest +desire to learn what the man Samuel Wapshott had had +to say for himself, but Sir Eustace, undismayed, continued +as if the whole table were hanging on his words.</p> + +<p>“The man Samuel Wapshott,” +he said, “distinctly asserted that a small gold +ornament, shaped like a bat, was handed by him to a +lad of age coeval with these lads here.”</p> + +<p>The headmaster interposed.  He +had evidently heard more than enough of the man Samuel +Wapshott.</p> + +<p>“He must have been mistaken,” +he said briefly.  “The bat which Trevor is +wearing on his watch-chain at this moment is the only +one of its kind that I know of.  You have never +lost it, Trevor?”</p> + +<p>Trevor thought for a moment. <i>He</i> +had never lost it.  He replied diplomatically, +“It has been in a drawer nearly all the term, +sir,” he said.</p> + +<p>“A drawer, hey?” remarked +Sir Eustace Briggs.  “Ah!  A very sensible +place to keep it in, my boy.  You could have no +better place, in my opinion.”</p> + +<p>And Trevor agreed with him, with the +mental reservation that it rather depended on whom +the drawer belonged to.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bat, by P. 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Wodehouse + +Posting Date: August 26, 2012 [EBook #6879] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 6, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAT *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + + +THE GOLD BAT + + + + + +by P. G. Wodehouse + +1904 + + + + + +[Dedication] +To +THAT PRINCE OF SLACKERS, +HERBERT WESTBROOK + + + +CONTENTS + + +Chapter + +I THE FIFTEENTH PLACE + +II THE GOLD BAT + +III THE MAYOR'S STATUE + +IV THE LEAGUE'S WARNING + +V MILL RECEIVES VISITORS + +VI TREVOR REMAINS FIRM + +VII "WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE" + +VIII O'HARA ON THE TRACK + +IX MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS + +X BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS + +XI THE HOUSE-MATCHES + +XII NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT + +XIII VICTIM NUMBER THREE + +XIV THE WHITE FIGURE + +XV A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE + +XVI THE RIPTON MATCH + +XVII THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT + +XVIII O'HARA EXCELS HIMSELF + +XIX THE MAYOR'S VISIT + +XX THE FINDING OF THE BAT + +XXI THE LEAGUE REVEALED + +XXII A DRESS REHEARSAL + +XXIII WHAT RENFORD SAW + +XXIV CONCLUSION + + + + +I + +THE FIFTEENTH PLACE + + +"Outside!" + +"Don't be an idiot, man. I bagged it first." + +"My dear chap, I've been waiting here a month." + +"When you fellows have _quite_ finished rotting about in front of +that bath don't let _me_ detain you." + +"Anybody seen that sponge?" + +"Well, look here"--this in a tone of compromise--"let's toss for it." + +"All right. Odd man out." + +All of which, being interpreted, meant that the first match of the +Easter term had just come to an end, and that those of the team who, +being day boys, changed over at the pavilion, instead of performing the +operation at leisure and in comfort, as did the members of houses, were +discussing the vital question--who was to have first bath? + +The Field Sports Committee at Wrykyn--that is, at the school which +stood some half-mile outside that town and took its name from it--were +not lavish in their expenditure as regarded the changing accommodation +in the pavilion. Letters appeared in every second number of the +_Wrykinian_, some short, others long, some from members of the +school, others from Old Boys, all protesting against the condition of +the first, second, and third fifteen dressing-rooms. "Indignant" would +inquire acidly, in half a page of small type, if the editor happened to +be aware that there was no hair-brush in the second room, and only half +a comb. "Disgusted O. W." would remark that when he came down with the +Wandering Zephyrs to play against the third fifteen, the water supply +had suddenly and mysteriously failed, and the W.Z.'s had been obliged +to go home as they were, in a state of primeval grime, and he thought +that this was "a very bad thing in a school of over six hundred boys", +though what the number of boys had to do with the fact that there was +no water he omitted to explain. The editor would express his regret in +brackets, and things would go on as before. + +There was only one bath in the first fifteen room, and there were on +the present occasion six claimants to it. And each claimant was of the +fixed opinion that, whatever happened subsequently, he was going to +have it first. Finally, on the suggestion of Otway, who had reduced +tossing to a fine art, a mystic game of Tommy Dodd was played. Otway +having triumphantly obtained first innings, the conversation reverted +to the subject of the match. + +The Easter term always opened with a scratch game against a mixed team +of masters and old boys, and the school usually won without any great +exertion. On this occasion the match had been rather more even than the +average, and the team had only just pulled the thing off by a couple of +tries to a goal. Otway expressed an opinion that the school had played +badly. + +"Why on earth don't you forwards let the ball out occasionally?" he +asked. Otway was one of the first fifteen halves. + +"They were so jolly heavy in the scrum," said Maurice, one of the +forwards. "And when we did let it out, the outsides nearly always +mucked it." + +"Well, it wasn't the halves' fault. We always got it out to the +centres." + +"It wasn't the centres," put in Robinson. "They played awfully well. +Trevor was ripping." + +"Trevor always is," said Otway; "I should think he's about the best +captain we've had here for a long time. He's certainly one of the best +centres." + +"Best there's been since Rivers-Jones," said Clephane. + +Rivers-Jones was one of those players who mark an epoch. He had been in +the team fifteen years ago, and had left Wrykyn to captain Cambridge +and play three years in succession for Wales. The school regarded the +standard set by him as one that did not admit of comparison. However +good a Wrykyn centre three-quarter might be, the most he could hope to +be considered was "the best _since_ Rivers-Jones". "Since" +Rivers-Jones, however, covered fifteen years, and to be looked on as +the best centre the school could boast of during that time, meant +something. For Wrykyn knew how to play football. + +Since it had been decided thus that the faults in the school attack did +not lie with the halves, forwards, or centres, it was more or less +evident that they must be attributable to the wings. And the search for +the weak spot was even further narrowed down by the general verdict +that Clowes, on the left wing, had played well. With a beautiful +unanimity the six occupants of the first fifteen room came to the +conclusion that the man who had let the team down that day had been the +man on the right--Rand-Brown, to wit, of Seymour's. + +"I'll bet he doesn't stay in the first long," said Clephane, who was +now in the bath, _vice_ Otway, retired. "I suppose they had to try +him, as he was the senior wing three-quarter of the second, but he's no +earthly good." + +"He only got into the second because he's big," was Robinson's opinion. +"A man who's big and strong can always get his second colours." + +"Even if he's a funk, like Rand-Brown," said Clephane. "Did any of you +chaps notice the way he let Paget through that time he scored for them? +He simply didn't attempt to tackle him. He could have brought him down +like a shot if he'd only gone for him. Paget was running straight along +the touch-line, and hadn't any room to dodge. I know Trevor was jolly +sick about it. And then he let him through once before in just the same +way in the first half, only Trevor got round and stopped him. He was +rank." + +"Missed every other pass, too," said Otway. + +Clephane summed up. + +"He was rank," he said again. "Trevor won't keep him in the team long." + +"I wish Paget hadn't left," said Otway, referring to the wing +three-quarter who, by leaving unexpectedly at the end of the Christmas +term, had let Rand-Brown into the team. His loss was likely to be felt. +Up till Christmas Wrykyn had done well, and Paget had been their scoring +man. Rand-Brown had occupied a similar position in the second fifteen. +He was big and speedy, and in second fifteen matches these qualities +make up for a great deal. If a man scores one or two tries in nearly +every match, people are inclined to overlook in him such failings as +timidity and clumsiness. It is only when he comes to be tried in +football of a higher class that he is seen through. In the second +fifteen the fact that Rand-Brown was afraid to tackle his man had +almost escaped notice. But the habit would not do in first fifteen +circles. + +"All the same," said Clephane, pursuing his subject, "if they don't +play him, I don't see who they're going to get. He's the best of the +second three-quarters, as far as I can see." + +It was this very problem that was puzzling Trevor, as he walked off the +field with Paget and Clowes, when they had got into their blazers after +the match. Clowes was in the same house as Trevor--Donaldson's--and +Paget was staying there, too. He had been head of Donaldson's up to +Christmas. + +"It strikes me," said Paget, "the school haven't got over the holidays +yet. I never saw such a lot of slackers. You ought to have taken thirty +points off the sort of team you had against you today." + +"Have you ever known the school play well on the second day of term?" +asked Clowes. "The forwards always play as if the whole thing bored +them to death." + +"It wasn't the forwards that mattered so much," said Trevor. "They'll +shake down all right after a few matches. A little running and passing +will put them right." + +"Let's hope so," Paget observed, "or we might as well scratch to Ripton +at once. There's a jolly sight too much of the mince-pie and Christmas +pudding about their play at present." There was a pause. Then Paget +brought out the question towards which he had been moving all the time. + +"What do you think of Rand-Brown?" he asked. + +It was pretty clear by the way he spoke what he thought of that player +himself, but in discussing with a football captain the capabilities of +the various members of his team, it is best to avoid a too positive +statement one way or the other before one has heard his views on the +subject. And Paget was one of those people who like to know the +opinions of others before committing themselves. + +Clowes, on the other hand, was in the habit of forming his views on his +own account, and expressing them. If people agreed with them, well and +good: it afforded strong presumptive evidence of their sanity. If they +disagreed, it was unfortunate, but he was not going to alter his +opinions for that, unless convinced at great length that they were +unsound. He summed things up, and gave you the result. You could take +it or leave it, as you preferred. + +"I thought he was bad," said Clowes. + +"Bad!" exclaimed Trevor, "he was a disgrace. One can understand a chap +having his off-days at any game, but one doesn't expect a man in the +Wrykyn first to funk. He mucked five out of every six passes I gave +him, too, and the ball wasn't a bit slippery. Still, I shouldn't mind +that so much if he had only gone for his man properly. It isn't being +out of practice that makes you funk. And even when he did have a try at +you, Paget, he always went high." + +"That," said Clowes thoughtfully, "would seem to show that he was +game." + +Nobody so much as smiled. Nobody ever did smile at Clowes' essays in +wit, perhaps because of the solemn, almost sad, tone of voice in which +he delivered them. He was tall and dark and thin, and had a pensive +eye, which encouraged the more soulful of his female relatives to +entertain hopes that he would some day take orders. + +"Well," said Paget, relieved at finding that he did not stand alone in +his views on Rand-Brown's performance, "I must say I thought he was +awfully bad myself." + +"I shall try somebody else next match," said Trevor. "It'll be rather +hard, though. The man one would naturally put in, Bryce, left at +Christmas, worse luck." + +Bryce was the other wing three-quarter of the second fifteen. + +"Isn't there anybody in the third?" asked Paget. + +"Barry," said Clowes briefly. + +"Clowes thinks Barry's good," explained Trevor. + +"He _is_ good," said Clowes. "I admit he's small, but he can +tackle." + +"The question is, would he be any good in the first? A chap might do +jolly well for the third, and still not be worth trying for the first." + +"I don't remember much about Barry," said Paget, "except being collared +by him when we played Seymour's last year in the final. I certainly +came away with a sort of impression that he could tackle. I thought he +marked me jolly well." + +"There you are, then," said Clowes. "A year ago Barry could tackle +Paget. There's no reason for supposing that he's fallen off since then. +We've seen that Rand-Brown _can't_ tackle Paget. Ergo, Barry is +better worth playing for the team than Rand-Brown. Q.E.D." + +"All right, then," replied Trevor. "There can't be any harm in trying +him. We'll have another scratch game on Thursday. Will you be here +then, Paget?" + +"Oh, yes. I'm stopping till Saturday." + +"Good man. Then we shall be able to see how he does against you. I wish +you hadn't left, though, by Jove. We should have had Ripton on toast, +the same as last term." + +Wrykyn played five schools, but six school matches. The school that +they played twice in the season was Ripton. To win one Ripton match +meant that, however many losses it might have sustained in the other +matches, the school had had, at any rate, a passable season. To win two +Ripton matches in the same year was almost unheard of. This year there +had seemed every likelihood of it. The match before Christmas on the +Ripton ground had resulted in a win for Wrykyn by two goals and a try +to a try. But the calculations of the school had been upset by the +sudden departure of Paget at the end of term, and also of Bryce, who +had hitherto been regarded as his understudy. And in the first Ripton +match the two goals had both been scored by Paget, and both had been +brilliant bits of individual play, which a lesser man could not have +carried through. + +The conclusion, therefore, at which the school reluctantly arrived, was +that their chances of winning the second match could not be judged by +their previous success. They would have to approach the Easter term +fixture from another--a non-Paget--standpoint. In these circumstances +it became a serious problem: who was to get the fifteenth place? +Whoever played in Paget's stead against Ripton would be certain, if the +match were won, to receive his colours. Who, then, would fill the +vacancy? + +"Rand-Brown, of course," said the crowd. + +But the experts, as we have shown, were of a different opinion. + + + + +II + +THE GOLD BAT + + +Trevor did not take long to resume a garb of civilisation. He never +wasted much time over anything. He was gifted with a boundless energy, +which might possibly have made him unpopular had he not justified it by +results. The football of the school had never been in such a +flourishing condition as it had attained to on his succeeding to the +captaincy. It was not only that the first fifteen was good. The +excellence of a first fifteen does not always depend on the captain. +But the games, even down to the very humblest junior game, had woken up +one morning--at the beginning of the previous term--to find themselves, +much to their surprise, organised going concerns. Like the immortal +Captain Pott, Trevor was "a terror to the shirker and the lubber". And +the resemblance was further increased by the fact that he was "a +toughish lot", who was "little, but steel and india-rubber". At first +sight his appearance was not imposing. Paterfamilias, who had heard his +son's eulogies on Trevor's performances during the holidays, and came +down to watch the school play a match, was generally rather +disappointed on seeing five feet six where he had looked for at least +six foot one, and ten stone where he had expected thirteen. But then, +what there was of Trevor was, as previously remarked, steel and +india-rubber, and he certainly played football like a miniature +Stoddart. It was characteristic of him that, though this was the +first match of the term, his condition seemed to be as good as +possible. He had done all his own work on the field and most of +Rand-Brown's, and apparently had not turned a hair. He was one of +those conscientious people who train in the holidays. + +When he had changed, he went down the passage to Clowes' study. Clowes was +in the position he frequently took up when the weather was good--wedged +into his window in a sitting position, one leg in the study, the other +hanging outside over space. The indoor leg lacked a boot, so that it was +evident that its owner had at least had the energy to begin to change. +That he had given the thing up after that, exhausted with the effort, was +what one naturally expected from Clowes. He would have made a splendid +actor: he was so good at resting. + +"Hurry up and dress," said Trevor; "I want you to come over to the +baths." + +"What on earth do you want over at the baths?" + +"I want to see O'Hara." + +"Oh, yes, I remember. Dexter's are camping out there, aren't they? I +heard they were. Why is it?" + +"One of the Dexter kids got measles in the last week of the holidays, +so they shunted all the beds and things across, and the chaps went back +there instead of to the house." + +In the winter term the baths were always boarded over and converted +into a sort of extra gymnasium where you could go and box or fence when +there was no room to do it in the real gymnasium. Socker and stump-cricket +were also largely played there, the floor being admirably suited to such +games, though the light was always rather tricky, and prevented heavy +scoring. + +"I should think," said Clowes, "from what I've seen of Dexter's +beauties, that Dexter would like them to camp out at the bottom of the +baths all the year round. It would be a happy release for him if they +were all drowned. And I suppose if he had to choose any one of them for +a violent death, he'd pick O'Hara. O'Hara must be a boon to a +house-master. I've known chaps break rules when the spirit moved +them, but he's the only one I've met who breaks them all day long +and well into the night simply for amusement. I've often thought of +writing to the S.P.C.A. about it. I suppose you could call Dexter an +animal all right?" + +"O'Hara's right enough, really. A man like Dexter would make any fellow +run amuck. And then O'Hara's an Irishman to start with, which makes a +difference." + +There is usually one house in every school of the black sheep sort, +and, if you go to the root of the matter, you will generally find that +the fault is with the master of that house. A house-master who enters +into the life of his house, coaches them in games--if an athlete--or, +if not an athlete, watches the games, umpiring at cricket and +refereeing at football, never finds much difficulty in keeping order. +It may be accepted as fact that the juniors of a house will never be +orderly of their own free will, but disturbances in the junior day-room +do not make the house undisciplined. The prefects are the criterion. +If you find them joining in the general "rags", and even starting +private ones on their own account, then you may safely say that it is +time the master of that house retired from the business, and took to +chicken-farming. And that was the state of things in Dexter's. It was +the most lawless of the houses. Mr Dexter belonged to a type of master +almost unknown at a public school--the usher type. In a private school +he might have passed. At Wrykyn he was out of place. To him the whole +duty of a house-master appeared to be to wage war against his house. + +When Dexter's won the final for the cricket cup in the summer term of +two years back, the match lasted four afternoons--four solid afternoons +of glorious, up-and-down cricket. Mr Dexter did not see a single ball of +that match bowled. He was prowling in sequestered lanes and broken-down +barns out of bounds on the off-chance that he might catch some member of +his house smoking there. As if the whole of the house, from the head to +the smallest fag, were not on the field watching Day's best bats collapse +before Henderson's bowling, and Moriarty hit up that marvellous and +unexpected fifty-three at the end of the second innings! + +That sort of thing definitely stamps a master. + +"What do you want to see O'Hara about?" asked Clowes. + +"He's got my little gold bat. I lent it him in the holidays." + +A remark which needs a footnote. The bat referred to was made of gold, +and was about an inch long by an eighth broad. It had come into +existence some ten years previously, in the following manner. The +inter-house cricket cup at Wrykyn had originally been a rather +tarnished and unimpressive vessel, whose only merit consisted in the +fact that it was of silver. Ten years ago an Old Wrykinian, suddenly +reflecting that it would not be a bad idea to do something for the +school in a small way, hied him to the nearest jeweller's and purchased +another silver cup, vast withal and cunningly decorated with filigree +work, and standing on a massive ebony plinth, round which were little +silver lozenges just big enough to hold the name of the winning house +and the year of grace. This he presented with his blessing to be +competed for by the dozen houses that made up the school of Wrykyn, and +it was formally established as the house cricket cup. The question now +arose: what was to be done with the other cup? The School House, who +happened to be the holders at the time, suggested disinterestedly that +it should become the property of the house which had won it last. "Not +so," replied the Field Sports Committee, "but far otherwise. We will +have it melted down in a fiery furnace, and thereafter fashioned into +eleven little silver bats. And these little silver bats shall be the +guerdon of the eleven members of the winning team, to have and to hold +for the space of one year, unless, by winning the cup twice in +succession, they gain the right of keeping the bat for yet another +year. How is that, umpire?" And the authorities replied, "O men of +infinite resource and sagacity, verily is it a cold day when _you_ +get left behind. Forge ahead." But, when they had forged ahead, behold! +it would not run to eleven little silver bats, but only to ten little +silver bats. Thereupon the headmaster, a man liberal with his cash, +caused an eleventh little bat to be fashioned--for the captain of the +winning team to have and to hold in the manner aforesaid. And, to +single it out from the others, it was wrought, not of silver, but of +gold. And so it came to pass that at the time of our story Trevor was +in possession of the little gold bat, because Donaldson's had won the +cup in the previous summer, and he had captained them--and, +incidentally, had scored seventy-five without a mistake. + +"Well, I'm hanged if I would trust O'Hara with my bat," said Clowes, +referring to the silver ornament on his own watch-chain; "he's probably +pawned yours in the holidays. Why did you lend it to him?" + +"His people wanted to see it. I know him at home, you know. They asked +me to lunch the last day but one of the holidays, and we got talking +about the bat, because, of course, if we hadn't beaten Dexter's in the +final, O'Hara would have had it himself. So I sent it over next day +with a note asking O'Hara to bring it back with him here." + +"Oh, well, there's a chance, then, seeing he's only had it so little +time, that he hasn't pawned it yet. You'd better rush off and get it +back as soon as possible. It's no good waiting for me. I shan't be +ready for weeks." + +"Where's Paget?" + +"Teaing with Donaldson. At least, he said he was going to." + +"Then I suppose I shall have to go alone. I hate walking alone." + +"If you hurry," said Clowes, scanning the road from his post of +vantage, "you'll be able to go with your fascinating pal Ruthven. He's +just gone out." + +Trevor dashed downstairs in his energetic way, and overtook the youth +referred to. + +Clowes brooded over them from above like a sorrowful and rather +disgusted Providence. Trevor's liking for Ruthven, who was a +Donaldsonite like himself, was one of the few points on which the two +had any real disagreement. Clowes could not understand how any person +in his senses could of his own free will make an intimate friend of +Ruthven. + +"Hullo, Trevor," said Ruthven. + +"Come over to the baths," said Trevor, "I want to see O'Hara about +something. Or were you going somewhere else." + +"I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I never know what to do in +term-time. It's deadly dull." + +Trevor could never understand how any one could find term-time dull. +For his own part, there always seemed too much to do in the time. + +"You aren't allowed to play games?" he said, remembering something +about a doctor's certificate in the past. + +"No," said Ruthven. "Thank goodness," he added. + +Which remark silenced Trevor. To a person who thanked goodness that he +was not allowed to play games he could find nothing to say. But he +ceased to wonder how it was that Ruthven was dull. + +They proceeded to the baths together in silence. O'Hara, they were +informed by a Dexter's fag who met them outside the door, was not +about. + +"When he comes back," said Trevor, "tell him I want him to come to tea +tomorrow directly after school, and bring my bat. Don't forget." + +The fag promised to make a point of it. + + + + +III + +THE MAYOR'S STATUE + + +One of the rules that governed the life of Donough O'Hara, the +light-hearted descendant of the O'Haras of Castle Taterfields, Co. +Clare, Ireland, was "Never refuse the offer of a free tea". So, on +receipt--per the Dexter's fag referred to--of Trevor's invitation, he +scratched one engagement (with his mathematical master--not wholly +unconnected with the working-out of Examples 200 to 206 in Hall and +Knight's Algebra), postponed another (with his friend and ally Moriarty, +of Dexter's, who wished to box with him in the gymnasium), and made his +way at a leisurely pace towards Donaldson's. He was feeling particularly +pleased with himself today, for several reasons. He had begun the day +well by scoring brilliantly off Mr Dexter across the matutinal rasher +and coffee. In morning school he had been put on to translate the one +passage which he happened to have prepared--the first ten lines, in +fact, of the hundred which formed the morning's lesson. And in the +final hour of afternoon school, which was devoted to French, he had +discovered and exploited with great success an entirely new and original +form of ragging. This, he felt, was the strenuous life; this was living +one's life as one's life should be lived. + +He met Trevor at the gate. As they were going in, a carriage and pair +dashed past. Its cargo consisted of two people, the headmaster, looking +bored, and a small, dapper man, with a very red face, who looked +excited, and was talking volubly. Trevor and O'Hara raised their caps +as the chariot swept by, but the salute passed unnoticed. The Head +appeared to be wrapped in thought. + +"What's the Old Man doing in a carriage, I wonder," said Trevor, +looking after them. "Who's that with him?" + +"That," said O'Hara, "is Sir Eustace Briggs." + +"Who's Sir Eustace Briggs?" + +O'Hara explained, in a rich brogue, that Sir Eustace was Mayor of +Wrykyn, a keen politician, and a hater of the Irish nation, judging by +his letters and speeches. + +They went into Trevor's study. Clowes was occupying the window in his +usual manner. + +"Hullo, O'Hara," he said, "there is an air of quiet satisfaction about +you that seems to show that you've been ragging Dexter. Have you?" + +"Oh, that was only this morning at breakfast. The best rag was in +French," replied O'Hara, who then proceeded to explain in detail the +methods he had employed to embitter the existence of the hapless Gallic +exile with whom he had come in contact. It was that gentleman's custom +to sit on a certain desk while conducting the lesson. This desk chanced +to be O'Hara's. On the principle that a man may do what he likes with +his own, he had entered the room privily in the dinner-hour, and +removed the screws from his desk, with the result that for the first +half-hour of the lesson the class had been occupied in excavating M. +Gandinois from the ruins. That gentleman's first act on regaining his +equilibrium had been to send O'Hara out of the room, and O'Hara, who +had foreseen this emergency, had spent a very pleasant half-hour in the +passage with some mixed chocolates and a copy of Mr Hornung's +_Amateur Cracksman_. It was his notion of a cheerful and instructive +French lesson. + +"What were you talking about when you came in?" asked Clowes. "Who's +been slanging Ireland, O'Hara?" + +"The man Briggs." + +"What are you going to do about it? Aren't you going to take any +steps?" + +"Is it steps?" said O'Hara, warmly, "and haven't we----" + +He stopped. + +"Well?" + +"Ye know," he said, seriously, "ye mustn't let it go any further. I +shall get sacked if it's found out. An' so will Moriarty, too." + +"Why?" asked Trevor, looking up from the tea-pot he was filling, "what +on earth have you been doing?" + +"Wouldn't it be rather a cheery idea," suggested Clowes, "if you began +at the beginning." + +"Well, ye see," O'Hara began, "it was this way. The first I heard of it +was from Dexter. He was trying to score off me as usual, an' he said, +'Have ye seen the paper this morning, O'Hara?' I said, no, I had not. +Then he said, 'Ah,' he said, 'ye should look at it. There's something +there that ye'll find interesting.' I said, 'Yes, sir?' in me +respectful way. 'Yes,' said he, 'the Irish members have been making +their customary disturbances in the House. Why is it, O'Hara,' he said, +'that Irishmen are always thrusting themselves forward and making +disturbances for purposes of self-advertisement?' 'Why, indeed, sir?' +said I, not knowing what else to say, and after that the conversation +ceased." + +"Go on," said Clowes. + +"After breakfast Moriarty came to me with a paper, and showed me what +they had been saying about the Irish. There was a letter from the man +Briggs on the subject. 'A very sensible and temperate letter from Sir +Eustace Briggs', they called it, but bedad! if that was a temperate +letter, I should like to know what an intemperate one is. Well, we read +it through, and Moriarty said to me, 'Can we let this stay as it is?' +And I said, 'No. We can't.' 'Well,' said Moriarty to me, 'what are we +to do about it? I should like to tar and feather the man,' he said. 'We +can't do that,' I said, 'but why not tar and feather his statue?' I +said. So we thought we would. Ye know where the statue is, I suppose? +It's in the recreation ground just across the river." + +"I know the place," said Clowes. "Go on. This is ripping. I always knew +you were pretty mad, but this sounds as if it were going to beat all +previous records." + +"Have ye seen the baths this term," continued O'Hara, "since they +shifted Dexter's house into them? The beds are in two long rows along +each wall. Moriarty's and mine are the last two at the end farthest +from the door." + +"Just under the gallery," said Trevor. "I see." + +"That's it. Well, at half-past ten sharp every night Dexter sees that +we're all in, locks the door, and goes off to sleep at the Old Man's, +and we don't see him again till breakfast. He turns the gas off from +outside. At half-past seven the next morning, Smith"--Smith was one of +the school porters--"unlocks the door and calls us, and we go over to +the Hall to breakfast." + +"Well?" + +"Well, directly everybody was asleep last night--it wasn't till after +one, as there was a rag on--Moriarty and I got up, dressed, and climbed +up into the gallery. Ye know the gallery windows? They open at the top, +an' it's rather hard to get out of them. But we managed it, and dropped +on to the gravel outside." + +"Long drop," said Clowes. + +"Yes. I hurt myself rather. But it was in a good cause. I dropped +first, and while I was on the ground, Moriarty came on top of me. +That's how I got hurt. But it wasn't much, and we cut across the +grounds, and over the fence, and down to the river. It was a fine +night, and not very dark, and everything smelt ripping down by the +river." + +"Don't get poetical," said Clowes. "Stick to the point." + +"We got into the boat-house--" + +"How?" asked the practical Trevor, for the boat-house was wont to be +locked at one in the morning. "Moriarty had a key that fitted," +explained O'Hara, briefly. "We got in, and launched a boat--a big +tub--put in the tar and a couple of brushes--there's always tar in +the boat-house--and rowed across." + +"Wait a bit," interrupted Trevor, "you said tar and feathers. Where did +you get the feathers?" + +"We used leaves. They do just as well, and there were heaps on the +bank. Well, when we landed, we tied up the boat, and bucked across to +the Recreation Ground. We got over the railings--beastly, spiky +railings--and went over to the statue. Ye know where the statue stands? +It's right in the middle of the place, where everybody can see it. +Moriarty got up first, and I handed him the tar and a brush. Then I +went up with the other brush, and we began. We did his face first. It +was too dark to see really well, but I think we made a good job of it. +When we had put about as much tar on as we thought would do, we took +out the leaves--which we were carrying in our pockets--and spread them +on. Then we did the rest of him, and after about half an hour, when we +thought we'd done about enough, we got into our boat again, and came +back." + +"And what did you do till half-past seven?" + +"We couldn't get back the way we'd come, so we slept in the boat-house." + +"Well--I'm--hanged," was Trevor's comment on the story. + +Clowes roared with laughter. O'Hara was a perpetual joy to him. + +As O'Hara was going, Trevor asked him for his gold bat. + +"You haven't lost it, I hope?" he said. + +O'Hara felt in his pocket, but brought his hand out at once and +transferred it to another pocket. A look of anxiety came over his face, +and was reflected in Trevor's. + +"I could have sworn it was in that pocket," he said. + +"You _haven't_ lost it?" queried Trevor again. + +"He has," said Clowes, confidently. "If you want to know where that bat +is, I should say you'd find it somewhere between the baths and the +statue. At the foot of the statue, for choice. It seems to me--correct +me if I am wrong--that you have been and gone and done it, me broth av +a bhoy." + +O'Hara gave up the search. + +"It's gone," he said. "Man, I'm most awfully sorry. I'd sooner have +lost a ten-pound note." + +"I don't see why you should lose either," snapped Trevor. "Why the +blazes can't you be more careful." + +O'Hara was too penitent for words. Clowes took it on himself to point +out the bright side. + +"There's nothing to get sick about, really," he said. "If the thing +doesn't turn up, though it probably will, you'll simply have to tell +the Old Man that it's lost. He'll have another made. You won't be asked +for it till just before Sports Day either, so you will have plenty of +time to find it." + +The challenge cups, and also the bats, had to be given to the +authorities before the sports, to be formally presented on Sports Day. + +"Oh, I suppose it'll be all right," said Trevor, "but I hope it won't +be found anywhere near the statue." + +O'Hara said he hoped so too. + + + + +IV + +THE LEAGUE'S WARNING + + +The team to play in any match was always put upon the notice-board at +the foot of the stairs in the senior block a day before the date of the +fixture. Both first and second fifteens had matches on the Thursday of +this week. The second were playing a team brought down by an old +Wrykinian. The first had a scratch game. + +When Barry, accompanied by M'Todd, who shared his study at Seymour's +and rarely left him for two minutes on end, passed by the notice-board +at the quarter to eleven interval, it was to the second fifteen list +that he turned his attention. Now that Bryce had left, he thought he +might have a chance of getting into the second. His only real rival, he +considered, was Crawford, of the School House, who was the other wing +three-quarter of the third fifteen. The first name he saw on the list +was Crawford's. It seemed to be written twice as large as any of the +others, and his own was nowhere to be seen. The fact that he had half +expected the calamity made things no better. He had set his heart on +playing for the second this term. + +Then suddenly he noticed a remarkable phenomenon. The other wing +three-quarter was Rand-Brown. If Rand-Brown was playing for the second, +who was playing for the first? + +He looked at the list. + +"_Come_ on," he said hastily to M'Todd. He wanted to get away +somewhere where his agitated condition would not be noticed. He felt +quite faint at the shock of seeing his name on the list of the first +fifteen. There it was, however, as large as life. "M. Barry." Separated +from the rest by a thin red line, but still there. In his most +optimistic moments he had never dreamed of this. M'Todd was reading +slowly through the list of the second. He did everything slowly, except +eating. + +"Come on," said Barry again. + +M'Todd had, after much deliberation, arrived at a profound truth. He +turned to Barry, and imparted his discovery to him in the weighty +manner of one who realises the importance of his words. + +"Look here," he said, "your name's not down here." + +"I know. _Come_ on." + +"But that means you're not playing for the second." + +"Of course it does. Well, if you aren't coming, I'm off." + +"But, look here----" + +Barry disappeared through the door. After a moment's pause, M'Todd +followed him. He came up with him on the senior gravel. + +"What's up?" he inquired. + +"Nothing," said Barry. + +"Are you sick about not playing for the second?" + +"No." + +"You are, really. Come and have a bun." + +In the philosophy of M'Todd it was indeed a deep-rooted sorrow that +could not be cured by the internal application of a new, hot bun. It +had never failed in his own case. + +"Bun!" Barry was quite shocked at the suggestion. "I can't afford to +get myself out of condition with beastly buns." + +"But if you aren't playing----" + +"You ass. I'm playing for the first. Now, do you see?" + +M'Todd gaped. His mind never worked very rapidly. "What about +Rand-Brown, then?" he said. + +"Rand-Brown's been chucked out. Can't you understand? You _are_ an +idiot. Rand-Brown's playing for the second, and I'm playing for the +first." + +"But you're----" + +He stopped. He had been going to point out that Barry's tender years--he +was only sixteen--and smallness would make it impossible for him to play +with success for the first fifteen. He refrained owing to a conviction +that the remark would not be wholly judicious. Barry was touchy on the +subject of his size, and M'Todd had suffered before now for commenting +on it in a disparaging spirit. + +"I tell you what we'll do after school," said Barry, "we'll have some +running and passing. It'll do you a lot of good, and I want to practise +taking passes at full speed. You can trot along at your ordinary pace, +and I'll sprint up from behind." + +M'Todd saw no objection to that. Trotting along at his ordinary +pace--five miles an hour--would just suit him. + +"Then after that," continued Barry, with a look of enthusiasm, "I want +to practise passing back to my centre. Paget used to do it awfully well +last term, and I know Trevor expects his wing to. So I'll buck along, +and you race up to take my pass. See?" + +This was not in M'Todd's line at all. He proposed a slight alteration +in the scheme. + +"Hadn't you better get somebody else--?" he began. + +"Don't be a slack beast," said Barry. "You want exercise awfully +badly." + +And, as M'Todd always did exactly as Barry wished, he gave in, and +spent from four-thirty to five that afternoon in the prescribed manner. +A suggestion on his part at five sharp that it wouldn't be a bad idea +to go and have some tea was not favourably received by the enthusiastic +three-quarter, who proposed to devote what time remained before lock-up +to practising drop-kicking. It was a painful alternative that faced +M'Todd. His allegiance to Barry demanded that he should consent to the +scheme. On the other hand, his allegiance to afternoon tea--equally +strong--called him back to the house, where there was cake, and also +muffins. In the end the question was solved by the appearance of +Drummond, of Seymour's, garbed in football things, and also anxious to +practise drop-kicking. So M'Todd was dismissed to his tea with +opprobrious epithets, and Barry and Drummond settled down to a little +serious and scientific work. + +Making allowances for the inevitable attack of nerves that attends a +first appearance in higher football circles than one is accustomed to, +Barry did well against the scratch team--certainly far better than +Rand-Brown had done. His smallness was, of course, against him, and, on +the only occasion on which he really got away, Paget overtook him and +brought him down. But then Paget was exceptionally fast. In the two +most important branches of the game, the taking of passes and tackling, +Barry did well. As far as pluck went he had enough for two, and when +the whistle blew for no-side he had not let Paget through once, and +Trevor felt that his inclusion in the team had been justified. There +was another scratch game on the Saturday. Barry played in it, and did +much better. Paget had gone away by an early train, and the man he had +to mark now was one of the masters, who had been good in his time, but +was getting a trifle old for football. Barry scored twice, and on one +occasion, by passing back to Trevor after the manner of Paget, enabled +the captain to run in. And Trevor, like the captain in _Billy +Taylor_, "werry much approved of what he'd done." Barry began to be +regarded in the school as a regular member of the fifteen. The first of +the fixture-card matches, versus the Town, was due on the following +Saturday, and it was generally expected that he would play. M'Todd's +devotion increased every day. He even went to the length of taking long +runs with him. And if there was one thing in the world that M'Todd +loathed, it was a long run. + +On the Thursday before the match against the Town, Clowes came +chuckling to Trevor's study after preparation, and asked him if he had +heard the latest. + +"Have you ever heard of the League?" he said. + +Trevor pondered. + +"I don't think so," he replied. + +"How long have you been at the school?" + +"Let's see. It'll be five years at the end of the summer term." + +"Ah, then you wouldn't remember. I've been here a couple of terms +longer than you, and the row about the League was in my first term." + +"What was the row?" + +"Oh, only some chaps formed a sort of secret society in the place. Kind +of Vehmgericht, you know. If they got their knife into any one, he +usually got beans, and could never find out where they came from. At +first, as a matter of fact, the thing was quite a philanthropical +concern. There used to be a good deal of bullying in the place then--at +least, in some of the houses--and, as the prefects couldn't or wouldn't +stop it, some fellows started this League." + +"Did it work?" + +"Work! By Jove, I should think it did. Chaps who previously couldn't +get through the day without making some wretched kid's life not worth +living used to go about as nervous as cats, looking over their +shoulders every other second. There was one man in particular, a chap +called Leigh. He was hauled out of bed one night, blindfolded, and +ducked in a cold bath. He was in the School House." + +"Why did the League bust up?" + +"Well, partly because the fellows left, but chiefly because they didn't +stick to the philanthropist idea. If anybody did anything they didn't +like, they used to go for him. At last they put their foot into it +badly. A chap called Robinson--in this house by the way--offended them +in some way, and one morning he was found tied up in the bath, up to +his neck in cold water. Apparently he'd been there about an hour. He +got pneumonia, and almost died, and then the authorities began to get +going. Robinson thought he had recognised the voice of one of the +chaps--I forget his name. The chap was had up by the Old Man, and gave +the show away entirely. About a dozen fellows were sacked, clean off +the reel. Since then the thing has been dropped." + +"But what about it? What were you going to say when you came in?" + +"Why, it's been revived!" + +"Rot!" + +"It's a fact. Do you know Mill, a prefect, in Seymour's?" + +"Only by sight." + +"I met him just now. He's in a raving condition. His study's been +wrecked. You never saw such a sight. Everything upside down or smashed. +He has been showing me the ruins." + +"I believe Mill is awfully barred in Seymour's," said Trevor. "Anybody +might have ragged his study." + +"That's just what I thought. He's just the sort of man the League used +to go for." + +"That doesn't prove that it's been revived, all the same," objected +Trevor. + +"No, friend; but this does. Mill found it tied to a chair." + +It was a small card. It looked like an ordinary visiting card. On it, +in neat print, were the words, "_With the compliments of the +League_". + +"That's exactly the same sort of card as they used to use," said +Clowes. "I've seen some of them. What do you think of that?" + +"I think whoever has started the thing is a pretty average-sized idiot. +He's bound to get caught some time or other, and then out he goes. The +Old Man wouldn't think twice about sacking a chap of that sort." + +"A chap of that sort," said Clowes, "will take jolly good care he isn't +caught. But it's rather sport, isn't it?" + +And he went off to his study. + +Next day there was further evidence that the League was an actual going +concern. When Trevor came down to breakfast, he found a letter by his +plate. It was printed, as the card had been. It was signed "The +President of the League." And the purport of it was that the League did +not wish Barry to continue to play for the first fifteen. + + + + +V + +MILL RECEIVES VISITORS + + +Trevor's first idea was that somebody had sent the letter for a +joke,--Clowes for choice. + +He sounded him on the subject after breakfast. + +"Did you send me that letter?" he inquired, when Clowes came into his +study to borrow a _Sportsman_. + +"What letter? Did you send the team for tomorrow up to the sporter? I +wonder what sort of a lot the Town are bringing." + +"About not giving Barry his footer colours?" + +Clowes was reading the paper. + +"Giving whom?" he asked. + +"Barry. Can't you listen?" + +"Giving him what?" + +"Footer colours." + +"What about them?" + +Trevor sprang at the paper, and tore it away from him. After which he +sat on the fragments. + +"Did you send me a letter about not giving Barry his footer colours?" + +Clowes surveyed him with the air of a nurse to whom the family baby has +just said some more than usually good thing. + +"Don't stop," he said, "I could listen all day." + +Trevor felt in his pocket for the note, and flung it at him. Clowes +picked it up, and read it gravely. + +"What _are_ footer colours?" he asked. + +"Well," said Trevor, "it's a pretty rotten sort of joke, whoever sent +it. You haven't said yet whether you did or not." + +"What earthly reason should I have for sending it? And I think you're +making a mistake if you think this is meant as a joke." + +"You don't really believe this League rot?" + +"You didn't see Mill's study 'after treatment'. I did. Anyhow, how do +you account for the card I showed you?" + +"But that sort of thing doesn't happen at school." + +"Well, it _has_ happened, you see." + +"Who do you think did send the letter, then?" + +"The President of the League." + +"And who the dickens is the President of the League when he's at home?" + +"If I knew that, I should tell Mill, and earn his blessing. Not that I +want it." + +"Then, I suppose," snorted Trevor, "you'd suggest that on the strength +of this letter I'd better leave Barry out of the team?" + +"Satirically in brackets," commented Clowes. + +"It's no good your jumping on _me_," he added. "I've done nothing. +All I suggest is that you'd better keep more or less of a look-out. If +this League's anything like the old one, you'll find they've all sorts +of ways of getting at people they don't love. I shouldn't like to come +down for a bath some morning, and find you already in possession, tied +up like Robinson. When they found Robinson, he was quite blue both as +to the face and speech. He didn't speak very clearly, but what one +could catch was well worth hearing. I should advise you to sleep with a +loaded revolver under your pillow." + +"The first thing I shall do is find out who wrote this letter." + +"I should," said Clowes, encouragingly. "Keep moving." + +In Seymour's house the Mill's study incident formed the only theme of +conversation that morning. Previously the sudden elevation to the first +fifteen of Barry, who was popular in the house, at the expense of +Rand-Brown, who was unpopular, had given Seymour's something to talk +about. But the ragging of the study put this topic entirely in the shade. +The study was still on view in almost its original condition of disorder, +and all day comparative strangers flocked to see Mill in his den, in +order to inspect things. Mill was a youth with few friends, and it is +probable that more of his fellow-Seymourites crossed the threshold of +his study on the day after the occurrence than had visited him in the +entire course of his school career. Brown would come in to borrow a +knife, would sweep the room with one comprehensive glance, and depart, +to be followed at brief intervals by Smith, Robinson, and Jones, who +came respectively to learn the right time, to borrow a book, and to ask +him if he had seen a pencil anywhere. Towards the end of the day, Mill +would seem to have wearied somewhat of the proceedings, as was proved +when Master Thomas Renford, aged fourteen (who fagged for Milton, the +head of the house), burst in on the thin pretence that he had mistaken +the study for that of his rightful master, and gave vent to a prolonged +whistle of surprise and satisfaction at the sight of the ruins. On +that occasion, the incensed owner of the dismantled study, taking a +mean advantage of the fact that he was a prefect, and so entitled to +wield the rod, produced a handy swagger-stick from an adjacent corner, +and, inviting Master Renford to bend over, gave him six of the best to +remember him by. Which ceremony being concluded, he kicked him out into +the passage, and Renford went down to the junior day-room to tell his +friend Harvey about it. + +"Gave me six, the cad," said he, "just because I had a look at his +beastly study. Why shouldn't I look at his study if I like? I've a +jolly good mind to go up and have another squint." + +Harvey warmly approved the scheme. + +"No, I don't think I will," said Renford with a yawn. "It's such a fag +going upstairs." + +"Yes, isn't it?" said Harvey. + +"And he's such a beast, too." + +"Yes, isn't he?" said Harvey. + +"I'm jolly glad his study _has_ been ragged," continued the +vindictive Renford. + +"It's jolly exciting, isn't it?" added Harvey. "And I thought this term +was going to be slow. The Easter term generally is." + +This remark seemed to suggest a train of thought to Renford, who made +the following cryptic observation. "Have you seen them today?" + +To the ordinary person the words would have conveyed little meaning. To +Harvey they appeared to teem with import. + +"Yes," he said, "I saw them early this morning." + +"Were they all right?" + +"Yes. Splendid." + +"Good," said Renford. + +Barry's friend Drummond was one of those who had visited the scene of +the disaster early, before Mill's energetic hand had repaired the +damage done, and his narrative was consequently in some demand. + +"The place was in a frightful muck," he said. "Everything smashed +except the table; and ink all over the place. Whoever did it must have +been fairly sick with him, or he'd never have taken the trouble to do +it so thoroughly. Made a fair old hash of things, didn't he, Bertie?" + +"Bertie" was the form in which the school elected to serve up the name +of De Bertini. Raoul de Bertini was a French boy who had come to Wrykyn +in the previous term. Drummond's father had met his father in Paris, +and Drummond was supposed to be looking after Bertie. They shared a +study together. Bertie could not speak much English, and what he did +speak was, like Mill's furniture, badly broken. + +"Pardon?" he said. + +"Doesn't matter," said Drummond, "it wasn't anything important. I was +only appealing to you for corroborative detail to give artistic +verisimilitude to a bald and unconvincing narrative." + +Bertie grinned politely. He always grinned when he was not quite equal +to the intellectual pressure of the conversation. As a consequence of +which, he was generally, like Mrs Fezziwig, one vast, substantial +smile. + +"I never liked Mill much," said Barry, "but I think it's rather bad +luck on the man." + +"Once," announced M'Todd, solemnly, "he kicked me--for making a row in +the passage." It was plain that the recollection rankled. + +Barry would probably have pointed out what an excellent and +praiseworthy act on Mill's part that had been, when Rand-Brown came in. + +"Prefects' meeting?" he inquired. "Or haven't they made you a prefect +yet, M'Todd?" + +M'Todd said they had not. + +Nobody present liked Rand-Brown, and they looked at him rather +inquiringly, as if to ask what he had come for. A friend may drop in +for a chat. An acquaintance must justify his intrusion. + +Rand-Brown ignored the silent inquiry. He seated himself on the table, +and dragged up a chair to rest his legs on. + +"Talking about Mill, of course?" he said. + +"Yes," said Drummond. "Have you seen his study since it happened?" + +"Yes." + +Rand-Brown smiled, as if the recollection amused him. He was one of +those people who do not look their best when they smile. + +"Playing for the first tomorrow, Barry?" + +"I don't know," said Barry, shortly. "I haven't seen the list." + +He objected to the introduction of the topic. It is never pleasant to +have to discuss games with the very man one has ousted from the team. + +Drummond, too, seemed to feel that the situation was an embarrassing +one, for a few minutes later he got up to go over to the gymnasium. + +"Any of you chaps coming?" he asked. + +Barry and M'Todd thought they would, and the three left the room. + +"Nothing like showing a man you don't want him, eh, Bertie? What do you +think?" said Rand-Brown. + +Bertie grinned politely. + + + + +VI + +TREVOR REMAINS FIRM + + +The most immediate effect of telling anybody not to do a thing is to +make him do it, in order to assert his independence. Trevor's first act +on receipt of the letter was to include Barry in the team against the +Town. It was what he would have done in any case, but, under the +circumstances, he felt a peculiar pleasure in doing it. The incident +also had the effect of recalling to his mind the fact that he had tried +Barry in the first instance on his own responsibility, without +consulting the committee. The committee of the first fifteen consisted +of the two old colours who came immediately after the captain on the +list. The powers of a committee varied according to the determination +and truculence of the members of it. On any definite and important +step, affecting the welfare of the fifteen, the captain theoretically +could not move without their approval. But if the captain happened to +be strong-minded and the committee weak, they were apt to be slightly +out of it, and the captain would develop a habit of consulting them a +day or so after he had done a thing. He would give a man his colours, +and inform the committee of it on the following afternoon, when the +thing was done and could not be repealed. + +Trevor was accustomed to ask the advice of his lieutenants fairly +frequently. He never gave colours, for instance, off his own bat. It +seemed to him that it might be as well to learn what views Milton and +Allardyce had on the subject of Barry, and, after the Town team had +gone back across the river, defeated by a goal and a try to nil, he +changed and went over to Seymour's to interview Milton. + +Milton was in an arm-chair, watching Renford brew tea. His was one of +the few studies in the school in which there was an arm-chair. With the +majority of his contemporaries, it would only run to the portable kind +that fold up. + +"Come and have some tea, Trevor," said Milton. + +"Thanks. If there's any going." + +"Heaps. Is there anything to eat, Renford?" + +The fag, appealed to on this important point, pondered darkly for a +moment. + +"There _was_ some cake," he said. + +"That's all right," interrupted Milton, cheerfully. "Scratch the cake. +I ate it before the match. Isn't there anything else?" + +Milton had a healthy appetite. + +"Then there used to be some biscuits." + +"Biscuits are off. I finished 'em yesterday. Look here, young Renford, +what you'd better do is cut across to the shop and get some more cake +and some more biscuits, and tell 'em to put it down to me. And don't be +long." + +"A miles better idea would be to send him over to Donaldson's to fetch +something from my study," suggested Trevor. "It isn't nearly so far, +and I've got heaps of stuff." + +"Ripping. Cut over to Donaldson's, young Renford. As a matter of fact," +he added, confidentially, when the emissary had vanished, "I'm not half +sure that the other dodge would have worked. They seem to think at the +shop that I've had about enough things on tick lately. I haven't +settled up for last term yet. I've spent all I've got on this study. +What do you think of those photographs?" + + + +Trevor got up and inspected them. They filled the mantelpiece and most +of the wall above it. They were exclusively theatrical photographs, and +of a variety to suit all tastes. For the earnest student of the drama +there was Sir Henry Irving in _The Bells_, and Mr Martin Harvey in +_The Only Way._ For the admirers of the merely beautiful there +were Messrs Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell. + +"Not bad," said Trevor. "Beastly waste of money." + +"Waste of money!" Milton was surprised and pained at the criticism. +"Why, you must spend your money on _something."_ + +"Rot, I call it," said Trevor. "If you want to collect something, why +don't you collect something worth having?" + +Just then Renford came back with the supplies. + +"Thanks," said Milton, "put 'em down. Does the billy boil, young +Renford?" + +Renford asked for explanatory notes. + +"You're a bit of an ass at times, aren't you?" said Milton, kindly. +"What I meant was, is the tea ready? If it is, you can scoot. If it +isn't, buck up with it." + +A sound of bubbling and a rush of steam from the spout of the kettle +proclaimed that the billy did boil. Renford extinguished the Etna, and +left the room, while Milton, murmuring vague formulae about "one +spoonful for each person and one for the pot", got out of his chair +with a groan--for the Town match had been an energetic one--and began +to prepare tea. + +"What I really came round about--" began Trevor. + +"Half a second. I can't find the milk." + +He went to the door, and shouted for Renford. On that overworked +youth's appearance, the following dialogue took place. + +"Where's the milk?" + +"What milk?" + +"My milk." + +"There isn't any." This in a tone not untinged with triumph, as if the +speaker realised that here was a distinct score to him. + +"No milk?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"You never had any." + +"Well, just cut across--no, half a second. What are you doing +downstairs?" + +"Having tea." + +"Then you've got milk." + +"Only a little." This apprehensively. + +"Bring it up. You can have what we leave." + +Disgusted retirement of Master Renford. + +"What I really came about," said Trevor again, "was business." + +"Colours?" inquired Milton, rummaging in the tin for biscuits with +sugar on them. "Good brand of biscuit you keep, Trevor." + +"Yes. I think we might give Alexander and Parker their third." + +"All right. Any others?" + +"Barry his second, do you think?" + +"Rather. He played a good game today. He's an improvement on +Rand-Brown." + +"Glad you think so. I was wondering whether it was the right thing to +do, chucking Rand-Brown out after one trial like that. But still, if +you think Barry's better--" + +"Streets better. I've had heaps of chances of watching them and +comparing them, when they've been playing for the house. It isn't only +that Rand-Brown can't tackle, and Barry can. Barry takes his passes +much better, and doesn't lose his head when he's pressed." + +"Just what I thought," said Trevor. "Then you'd go on playing him for +the first?" + +"Rather. He'll get better every game, you'll see, as he gets more used +to playing in the first three-quarter line. And he's as keen as +anything on getting into the team. Practises taking passes and that +sort of thing every day." + +"Well, he'll get his colours if we lick Ripton." + +"We ought to lick them. They've lost one of their forwards, Clifford, a +red-haired chap, who was good out of touch. I don't know if you +remember him." + +"I suppose I ought to go and see Allardyce about these colours, now. +Good-bye." + +There was running and passing on the Monday for every one in the three +teams. Trevor and Clowes met Mr Seymour as they were returning. Mr +Seymour was the football master at Wrykyn. + +"I see you've given Barry his second, Trevor." + +"Yes, sir." + +"I think you're wise to play him for the first. He knows the game, +which is the great thing, and he will improve with practice," said Mr +Seymour, thus corroborating Milton's words of the previous Saturday. + +"I'm glad Seymour thinks Barry good," said Trevor, as they walked on. +"I shall go on playing him now." + +"Found out who wrote that letter yet?" + +Trevor laughed. + +"Not yet," he said. + +"Probably Rand-Brown," suggested Clowes. "He's the man who would gain +most by Barry's not playing. I hear he had a row with Mill just before +his study was ragged." + +"Everybody in Seymour's has had rows with Mill some time or other," +said Trevor. + +Clowes stopped at the door of the junior day-room to find his fag. +Trevor went on upstairs. In the passage he met Ruthven. + +Ruthven seemed excited. + +"I say. Trevor," he exclaimed, "have you seen your study?" + +"Why, what's the matter with it?" + +"You'd better go and look." + + + + +VII + +"WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE" + + +Trevor went and looked. + +It was rather an interesting sight. An earthquake or a cyclone might +have made it a little more picturesque, but not much more. The general +effect was not unlike that of an American saloon, after a visit from +Mrs Carrie Nation (with hatchet). As in the case of Mill's study, the +only thing that did not seem to have suffered any great damage was the +table. Everything else looked rather off colour. The mantelpiece had +been swept as bare as a bone, and its contents littered the floor. +Trevor dived among the debris and retrieved the latest addition to his +art gallery, the photograph of this year's first fifteen. It was a +wreck. The glass was broken and the photograph itself slashed with a +knife till most of the faces were unrecognisable. He picked up another +treasure, last year's first eleven. Smashed glass again. Faces cut +about with knife as before. His collection of snapshots was torn into a +thousand fragments, though, as Mr Jerome said of the papier-mache +trout, there may only have been nine hundred. He did not count +them. His bookshelf was empty. The books had gone to swell the +contents of the floor. There was a Shakespeare with its cover off. +Pages twenty-two to thirty-one of _Vice Versa_ had parted from the +parent establishment, and were lying by themselves near the door. _The +Rogues' March_ lay just beyond them, and the look of the cover +suggested that somebody had either been biting it or jumping on it with +heavy boots. + +There was other damage. Over the mantelpiece in happier days had hung a +dozen sea gulls' eggs, threaded on a string. The string was still +there, as good as new, but of the eggs nothing was to be seen, save a +fine parti-coloured powder--on the floor, like everything else in the +study. And a good deal of ink had been upset in one place and another. + +Trevor had been staring at the ruins for some time, when he looked up +to see Clowes standing in the doorway. + +"Hullo," said Clowes, "been tidying up?" + +Trevor made a few hasty comments on the situation. Clowes listened +approvingly. + +"Don't you think," he went on, eyeing the study with a critical air, +"that you've got too many things on the floor, and too few anywhere +else? And I should move some of those books on to the shelf, if I were +you." + +Trevor breathed very hard. + +"I should like to find the chap who did this," he said softly. + +Clowes advanced into the room and proceeded to pick up various +misplaced articles of furniture in a helpful way. + +"I thought so," he said presently, "come and look here." + +Tied to a chair, exactly as it had been in the case of Mill, was a neat +white card, and on it were the words, _"With the Compliments of the +League"._ + +"What are you going to do about this?" asked Clowes. "Come into my room +and talk it over." + +"I'll tidy this place up first," said Trevor. He felt that the work +would be a relief. "I don't want people to see this. It mustn't get +about. I'm not going to have my study turned into a sort of side-show, +like Mill's. You go and change. I shan't be long." + +"I will never desert Mr Micawber," said Clowes. "Friend, my place is by +your side. Shut the door and let's get to work." + +Ten minutes later the room had resumed a more or less--though +principally less--normal appearance. The books and chairs were back in +their places. The ink was sopped up. The broken photographs were +stacked in a neat pile in one corner, with a rug over them. The +mantelpiece was still empty, but, as Clowes pointed out, it now merely +looked as if Trevor had been pawning some of his household gods. There +was no sign that a devastating secret society had raged through the +study. + +Then they adjourned to Clowes' study, where Trevor sank into Clowes' +second-best chair--Clowes, by an adroit movement, having appropriated +the best one--with a sigh of enjoyment. Running and passing, followed +by the toil of furniture-shifting, had made him feel quite tired. + +"It doesn't look so bad now," he said, thinking of the room they had +left. "By the way, what did you do with that card?" + +"Here it is. Want it?" + +"You can keep it. I don't want it." + +"Thanks. If this sort of things goes on, I shall get quite a nice +collection of these cards. Start an album some day." + +"You know," said Trevor, "this is getting serious." + +"It always does get serious when anything bad happens to one's self. It +always strikes one as rather funny when things happen to other people. +When Mill's study was wrecked, I bet you regarded it as an amusing and +original 'turn'. What do you think of the present effort?" + +"Who on earth can have done it?" + +"The Pres--" + +"Oh, dry up. Of course it was. But who the blazes is he?" + +"Nay, children, you have me there," quoted Clowes. "I'll tell you one +thing, though. You remember what I said about it's probably being +Rand-Brown. He can't have done this, that's certain, because he was +out in the fields the whole time. Though I don't see who else could +have anything to gain by Barry not getting his colours." + +"There's no reason to suspect him at all, as far as I can see. I don't +know much about him, bar the fact that he can't play footer for nuts, +but I've never heard anything against him. Have you?" + +"I scarcely know him myself. He isn't liked in Seymour's, I believe." + +"Well, anyhow, this can't be his work." + +"That's what I said." + +"For all we know, the League may have got their knife into Barry for +some reason. You said they used to get their knife into fellows in that +way. Anyhow, I mean to find out who ragged my room." + +"It wouldn't be a bad idea," said Clowes. + + * * * * * + +O'Hara came round to Donaldson's before morning school next day to tell +Trevor that he had not yet succeeded in finding the lost bat. He found +Trevor and Clowes in the former's den, trying to put a few finishing +touches to the same. + +"Hullo, an' what's up with your study?" he inquired. He was quick at +noticing things. Trevor looked annoyed. Clowes asked the visitor if he +did not think the study presented a neat and gentlemanly appearance. + +"Where are all your photographs, Trevor?" persisted the descendant of +Irish kings. + +"It's no good trying to conceal anything from the bhoy," said Clowes. +"Sit down, O'Hara--mind that chair; it's rather wobbly--and I will tell +ye the story." + +"Can you keep a thing dark?" inquired Trevor. + +O'Hara protested that tombs were not in it. + +"Well, then, do you remember what happened to Mill's study? That's +what's been going on here." + +O'Hara nearly fell off his chair with surprise. That some +philanthropist should rag Mill's study was only to be expected. Mill +was one of the worst. A worm without a saving grace. But Trevor! +Captain of football! In the first eleven! The thing was unthinkable. + +"But who--?" he began. + +"That's just what I want to know," said Trevor, shortly. He did not +enjoy discussing the affair. + +"How long have you been at Wrykyn, O'Hara?" said Clowes. + +O'Hara made a rapid calculation. His fingers twiddled in the air as he +worked out the problem. + +"Six years," he said at last, leaning back exhausted with brain work. + +"Then you must remember the League?" + +"Remember the League? Rather." + +"Well, it's been revived." + +O'Hara whistled. + +"This'll liven the old place up," he said. "I've often thought of +reviving it meself. An' so has Moriarty. If it's anything like the Old +League, there's going to be a sort of Donnybrook before it's done with. +I wonder who's running it this time." + +"We should like to know that. If you find out, you might tell us." + +"I will." + +"And don't tell anybody else," said Trevor. "This business has got to +be kept quiet. Keep it dark about my study having been ragged." + +"I won't tell a soul." + +"Not even Moriarty." + +"Oh, hang it, man," put in Clowes, "you don't want to kill the poor +bhoy, surely? You must let him tell one person." + +"All right," said Trevor, "you can tell Moriarty. But nobody else, +mind." + +O'Hara promised that Moriarty should receive the news exclusively. + +"But why did the League go for ye?" + +"They happen to be down on me. It doesn't matter why. They are." + +"I see," said O'Hara. "Oh," he added, "about that bat. The search is +being 'vigorously prosecuted'--that's a newspaper quotation--" + +"Times?" inquired Clowes. + +"_Wrykyn Patriot_," said O'Hara, pulling out a bundle of letters. +He inspected each envelope in turn, and from the fifth extracted a +newspaper cutting. + +"Read that," he said. + +It was from the local paper, and ran as follows:-- + +"_Hooligan Outrage_--A painful sensation has been caused in the +town by a deplorable ebullition of local Hooliganism, which has +resulted in the wanton disfigurement of the splendid statue of Sir +Eustace Briggs which stands in the New Recreation Grounds. Our readers +will recollect that the statue was erected to commemorate the return of +Sir Eustace as member for the borough of Wrykyn, by an overwhelming +majority, at the last election. Last Tuesday some youths of the town, +passing through the Recreation Grounds early in the morning, noticed +that the face and body of the statue were completely covered with +leaves and some black substance, which on examination proved to be tar. +They speedily lodged information at the police station. Everything +seems to point to party spite as the motive for the outrage. In view of +the forth-coming election, such an act is highly significant, and will +serve sufficiently to indicate the tactics employed by our opponents. +The search for the perpetrator (or perpetrators) of the dastardly act +is being vigorously prosecuted, and we learn with satisfaction that the +police have already several clues." + +"Clues!" said Clowes, handing back the paper, "that means _the +bat_. That gas about 'our opponents' is all a blind to put you off +your guard. You wait. There'll be more painful sensations before you've +finished with this business." + +"They can't have found the bat, or why did they not say so?" observed +O'Hara. + +"Guile," said Clowes, "pure guile. If I were you, I should escape while +I could. Try Callao. There's no extradition there. + + 'On no petition + Is extradition + Allowed in Callao.' + +Either of you chaps coming over to school?" + + + + +VIII + +O'HARA ON THE TRACK + + +Tuesday mornings at Wrykyn were devoted--up to the quarter to eleven +interval--to the study of mathematics. That is to say, instead of going +to their form-rooms, the various forms visited the out-of-the-way nooks +and dens at the top of the buildings where the mathematical masters +were wont to lurk, and spent a pleasant two hours there playing round +games or reading fiction under the desk. Mathematics being one of the +few branches of school learning which are of any use in after life, +nobody ever dreamed of doing any work in that direction, least of all +O'Hara. It was a theory of O'Hara's that he came to school to enjoy +himself. To have done any work during a mathematics lesson would have +struck him as a positive waste of time, especially as he was in Mr +Banks' class. Mr Banks was a master who simply cried out to be ragged. +Everything he did and said seemed to invite the members of his class to +amuse themselves, and they amused themselves accordingly. One of the +advantages of being under him was that it was possible to predict to a +nicety the moment when one would be sent out of the room. This was +found very convenient. + +O'Hara's ally, Moriarty, was accustomed to take his mathematics with Mr +Morgan, whose room was directly opposite Mr Banks'. With Mr Morgan it +was not quite so easy to date one's expulsion from the room under +ordinary circumstances, and in the normal wear and tear of the +morning's work, but there was one particular action which could always +be relied upon to produce the desired result. + +In one corner of the room stood a gigantic globe. The problem--how did +it get into the room?--was one that had exercised the minds of many +generations of Wrykinians. It was much too big to have come through the +door. Some thought that the block had been built round it, others that +it had been placed in the room in infancy, and had since grown. To +refer the question to Mr Morgan would, in six cases out of ten, mean +instant departure from the room. But to make the event certain, it was +necessary to grasp the globe firmly and spin it round on its axis. That +always proved successful. Mr Morgan would dash down from his dais, +address the offender in spirited terms, and give him his marching +orders at once and without further trouble. + +Moriarty had arranged with O'Hara to set the globe rolling at ten sharp +on this particular morning. O'Hara would then so arrange matters with +Mr Banks that they could meet in the passage at that hour, when O'Hara +wished to impart to his friend his information concerning the League. + +O'Hara promised to be at the trysting-place at the hour mentioned. + +He did not think there would be any difficulty about it. The news that +the League had been revived meant that there would be trouble in the +very near future, and the prospect of trouble was meat and drink to the +Irishman in O'Hara. Consequently he felt in particularly good form for +mathematics (as he interpreted the word). He thought that he would have +no difficulty whatever in keeping Mr Banks bright and amused. The first +step had to be to arouse in him an interest in life, to bring him into +a frame of mind which would induce him to look severely rather than +leniently on the next offender. This was effected as follows:-- + +It was Mr Banks' practice to set his class sums to work out, and, after +some three-quarters of an hour had elapsed, to pass round the form what +he called "solutions". These were large sheets of paper, on which he +had worked out each sum in his neat handwriting to a happy ending. When +the head of the form, to whom they were passed first, had finished with +them, he would make a slight tear in one corner, and, having done so, +hand them on to his neighbour. The neighbour, before giving them to +_his_ neighbour, would also tear them slightly. In time they would +return to their patentee and proprietor, and it was then that things +became exciting. + +"Who tore these solutions like this?" asked Mr Banks, in the repressed +voice of one who is determined that he _will_ be calm. + +No answer. The tattered solutions waved in the air. + +He turned to Harringay, the head of the form. + +"Harringay, did you tear these solutions like this?" + +Indignant negative from Harringay. What he had done had been to make +the small tear in the top left-hand corner. If Mr Banks had asked, "Did +you make this small tear in the top left-hand corner of these +solutions?" Harringay would have scorned to deny the impeachment. But +to claim the credit for the whole work would, he felt, be an act of +flat dishonesty, and an injustice to his gifted _collaborateurs._ + +"No, sir," said Harringay. + +"Browne!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"Did you tear these solutions in this manner?" + +"No, sir." + +And so on through the form. + +Then Harringay rose after the manner of the debater who is conscious +that he is going to say the popular thing. + +"Sir--" he began. + +"Sit down, Harringay." + +Harringay gracefully waved aside the absurd command. + +"Sir," he said, "I think I am expressing the general consensus of +opinion among my--ahem--fellow-students, when I say that this class +sincerely regrets the unfortunate state the solutions have managed to +get themselves into." + +"Hear, hear!" from a back bench. + +"It is with--" + +"Sit _down_, Harringay." + +"It is with heartfelt--" + +"Harringay, if you do not sit down--" + +"As your ludship pleases." This _sotto voce_. + +And Harringay resumed his seat amidst applause. O'Hara got up. + +"As me frind who has just sat down was about to observe--" + +"Sit down, O'Hara. The whole form will remain after the class." + +"--the unfortunate state the solutions have managed to get thimsilves +into is sincerely regretted by this class. Sir, I think I am ixprissing +the general consensus of opinion among my fellow-students whin I say +that it is with heart-felt sorrow--" + +"O'Hara!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"Leave the room instantly." + +"Yes, sir." + +From the tower across the gravel came the melodious sound of chimes. +The college clock was beginning to strike ten. He had scarcely got into +the passage, and closed the door after him, when a roar as of a +bereaved spirit rang through the room opposite, followed by a string of +words, the only intelligible one being the noun-substantive "globe", +and the next moment the door opened and Moriarty came out. The last +stroke of ten was just booming from the clock. + +There was a large cupboard in the passage, the top of which made a very +comfortable seat. They climbed on to this, and began to talk business. + +"An' what was it ye wanted to tell me?" inquired Moriarty. + +O'Hara related what he had learned from Trevor that morning. + +"An' do ye know," said Moriarty, when he had finished, "I half +suspected, when I heard that Mill's study had been ragged, that it +might be the League that had done it. If ye remember, it was what they +enjoyed doing, breaking up a man's happy home. They did it frequently." + +"But I can't understand them doing it to Trevor at all." + +"They'll do it to anybody they choose till they're caught at it." + +"If they are caught, there'll be a row." + +"We must catch 'em," said Moriarty. Like O'Hara, he revelled in the +prospect of a disturbance. O'Hara and he were going up to Aldershot at +the end of the term, to try and bring back the light and middle-weight +medals respectively. Moriarty had won the light-weight in the previous +year, but, by reason of putting on a stone since the competition, was +now no longer eligible for that class. O'Hara had not been up before, +but the Wrykyn instructor, a good judge of pugilistic form, was of +opinion that he ought to stand an excellent chance. As the prize-fighter +in _Rodney Stone_ says, "When you get a good Irishman, you can't +better 'em, but they're dreadful 'asty." O'Hara was attending the +gymnasium every night, in order to learn to curb his "dreadful +'astiness", and acquire skill in its place. + +"I wonder if Trevor would be any good in a row," said Moriarty. + +"He can't box," said O'Hara, "but he'd go on till he was killed +entirely. I say, I'm getting rather tired of sitting here, aren't you? +Let's go to the other end of the passage and have some cricket." + +So, having unearthed a piece of wood from the debris at the top of the +cupboard, and rolled a handkerchief into a ball, they adjourned. + +Recalling the stirring events of six years back, when the League had +first been started, O'Hara remembered that the members of that +enterprising society had been wont to hold meetings in a secluded spot, +where it was unlikely that they would be disturbed. It seemed to him +that the first thing he ought to do, if he wanted to make their nearer +acquaintance now, was to find their present rendezvous. They must have +one. They would never run the risk involved in holding mass-meetings in +one another's studies. On the last occasion, it had been an old quarry +away out on the downs. This had been proved by the not-to-be-shaken +testimony of three school-house fags, who had wandered out one +half-holiday with the unconcealed intention of finding the League's +place of meeting. Unfortunately for them, they _had_ found it. +They were going down the path that led to the quarry before-mentioned, +when they were unexpectedly seized, blindfolded, and carried off. An +impromptu court-martial was held--in whispers--and the three explorers +forthwith received the most spirited "touching-up" they had ever +experienced. Afterwards they were released, and returned to their house +with their zeal for detection quite quenched. The episode had created a +good deal of excitement in the school at the time. + +On three successive afternoons, O'Hara and Moriarty scoured the downs, +and on each occasion they drew blank. On the fourth day, just before +lock-up, O'Hara, who had been to tea with Gregson, of Day's, was +going over to the gymnasium to keep a pugilistic appointment with +Moriarty, when somebody ran swiftly past him in the direction of the +boarding-houses. It was almost dark, for the days were still short, +and he did not recognise the runner. But it puzzled him a little to +think where he had sprung from. O'Hara was walking quite close to the +wall of the College buildings, and the runner had passed between it and +him. And he had not heard his footsteps. Then he understood, and his +pulse quickened as he felt that he was on the track. Beneath the block +was a large sort of cellar-basement. It was used as a store-room for +chairs, and was never opened except when prize-day or some similar event +occurred, when the chairs were needed. It was supposed to be locked at +other times, but never was. The door was just by the spot where he was +standing. As he stood there, half-a-dozen other vague forms dashed past +him in a knot. One of them almost brushed against him. For a moment he +thought of stopping him, but decided not to. He could wait. + +On the following afternoon he slipped down into the basement soon after +school. It was as black as pitch in the cellar. He took up a position +near the door. + +It seemed hours before anything happened. He was, indeed, almost giving +up the thing as a bad job, when a ray of light cut through the +blackness in front of him, and somebody slipped through the door. The +next moment, a second form appeared dimly, and then the light was shut +off again. + +O'Hara could hear them groping their way past him. He waited no longer. +It is difficult to tell where sound comes from in the dark. He plunged +forward at a venture. His hand, swinging round in a semicircle, met +something which felt like a shoulder. He slipped his grasp down to the +arm, and clutched it with all the force at his disposal. + + + + +IX + +MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS + + +"Ow!" exclaimed the captive, with no uncertain voice. "Let go, you ass, +you're hurting." + +The voice was a treble voice. This surprised O'Hara. It looked very +much as if he had put up the wrong bird. From the dimensions of the arm +which he was holding, his prisoner seemed to be of tender years. + +"Let go, Harvey, you idiot. I shall kick." + +Before the threat could be put into execution, O'Hara, who had been +fumbling all this while in his pocket for a match, found one loose, and +struck a light. The features of the owner of the arm--he was still +holding it--were lit up for a moment. + +"Why, it's young Renford!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing down +here?" + +Renford, however, continued to pursue the topic of his arm, and the +effect that the vice-like grip of the Irishman had had upon it. + +"You've nearly broken it," he said, complainingly. + +"I'm sorry. I mistook you for somebody else. Who's that with you?" + +"It's me," said an ungrammatical voice. + +"Who's me?" + +"Harvey." + +At this point a soft yellow light lit up the more immediate +neighbourhood. Harvey had brought a bicycle lamp into action. + +"That's more like it," said Renford. "Look here, O'Hara, you won't +split, will you?" + +"I'm not an informer by profession, thanks," said O'Hara. + +"Oh, I know it's all right, really, but you can't be too careful, +because one isn't allowed down here, and there'd be a beastly row if it +got out about our being down here." + +"And _they_ would be cobbed," put in Harvey. + +"Who are they?" asked O'Hara. + +"Ferrets. Like to have a look at them?" + +"_Ferrets!_" + +"Yes. Harvey brought back a couple at the beginning of term. Ripping +little beasts. We couldn't keep them in the house, as they'd have got +dropped on in a second, so we had to think of somewhere else, and +thought why not keep them down here?" + +"Why, indeed?" said O'Hara. "Do ye find they like it?" + +"Oh, _they_ don't mind," said Harvey. "We feed 'em twice a day. +Once before breakfast--we take it in turns to get up early--and once +directly after school. And on half-holidays and Sundays we take them +out on to the downs." + +"What for?" + +"Why, rabbits, of course. Renford brought back a saloon-pistol with +him. We keep it locked up in a box--don't tell any one." + +"And what do ye do with the rabbits?" + +"We pot at them as they come out of the holes." + +"Yes, but when ye hit 'em?" + +"Oh," said Renford, with some reluctance, "we haven't exactly hit any +yet." + +"We've got jolly near, though, lots of times," said Harvey. "Last +Saturday I swear I wasn't more than a quarter of an inch off one of +them. If it had been a decent-sized rabbit, I should have plugged it +middle stump; only it was a small one, so I missed. But come and see +them. We keep 'em right at the other end of the place, in case anybody +comes in." + +"Have you ever seen anybody down here?" asked O'Hara. + +"Once," said Renford. "Half-a-dozen chaps came down here once while we +were feeding the ferrets. We waited till they'd got well in, then we +nipped out quietly. They didn't see us." + +"Did you see who they were?" + +"No. It was too dark. Here they are. Rummy old crib this, isn't it? +Look out for your shins on the chairs. Switch on the light, Harvey. +There, aren't they rippers? Quite tame, too. They know us quite well. +They know they're going to be fed, too. Hullo, Sir Nigel! This is Sir +Nigel. Out of the 'White Company', you know. Don't let him nip your +fingers. This other one's Sherlock Holmes." + +"Cats-s-s--s!!" said O'Hara. He had a sort of idea that that was the +right thing to say to any animal that could chase and bite. + +Renford was delighted to be able to show his ferrets off to so +distinguished a visitor. + +"What were you down here about?" inquired Harvey, when the little +animals had had their meal, and had retired once more into private +life. + +O'Hara had expected this question, but he did not quite know what +answer to give. Perhaps, on the whole, he thought, it would be best to +tell them the real reason. If he refused to explain, their curiosity +would be roused, which would be fatal. And to give any reason except +the true one called for a display of impromptu invention of which he +was not capable. Besides, they would not be likely to give away his +secret while he held this one of theirs connected with the ferrets. He +explained the situation briefly, and swore them to silence on the +subject. + +Renford's comment was brief. + +"By Jove!" he observed. + +Harvey went more deeply into the question. + +"What makes you think they meet down here?" he asked. + +"I saw some fellows cutting out of here last night. And you say ye've +seen them here, too. I don't see what object they could have down here +if they weren't the League holding a meeting. I don't see what else a +chap would be after." + +"He might be keeping ferrets," hazarded Renford. + +"The whole school doesn't keep ferrets," said O'Hara. "You're unique in +that way. No, it must be the League, an' I mean to wait here till they +come." + +"Not all night?" asked Harvey. He had a great respect for O'Hara, whose +reputation in the school for out-of-the-way doings was considerable. In +the bright lexicon of O'Hara he believed there to be no such word as +"impossible." + +"No," said O'Hara, "but till lock-up. You two had better cut now." + +"Yes, I think we'd better," said Harvey. + +"And don't ye breathe a word about this to a soul"--a warning which +extracted fervent promises of silence from both youths. + +"This," said Harvey, as they emerged on to the gravel, "is something +like. I'm jolly glad we're in it." + + + +"Rather. Do you think O'Hara will catch them?" + +"He must if he waits down there long enough. They're certain to come +again. Don't you wish you'd been here when the League was on before?" + +"I should think I did. Race you over to the shop. I want to get +something before it shuts." + +"Right ho!" And they disappeared. + +O'Hara waited where he was till six struck from the clock-tower, +followed by the sound of the bell as it rang for lock-up. Then he +picked his way carefully through the groves of chairs, barking his +shins now and then on their out-turned legs, and, pushing open the +door, went out into the open air. It felt very fresh and pleasant after +the brand of atmosphere supplied in the vault. He then ran over to the +gymnasium to meet Moriarty, feeling a little disgusted at the lack of +success that had attended his detective efforts up to the present. So +far he had nothing to show for his trouble except a good deal of dust +on his clothes, and a dirty collar, but he was full of determination. +He could play a waiting game. + +It was a pity, as it happened, that O'Hara left the vault when he did. +Five minutes after he had gone, six shadowy forms made their way +silently and in single file through the doorway of the vault, which +they closed carefully behind them. The fact that it was after lock-up +was of small consequence. A good deal of latitude in that way was +allowed at Wrykyn. It was the custom to go out, after the bell had +sounded, to visit the gymnasium. In the winter and Easter terms, the +gymnasium became a sort of social club. People went there with a very +small intention of doing gymnastics. They went to lounge about, talking +to cronies, in front of the two huge stoves which warmed the place. +Occasionally, as a concession to the look of the thing, they would do +an easy exercise or two on the horse or parallels, but, for the most +part, they preferred the _role_ of spectator. There was plenty to +see. In one corner O'Hara and Moriarty would be sparring their nightly +six rounds (in two batches of three rounds each). In another, Drummond, +who was going up to Aldershot as a feather-weight, would be putting in +a little practice with the instructor. On the apparatus, the members of +the gymnastic six, including the two experts who were to carry the +school colours to Aldershot in the spring, would be performing their +usual marvels. It was worth dropping into the gymnasium of an evening. +In no other place in the school were so many sights to be seen. + +When you were surfeited with sightseeing, you went off to your house. +And this was where the peculiar beauty of the gymnasium system came in. +You went up to any master who happened to be there--there was always +one at least--and observed in suave accents, "Please, sir, can I have a +paper?" Whereupon, he, taking a scrap of paper, would write upon it, +"J. O. Jones (or A. B. Smith or C. D. Robinson) left gymnasium at +such-and-such a time". And, by presenting this to the menial who +opened the door to you at your house, you went in rejoicing, and all +was peace. + +Now, there was no mention on the paper of the hour at which you came to +the gymnasium--only of the hour at which you left. Consequently, certain +lawless spirits would range the neighbourhood after lock-up, and, by +putting in a quarter of an hour at the gymnasium before returning to +their houses, escape comment. To this class belonged the shadowy forms +previously mentioned. + +O'Hara had forgotten this custom, with the result that he was not at +the vault when they arrived. Moriarty, to whom he confided between the +rounds the substance of his evening's discoveries, reminded him of it. +"It's no good watching before lock-up," he said. "After six is the time +they'll come, if they come at all." + +"Bedad, ye're right," said O'Hara. "One of these nights we'll take a +night off from boxing, and go and watch." + +"Right," said Moriarty. "Are ye ready to go on?" + +"Yes. I'm going to practise that left swing at the body this round. The +one Fitzsimmons does." And they "put 'em up" once more. + + + + +X + +BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS + + +On the evening following O'Hara's adventure in the vaults, Barry and +M'Todd were in their study, getting out the tea-things. Most Wrykinians +brewed in the winter and Easter terms, when the days were short and +lock-up early. In the summer term there were other things to do--nets, +which lasted till a quarter to seven (when lock-up was), and the +baths--and brewing practically ceased. But just now it was at its height, +and every evening, at a quarter past five, there might be heard in the +houses the sizzling of the succulent sausage and other rare delicacies. +As a rule, one or two studies would club together to brew, instead of +preparing solitary banquets. This was found both more convivial and +more economical. At Seymour's, studies numbers five, six, and seven had +always combined from time immemorial, and Barry, on obtaining study +six, had carried on the tradition. In study five were Drummond and his +friend De Bertini. In study seven, which was a smaller room and only +capable of holding one person with any comfort, one James Rupert +Leather-Twigg (that was his singular name, as Mr Gilbert has it) had +taken up his abode. The name of Leather-Twigg having proved, at an +early date in his career, too great a mouthful for Wrykyn, he was known +to his friends and acquaintances by the euphonious title of +Shoeblossom. The charm about the genial Shoeblossom was that you could +never tell what he was going to do next. All that you could rely on +with any certainty was that it would be something which would have been +better left undone. + +It was just five o'clock when Barry and M'Todd started to get things +ready. They were not high enough up in the school to have fags, so that +they had to do this for themselves. + +Barry was still in football clothes. He had been out running and +passing with the first fifteen. M'Todd, whose idea of exercise was +winding up a watch, had been spending his time since school ceased in +the study with a book. He was in his ordinary clothes. It was therefore +fortunate that, when he upset the kettle (he nearly always did at some +period of the evening's business), the contents spread themselves over +Barry, and not over himself. Football clothes will stand any amount of +water, whereas M'Todd's "Youth's winter suiting at forty-two shillings +and sixpence" might have been injured. Barry, however, did not look +upon the episode in this philosophical light. He spoke to him +eloquently for a while, and then sent him downstairs to fetch more +water. While he was away, Drummond and De Bertini came in. + +"Hullo," said Drummond, "tea ready?" + +"Not much," replied Barry, bitterly, "not likely to be, either, at this +rate. We'd just got the kettle going when that ass M'Todd plunged +against the table and upset the lot over my bags. Lucky the beastly +stuff wasn't boiling. I'm soaked." + +"While we wait--the sausages--Yes?--a good idea--M'Todd, he is +downstairs--but to wait? No, no. Let us. Shall we? Is it not so? Yes?" +observed Bertie, lucidly. + +"Now construe," said Barry, looking at the linguist with a bewildered +expression. It was a source of no little inconvenience to his friends +that De Bertini was so very fixed in his determination to speak +English. He was a trier all the way, was De Bertini. You rarely caught +him helping out his remarks with the language of his native land. It +was English or nothing with him. To most of his circle it might as well +have been Zulu. + +Drummond, either through natural genius or because he spent more time +with him, was generally able to act as interpreter. Occasionally there +would come a linguistic effort by which even he freely confessed +himself baffled, and then they would pass on unsatisfied. But, as a +rule, he was equal to the emergency. He was so now. + +"What Bertie means," he explained, "is that it's no good us waiting for +M'Todd to come back. He never could fill a kettle in less than ten +minutes, and even then he's certain to spill it coming upstairs and +have to go back again. Let's get on with the sausages." + +The pan had just been placed on the fire when M'Todd returned with the +water. He tripped over the mat as he entered, and spilt about half a +pint into one of his football boots, which stood inside the door, but +the accident was comparatively trivial, and excited no remark. + +"I wonder where that slacker Shoeblossom has got to," said Barry. "He +never turns up in time to do any work. He seems to regard himself as a +beastly guest. I wish we could finish the sausages before he comes. It +would be a sell for him." + +"Not much chance of that," said Drummond, who was kneeling before the +fire and keeping an excited eye on the spluttering pan, "_you_ +see. He'll come just as we've finished cooking them. I believe the man +waits outside with his ear to the keyhole. Hullo! Stand by with the +plate. They'll be done in half a jiffy." + +Just as the last sausage was deposited in safety on the plate, the door +opened, and Shoeblossom, looking as if he had not brushed his hair +since early childhood, sidled in with an attempt at an easy nonchalance +which was rendered quite impossible by the hopeless state of his +conscience. + +"Ah," he said, "brewing, I see. Can I be of any use?" + +"We've finished years ago," said Barry. + +"Ages ago," said M'Todd. + +A look of intense alarm appeared on Shoeblossom's classical features. + +"You've not finished, really?" + +"We've finished cooking everything," said Drummond. "We haven't begun +tea yet. Now, are you happy?" + +Shoeblossom was. So happy that he felt he must do something to +celebrate the occasion. He felt like a successful general. There must +be _something_ he could do to show that he regarded the situation +with approval. He looked round the study. Ha! Happy thought--the +frying-pan. That useful culinary instrument was lying in the fender, +still bearing its cargo of fat, and beside it--a sight to stir the +blood and make the heart beat faster--were the sausages, piled up on +their plate. + +Shoeblossom stooped. He seized the frying-pan. He gave it one twirl in +the air. Then, before any one could stop him, he had turned it upside +down over the fire. As has been already remarked, you could never +predict exactly what James Rupert Leather-Twigg would be up to next. + +When anything goes out of the frying-pan into the fire, it is usually +productive of interesting by-products. The maxim applies to fat. The +fat was in the fire with a vengeance. A great sheet of flame rushed out +and up. Shoeblossom leaped back with a readiness highly creditable in +one who was not a professional acrobat. The covering of the mantelpiece +caught fire. The flames went roaring up the chimney. + +Drummond, cool while everything else was so hot, without a word moved +to the mantelpiece to beat out the fire with a football shirt. Bertie +was talking rapidly to himself in French. Nobody could understand what +he was saying, which was possibly fortunate. + +By the time Drummond had extinguished the mantelpiece, Barry had also +done good work by knocking the fire into the grate with the poker. +M'Todd, who had been standing up till now in the far corner of the +room, gaping vaguely at things in general, now came into action. +Probably it was force of habit that suggested to him that the time had +come to upset the kettle. At any rate, upset it he did--most of it over +the glowing, blazing mass in the grate, the rest over Barry. One of the +largest and most detestable smells the study had ever had to endure +instantly assailed their nostrils. The fire in the study was out now, +but in the chimney it still blazed merrily. + +"Go up on to the roof and heave water down," said Drummond, the +strategist. "You can get out from Milton's dormitory window. And take +care not to chuck it down the wrong chimney." + +Barry was starting for the door to carry out these excellent +instructions, when it flew open. + +"Pah! What have you boys been doing? What an abominable smell. Pah!" +said a muffled voice. It was Mr Seymour. Most of his face was concealed +in a large handkerchief, but by the look of his eyes, which appeared +above, he did not seem pleased. He took in the situation at a glance. +Fires in the house were not rarities. One facetious sportsman had once +made a rule of setting the senior day-room chimney on fire every term. +He had since left (by request), but fires still occurred. + +"Is the chimney on fire?" + +"Yes, sir," said Drummond. + +"Go and find Herbert, and tell him to take some water on to the roof +and throw it down." Herbert was the boot and knife cleaner at +Seymour's. + +Barry went. Soon afterwards a splash of water in the grate announced +that the intrepid Herbert was hard at it. Another followed, and +another. Then there was a pause. Mr Seymour thought he would look up to +see if the fire was out. He stooped and peered into the darkness, and, +even as he gazed, splash came the contents of the fourth pail, together +with some soot with which they had formed a travelling acquaintance on +the way down. Mr Seymour staggered back, grimy and dripping. There was +dead silence in the study. Shoeblossom's face might have been seen +working convulsively. + +The silence was broken by a hollow, sepulchral voice with a strong +Cockney accent. + +"Did yer see any water come down then, sir?" said the voice. + +Shoeblossom collapsed into a chair, and began to sob feebly. + + * * * * * + +"--disgraceful ... scandalous ... get _up_, Leather-Twigg ... not to +be trusted ... _babies_ ... three hundred lines, Leather-Twigg ... +abominable ... surprised ... ought to be ashamed of yourselves ... +_double_, Leather-Twigg ... not fit to have studies ... atrocious ...--" + +Such were the main heads of Mr Seymour's speech on the situation as he +dabbed desperately at the soot on his face with his handkerchief. +Shoeblossom stood and gurgled throughout. Not even the thought of six +hundred lines could quench that dauntless spirit. + +"Finally," perorated Mr Seymour, as he was leaving the room, "as you +are evidently not to be trusted with rooms of your own, I forbid you to +enter them till further notice. It is disgraceful that such a thing +should happen. Do you hear, Barry? And you, Drummond? You are not to +enter your studies again till I give you leave. Move your books down to +the senior day-room tonight." + +And Mr Seymour stalked off to clean himself. + +"Anyhow," said Shoeblossom, as his footsteps died away, "we saved the +sausages." + +It is this indomitable gift of looking on the bright side that makes us +Englishmen what we are. + + + + +XI + +THE HOUSE-MATCHES + + +It was something of a consolation to Barry and his friends--at any +rate, to Barry and Drummond--that directly after they had been evicted +from their study, the house-matches began. Except for the Ripton match, +the house-matches were the most important event of the Easter term. +Even the sports at the beginning of April were productive of less +excitement. There were twelve houses at Wrykyn, and they played on the +"knocking-out" system. To be beaten once meant that a house was no +longer eligible for the competition. It could play "friendlies" as much +as it liked, but, play it never so wisely, it could not lift the cup. +Thus it often happened that a weak house, by fluking a victory over a +strong rival, found itself, much to its surprise, in the semi-final, or +sometimes even in the final. This was rarer at football than at +cricket, for at football the better team generally wins. + +The favourites this year were Donaldson's, though some fancied +Seymour's. Donaldson's had Trevor, whose leadership was worth almost +more than his play. In no other house was training so rigid. You could +tell a Donaldson's man, if he was in his house-team, at a glance. If +you saw a man eating oatmeal biscuits in the shop, and eyeing wistfully +the while the stacks of buns and pastry, you could put him down as a +Donaldsonite without further evidence. The captains of the other houses +used to prescribe a certain amount of self-abnegation in the matter of +food, but Trevor left his men barely enough to support life--enough, +that is, of the things that are really worth eating. The consequence +was that Donaldson's would turn out for an important match all muscle +and bone, and on such occasions it was bad for those of their opponents +who had been taking life more easily. Besides Trevor they had Clowes, +and had had bad luck in not having Paget. Had Paget stopped, no other +house could have looked at them. But by his departure, the strength of +the team had become more nearly on a level with that of Seymour's. + +Some even thought that Seymour's were the stronger. Milton was as good +a forward as the school possessed. Besides him there were Barry and +Rand-Brown on the wings. Drummond was a useful half, and five of the +pack had either first or second fifteen colours. It was a team that +would take some beating. + +Trevor came to that conclusion early. "If we can beat Seymour's, we'll +lift the cup," he said to Clowes. + +"We'll have to do all we know," was Clowes' reply. + +They were watching Seymour's pile up an immense score against a scratch +team got up by one of the masters. The first round of the competition +was over. Donaldson's had beaten Templar's, Seymour's the School House. +Templar's were rather stronger than the School House, and Donaldson's +had beaten them by a rather larger score than that which Seymour's had +run up in their match. But neither Trevor nor Clowes was inclined to +draw any augury from this. Seymour's had taken things easily after +half-time; Donaldson's had kept going hard all through. + +"That makes Rand-Brown's fourth try," said Clowes, as the wing +three-quarter of the second fifteen raced round and scored in the +corner. + +"Yes. This is the sort of game he's all right in. The man who's marking +him is no good. Barry's scored twice, and both good tries, too." + +"Oh, there's no doubt which is the best man," said Clowes. "I only +mentioned that it was Rand-Brown's fourth as an item of interest." + +The game continued. Barry scored a third try. + +"We're drawn against Appleby's next round," said Trevor. "We can manage +them all right." + +"When is it?" + +"Next Thursday. Nomads' match on Saturday. Then Ripton, Saturday week." + +"Who've Seymour's drawn?" + +"Day's. It'll be a good game, too. Seymour's ought to win, but they'll +have to play their best. Day's have got some good men." + +"Fine scrum," said Clowes. "Yes. Quick in the open, too, which is +always good business. I wish they'd beat Seymour's." + +"Oh, we ought to be all right, whichever wins." + +Appleby's did not offer any very serious resistance to the Donaldson +attack. They were outplayed at every point of the game, and, before +half-time, Donaldson's had scored their thirty points. It was a rule in +all in-school matches--and a good rule, too--that, when one side led by +thirty points, the match stopped. This prevented those massacres which +do so much towards crushing all the football out of the members of the +beaten team; and it kept the winning team from getting slack, by urging +them on to score their thirty points before half-time. There were some +houses--notoriously slack--which would go for a couple of seasons +without ever playing the second half of a match. + +Having polished off the men of Appleby, the Donaldson team trooped off +to the other game to see how Seymour's were getting on with Day's. It +was evidently an exciting match. The first half had been played to the +accompaniment of much shouting from the ropes. Though coming so early +in the competition, it was really the semi-final, for whichever team +won would be almost certain to get into the final. The school had +turned up in large numbers to watch. + +"Seymour's looking tired of life," said Clowes. "That would seem as if +his fellows weren't doing well." + +"What's been happening here?" asked Trevor of an enthusiast in a +Seymour's house cap whose face was crimson with yelling. + +"One goal all," replied the enthusiast huskily. "Did you beat +Appleby's?" + +"Yes. Thirty points before half-time. Who's been doing the scoring +here?" + +"Milton got in for us. He barged through out of touch. We've been +pressing the whole time. Barry got over once, but he was held up. +Hullo, they're beginning again. Buck up, Sey-_mour's_." + +His voice cracking on the high note, he took an immense slab of vanilla +chocolate as a remedy for hoarseness. + +"Who scored for Day's?" asked Clowes. + +"Strachan. Rand-Brown let him through from their twenty-five. You never +saw anything so rotten as Rand-Brown. He doesn't take his passes, and +Strachan gets past him every time." + +"Is Strachan playing on the wing?" + +Strachan was the first fifteen full-back. + +"Yes. They've put young Bassett back instead of him. Sey-_mour's_. +Buck up, Seymour's. We-ell played! There, did you ever see anything +like it?" he broke off disgustedly. + +The Seymourite playing centre next to Rand-Brown had run through to the +back and passed out to his wing, as a good centre should. It was a +perfect pass, except that it came at his head instead of his chest. +Nobody with any pretensions to decent play should have missed it. +Rand-Brown, however, achieved that feat. The ball struck his hands +and bounded forward. The referee blew his whistle for a scrum, and a +certain try was lost. + +From the scrum the Seymour's forwards broke away to the goal-line, +where they were pulled up by Bassett. The next minute the defence had +been pierced, and Drummond was lying on the ball a yard across the +line. The enthusiast standing by Clowes expended the last relics of his +voice in commemorating the fact that his side had the lead. + +"Drummond'll be good next year," said Trevor. And he made a mental note +to tell Allardyce, who would succeed him in the command of the school +football, to keep an eye on the player in question. + +The triumph of the Seymourites was not long lived. Milton failed to +convert Drummond's try. From the drop-out from the twenty-five line +Barry got the ball, and punted into touch. The throw-out was not +straight, and a scrum was formed. The ball came out to the Day's +halves, and went across to Strachan. Rand-Brown hesitated, and then +made a futile spring at the first fifteen man's neck. Strachan handed +him off easily, and ran. The Seymour's full-back, who was a poor +player, failed to get across in time. Strachan ran round behind the +posts, the kick succeeded, and Day's now led by two points. + +After this the game continued in Day's half. Five minutes before time +was up, Drummond got the ball from a scrum nearly on the line, passed +it to Barry on the wing instead of opening up the game by passing to +his centres, and Barry slipped through in the corner. This put +Seymour's just one point ahead, and there they stayed till the whistle +blew for no-side. + +Milton walked over to the boarding-houses with Clowes and Trevor. He +was full of the match, particularly of the iniquity of Rand-Brown. "I +slanged him on the field," he said. "It's a thing I don't often do, but +what else _can_ you do when a man plays like that? He lost us +three certain tries." + +"When did you administer your rebuke?" inquired Clowes. + +"When he had let Strachan through that second time, in the second half. +I asked him why on earth he tried to play footer at all. I told him a +good kiss-in-the-ring club was about his form. It was rather cheap, but +I felt so frightfully sick about it. It's sickening to be let down like +that when you've been pressing the whole time, and ought to be scoring +every other minute." + +"What had he to say on the subject?" asked Clowes. + +"Oh, he gassed a bit until I told him I'd kick him if he said another +word. That shut him up." + +"You ought to have kicked him. You want all the kicking practice you +can get. I never saw anything feebler than that shot of yours after +Drummond's try." + +"I'd like to see _you_ take a kick like that. It was nearly on the +touch-line. Still, when we play you, we shan't need to convert any of +our tries. We'll get our thirty points without that. Perhaps you'd like +to scratch?" + +"As a matter of fact," said Clowes confidentially, "I am going to score +seven tries against you off my own bat. You'll be sorry you ever turned +out when we've finished with you." + + + + +XII + +NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT + + +Shoeblossom sat disconsolately on the table in the senior day-room. He +was not happy in exile. Brewing in the senior day-room was a mere +vulgar brawl, lacking all the refining influences of the study. You had +to fight for a place at the fire, and when you had got it 'twas not +always easy to keep it, and there was no privacy, and the fellows were +always bear-fighting, so that it was impossible to read a book quietly +for ten consecutive minutes without some ass heaving a cushion at you +or turning out the gas. Altogether Shoeblossom yearned for the peace of +his study, and wished earnestly that Mr Seymour would withdraw the +order of banishment. It was the not being able to read that he objected +to chiefly. In place of brewing, the ex-proprietors of studies five, +six, and seven now made a practice of going to the school shop. It was +more expensive and not nearly so comfortable--there is a romance about +a study brew which you can never get anywhere else--but it served, and +it was not on this score that he grumbled most. What he hated was +having to live in a bear-garden. For Shoeblossom was a man of moods. +Give him two or three congenial spirits to back him up, and he would +lead the revels with the _abandon_ of a Mr Bultitude (after his +return to his original form). But he liked to choose his accomplices, +and the gay sparks of the senior day-room did not appeal to him. They +were not intellectual enough. In his lucid intervals, he was accustomed +to be almost abnormally solemn and respectable. When not promoting some +unholy rag, Shoeblossom resembled an elderly gentleman of studious +habits. He liked to sit in a comfortable chair and read a book. It was +the impossibility of doing this in the senior day-room that led him to +try and think of some other haven where he might rest. Had it been +summer, he would have taken some literature out on to the cricket-field +or the downs, and put in a little steady reading there, with the aid of +a bag of cherries. But with the thermometer low, that was impossible. + +He felt very lonely and dismal. He was not a man with many friends. In +fact, Barry and the other three were almost the only members of the +house with whom he was on speaking-terms. And of these four he saw very +little. Drummond and Barry were always out of doors or over at the +gymnasium, and as for M'Todd and De Bertini, it was not worth while +talking to the one, and impossible to talk to the other. No wonder +Shoeblossom felt dull. Once Barry and Drummond had taken him over to +the gymnasium with them, but this had bored him worse than ever. They +had been hard at it all the time--for, unlike a good many of the +school, they went to the gymnasium for business, not to lounge--and he +had had to sit about watching them. And watching gymnastics was one of +the things he most loathed. Since then he had refused to go. + +That night matters came to a head. Just as he had settled down to read, +somebody, in flinging a cushion across the room, brought down the gas +apparatus with a run, and before light was once more restored it was +tea-time. After that there was preparation, which lasted for two hours, +and by the time he had to go to bed he had not been able to read a +single page of the enthralling work with which he was at present +occupied. + +He had just got into bed when he was struck with a brilliant idea. Why +waste the precious hours in sleep? What was that saying of somebody's, +"Five hours for a wise man, six for somebody else--he forgot whom--eight +for a fool, nine for an idiot," or words to that effect? Five hours +sleep would mean that he need not go to bed till half past two. In the +meanwhile he could be finding out exactly what the hero _did_ do when +he found out (to his horror) that it was his cousin Jasper who had +really killed the old gentleman in the wood. The only question was--how +was he to do his reading? Prefects were allowed to work on after lights +out in their dormitories by the aid of a candle, but to the ordinary +mortal this was forbidden. + +Then he was struck with another brilliant idea. It is a curious thing +about ideas. You do not get one for over a month, and then there comes +a rush of them, all brilliant. Why, he thought, should he not go and +read in his study with a dark lantern? He had a dark lantern. It was +one of the things he had found lying about at home on the last day of +the holidays, and had brought with him to school. It was his custom to +go about the house just before the holidays ended, snapping up +unconsidered trifles, which might or might not come in useful. This +term he had brought back a curious metal vase (which looked Indian, but +which had probably been made in Birmingham the year before last), two +old coins (of no mortal use to anybody in the world, including +himself), and the dark lantern. It was reposing now in the cupboard in +his study nearest the window. + +He had brought his book up with him on coming to bed, on the chance +that he might have time to read a page or two if he woke up early. (He +had always been doubtful about that man Jasper. For one thing, he had +been seen pawning the old gentleman's watch on the afternoon of the +murder, which was a suspicious circumstance, and then he was not a nice +character at all, and just the sort of man who would be likely to murder +old gentlemen in woods.) He waited till Mr Seymour had paid his nightly +visit--he went the round of the dormitories at about eleven--and then he +chuckled gently. If Mill, the dormitory prefect, was awake, the chuckle +would make him speak, for Mill was of a suspicious nature, and believed +that it was only his unintermitted vigilance which prevented the +dormitory ragging all night. + +Mill _was_ awake. + +"Be quiet, there," he growled. "Shut up that noise." + +Shoeblossom felt that the time was not yet ripe for his departure. Half +an hour later he tried again. There was no rebuke. To make certain he +emitted a second chuckle, replete with sinister meaning. A slight snore +came from the direction of Mill's bed. Shoeblossom crept out of the +room, and hurried to his study. The door was not locked, for Mr Seymour +had relied on his commands being sufficient to keep the owner out of +it. He slipped in, found and lit the dark lantern, and settled down to +read. He read with feverish excitement. The thing was, you see, that +though Claud Trevelyan (that was the hero) knew jolly well that it was +Jasper who had done the murder, the police didn't, and, as he (Claud) +was too noble to tell them, he had himself been arrested on suspicion. +Shoeblossom was skimming through the pages with starting eyes, when +suddenly his attention was taken from his book by a sound. It was a +footstep. Somebody was coming down the passage, and under the door +filtered a thin stream of light. To snap the dark slide over the +lantern and dart to the door, so that if it opened he would be behind +it, was with him, as Mr Claud Trevelyan might have remarked, the work +of a moment. He heard the door of study number five flung open, and +then the footsteps passed on, and stopped opposite his own den. The +handle turned, and the light of a candle flashed into the room, to be +extinguished instantly as the draught of the moving door caught it. + +Shoeblossom heard his visitor utter an exclamation of annoyance, and +fumble in his pocket for matches. He recognised the voice. It was Mr +Seymour's. The fact was that Mr Seymour had had the same experience as +General Stanley in _The Pirates of Penzance_: + + The man who finds his conscience ache, + No peace at all enjoys; + And, as I lay in bed awake, + I thought I heard a noise. + +Whether Mr Seymour's conscience ached or not, cannot, of course, be +discovered. But he had certainly thought he heard a noise, and he had +come to investigate. + +The search for matches had so far proved fruitless. Shoeblossom stood +and quaked behind the door. The reek of hot tin from the dark lantern +grew worse momentarily. Mr Seymour sniffed several times, until +Shoeblossom thought that he must be discovered. Then, to his immense +relief, the master walked away. Shoeblossom's chance had come. Mr +Seymour had probably gone to get some matches to relight his candle. It +was far from likely that the episode was closed. He would be back again +presently. If Shoeblossom was going to escape, he must do it now, so he +waited till the footsteps had passed away, and then darted out in the +direction of his dormitory. + +As he was passing Milton's study, a white figure glided out of it. All +that he had ever read or heard of spectres rushed into Shoeblossom's +petrified brain. He wished he was safely in bed. He wished he had never +come out of it. He wished he had led a better and nobler life. He +wished he had never been born. + +The figure passed quite close to him as he stood glued against the +wall, and he saw it disappear into the dormitory opposite his own, of +which Rigby was prefect. He blushed hotly at the thought of the fright +he had been in. It was only somebody playing the same game as himself. + +He jumped into bed and lay down, having first plunged the lantern +bodily into his jug to extinguish it. Its indignant hiss had scarcely +died away when Mr Seymour appeared at the door. It had occurred to Mr +Seymour that he had smelt something very much out of the ordinary in +Shoeblossom's study, a smell uncommonly like that of hot tin. And a +suspicion dawned on him that Shoeblossom had been in there with a dark +lantern. He had come to the dormitory to confirm his suspicions. But a +glance showed him how unjust they had been. There was Shoeblossom fast +asleep. Mr Seymour therefore followed the excellent example of my Lord +Tomnoddy on a celebrated occasion, and went off to bed. + + * * * * * + +It was the custom for the captain of football at Wrykyn to select and +publish the team for the Ripton match a week before the day on which it +was to be played. On the evening after the Nomads' match, Trevor was +sitting in his study writing out the names, when there came a knock at +the door, and his fag entered with a letter. + +"This has just come, Trevor," he said. + +"All right. Put it down." + +The fag left the room. Trevor picked up the letter. The handwriting was +strange to him. The words had been printed. Then it flashed upon him +that he had received a letter once before addressed in the same +way--the letter from the League about Barry. Was this, too, from +that address? He opened it. + +It was. + +He read it, and gasped. The worst had happened. The gold bat was in the +hands of the enemy. + + + + +XIII + +VICTIM NUMBER THREE + + +"With reference to our last communication," ran the letter--the writer +evidently believed in the commercial style--"it may interest you to +know that the bat you lost by the statue on the night of the 26th of +January has come into our possession. _We observe that Barry is still +playing for the first fifteen._" + +"And will jolly well continue to," muttered Trevor, crumpling the paper +viciously into a ball. + +He went on writing the names for the Ripton match. The last name on the +list was Barry's. + +Then he sat back in his chair, and began to wrestle with this new +development. Barry must play. That was certain. All the bluff in the +world was not going to keep him from playing the best man at his disposal +in the Ripton match. He himself did not count. It was the school he had +to think of. This being so, what was likely to happen? Though nothing +was said on the point, he felt certain that if he persisted in ignoring +the League, that bat would find its way somehow--by devious routes, +possibly--to the headmaster or some one else in authority. And then +there would be questions--awkward questions--and things would begin +to come out. Then a fresh point struck him, which was, that whatever +might happen would affect, not himself, but O'Hara. This made it rather +more of a problem how to act. Personally, he was one of those dogged +characters who can put up with almost anything themselves. If this had +been his affair, he would have gone on his way without hesitating. +Evidently the writer of the letter was under the impression that he +had been the hero (or villain) of the statue escapade. + +If everything came out it did not require any great effort of prophecy +to predict what the result would be. O'Hara would go. Promptly. He +would receive his marching orders within ten minutes of the discovery +of what he had done. He would be expelled twice over, so to speak, once +for breaking out at night--one of the most heinous offences in the +school code--and once for tarring the statue. Anything that gave the +school a bad name in the town was a crime in the eyes of the powers, +and this was such a particularly flagrant case. Yes, there was no doubt +of that. O'Hara would take the first train home without waiting to pack +up. Trevor knew his people well, and he could imagine their feelings +when the prodigal strolled into their midst--an old Wrykinian _malgre +lui_. As the philosopher said of falling off a ladder, it is not the +falling that matters: it is the sudden stopping at the other end. It is +not the being expelled that is so peculiarly objectionable: it is the +sudden homecoming. With this gloomy vision before him, Trevor almost +wavered. But the thought that the selection of the team had nothing +whatever to do with his personal feelings strengthened him. He was +simply a machine, devised to select the fifteen best men in the school +to meet Ripton. In his official capacity of football captain he was not +supposed to have any feelings. However, he yielded in so far that he +went to Clowes to ask his opinion. + +Clowes, having heard everything and seen the letter, unhesitatingly +voted for the right course. If fifty mad Irishmen were to be expelled, +Barry must play against Ripton. He was the best man, and in he must go. + +"That's what I thought," said Trevor. "It's bad for O'Hara, though." + +Clowes remarked somewhat tritely that business was business. + +"Besides," he went on, "you're assuming that the thing this letter +hints at will really come off. I don't think it will. A man would have +to be such an awful blackguard to go as low as that. The least grain of +decency in him would stop him. I can imagine a man threatening to do it +as a piece of bluff--by the way, the letter doesn't actually say +anything of the sort, though I suppose it hints at it--but I can't +imagine anybody out of a melodrama doing it." + +"You can never tell," said Trevor. He felt that this was but an outside +chance. The forbearance of one's antagonist is but a poor thing to +trust to at the best of times. + +"Are you going to tell O'Hara?" asked Clowes. + +"I don't see the good. Would you?" + +"No. He can't do anything, and it would only give him a bad time. There +are pleasanter things, I should think, than going on from day to day not +knowing whether you're going to be sacked or not within the next twelve +hours. Don't tell him." + +"I won't. And Barry plays against Ripton." + +"Certainly. He's the best man." + +"I'm going over to Seymour's now," said Trevor, after a pause, "to see +Milton. We've drawn Seymour's in the next round of the house-matches. I +suppose you knew. I want to get it over before the Ripton match, for +several reasons. About half the fifteen are playing on one side or the +other, and it'll give them a good chance of getting fit. Running and +passing is all right, but a good, hard game's the thing for putting you +into form. And then I was thinking that, as the side that loses, +whichever it is--" + +"Seymour's, of course." + +"Hope so. Well, they're bound to be a bit sick at losing, so they'll +play up all the harder on Saturday to console themselves for losing the +cup." + +"My word, what strategy!" said Clowes. "You think of everything. When +do you think of playing it, then?" + +"Wednesday struck me as a good day. Don't you think so?" + +"It would do splendidly. It'll be a good match. For all practical +purposes, of course, it's the final. If we beat Seymour's, I don't +think the others will trouble us much." + +There was just time to see Milton before lock-up. Trevor ran across to +Seymour's, and went up to his study. + +"Come in," said Milton, in answer to his knock. + +Trevor went in, and stood surprised at the difference in the look of +the place since the last time he had visited it. The walls, once +covered with photographs, were bare. Milton, seated before the fire, +was ruefully contemplating what looked like a heap of waste cardboard. + +Trevor recognised the symptoms. He had had experience. + +"You don't mean to say they've been at you, too!" he cried. + +Milton's normally cheerful face was thunderous and gloomy. + +"Yes. I was thinking what I'd like to do to the man who ragged it." + +"It's the League again, I suppose?" + +Milton looked surprised. + +"_Again?_" he said, "where did _you_ hear of the League? +This is the first time I've heard of its existence, whatever it is. +What is the confounded thing, and why on earth have they played the +fool here? What's the meaning of this bally rot?" + +He exhibited one of the variety of cards of which Trevor had already +seen two specimens. Trevor explained briefly the style and nature of +the League, and mentioned that his study also had been wrecked. + +"Your study? Why, what have they got against you?" + +"I don't know," said Trevor. Nothing was to be gained by speaking of +the letters he had received. + +"Did they cut up your photographs?" + +"Every one." + +"I tell you what it is, Trevor, old chap," said Milton, with great +solemnity, "there's a lunatic in the school. That's what I make of it. +A lunatic whose form of madness is wrecking studies." + +"But the same chap couldn't have done yours and mine. It must have been +a Donaldson's fellow who did mine, and one of your chaps who did yours +and Mill's." + +"Mill's? By Jove, of course. I never thought of that. That was the +League, too, I suppose?" + +"Yes. One of those cards was tied to a chair, but Clowes took it away +before anybody saw it." + +Milton returned to the details of the disaster. + +"Was there any ink spilt in your room?" + +"Pints," said Trevor, shortly. The subject was painful. + +"So there was here," said Milton, mournfully. "Gallons." + +There was silence for a while, each pondering over his wrongs. + +"Gallons," said Milton again. "I was ass enough to keep a large pot +full of it here, and they used it all, every drop. You never saw such a +sight." + +Trevor said he had seen one similar spectacle. + +"And my photographs! You remember those photographs I showed you? All +ruined. Slit across with a knife. Some torn in half. I wish I knew who +did that." + +Trevor said he wished so, too. + +"There was one of Mrs Patrick Campbell," Milton continued in +heartrending tones, "which was torn into sixteen pieces. I counted +them. There they are on the mantelpiece. And there was one of Little +Tich" (here he almost broke down), "which was so covered with ink that +for half an hour I couldn't recognise it. Fact." + +Trevor nodded sympathetically. + +"Yes," said Milton. "Soaked." + +There was another silence. Trevor felt it would be almost an outrage to +discuss so prosaic a topic as the date of a house-match with one so +broken up. Yet time was flying, and lock-up was drawing near. + +"Are you willing to play--" he began. + +"I feel as if I could never play again," interrupted Milton. "You'd +hardly believe the amount of blotting-paper I've used today. It must +have been a lunatic, Dick, old man." + +When Milton called Trevor "Dick", it was a sign that he was moved. When +he called him "Dick, old man", it gave evidence of an internal upheaval +without parallel. + +"Why, who else but a lunatic would get up in the night to wreck another +chap's study? All this was done between eleven last night and seven +this morning. I turned in at eleven, and when I came down here again at +seven the place was a wreck. It must have been a lunatic." + +"How do you account for the printed card from the League?" + +Milton murmured something about madmen's cunning and diverting +suspicion, and relapsed into silence. Trevor seized the opportunity to +make the proposal he had come to make, that Donaldson's _v._ +Seymour's should be played on the following Wednesday. + +Milton agreed listlessly. + +"Just where you're standing," he said, "I found a photograph of Sir +Henry Irving so slashed about that I thought at first it was Huntley +Wright in _San Toy_." + +"Start at two-thirty sharp," said Trevor. + +"I had seventeen of Edna May," continued the stricken Seymourite, +monotonously. "In various attitudes. All destroyed." + +"On the first fifteen ground, of course," said Trevor. "I'll get +Aldridge to referee. That'll suit you, I suppose?" + +"All right. Anything you like. Just by the fireplace I found the +remains of Arthur Roberts in _H.M.S. Irresponsible_. And part of +Seymour Hicks. Under the table--" + +Trevor departed. + + + + +XIV + +THE WHITE FIGURE + + +"Suppose," said Shoeblossom to Barry, as they were walking over to +school on the morning following the day on which Milton's study had +passed through the hands of the League, "suppose you thought somebody +had done something, but you weren't quite certain who, but you knew it +was some one, what would you do?" + +"What on _earth_ do you mean?" inquired Barry. + +"I was trying to make an A.B. case of it," explained Shoeblossom. + +"What's an A.B. case?" + +"I don't know," admitted Shoeblossom, frankly. "But it comes in a book +of Stevenson's. I think it must mean a sort of case where you call +everyone A. and B. and don't tell their names." + +"Well, go ahead." + +"It's about Milton's study." + +"What! what about it?" + +"Well, you see, the night it was ragged I was sitting in my study with +a dark lantern--" + +"What!" + +Shoeblossom proceeded to relate the moving narrative of his +night-walking adventure. He dwelt movingly on his state of mind +when standing behind the door, waiting for Mr Seymour to come in +and find him. He related with appropriate force the hair-raising +episode of the weird white figure. And then he came to the conclusions +he had since drawn (in calmer moments) from that apparition's movements. + +"You see," he said, "I saw it coming out of Milton's study, and that +must have been about the time the study was ragged. And it went into +Rigby's dorm. So it must have been a chap in that dorm, who did it." + +Shoeblossom was quite clever at rare intervals. Even Barry, whose +belief in his sanity was of the smallest, was compelled to admit that +here, at any rate, he was talking sense. + +"What would you do?" asked Shoeblossom. + +"Tell Milton, of course," said Barry. + +"But he'd give me beans for being out of the dorm, after lights-out." + +This was a distinct point to be considered. The attitude of Barry +towards Milton was different from that of Shoeblossom. Barry regarded +him--through having played with him in important matches--as a good +sort of fellow who had always behaved decently to him. Leather-Twigg, +on the other hand, looked on him with undisguised apprehension, as one +in authority who would give him lines the first time he came into +contact with him, and cane him if he ever did it again. He had a +decided disinclination to see Milton on any pretext whatever. + +"Suppose I tell him?" suggested Barry. + +"You'll keep my name dark?" said Shoeblossom, alarmed. + +Barry said he would make an A.B. case of it. + +After school he went to Milton's study, and found him still brooding +over its departed glories. + +"I say, Milton, can I speak to you for a second?" + +"Hullo, Barry. Come in." + +Barry came in. + +"I had forty-three photographs," began Milton, without preamble. "All +destroyed. And I've no money to buy any more. I had seventeen of Edna +May." + +Barry, feeling that he was expected to say something, said, "By Jove! +Really?" + +"In various positions," continued Milton. "All ruined." + +"Not really?" said Barry. + +"There was one of Little Tich--" + +But Barry felt unequal to playing the part of chorus any longer. It was +all very thrilling, but, if Milton was going to run through the entire +list of his destroyed photographs, life would be too short for +conversation on any other topic. + +"I say, Milton," he said, "it was about that that I came. I'm sorry--" + +Milton sat up. + +"It wasn't you who did this, was it?" + +"No, no," said Barry, hastily. + +"Oh, I thought from your saying you were sorry--" + +"I was going to say I thought I could put you on the track of the chap +who did do it--" + +For the second time since the interview began Milton sat up. + +"Go on," he said. + +"--But I'm sorry I can't give you the name of the fellow who told me +about it." + +"That doesn't matter," said Milton. "Tell me the name of the fellow who +did it. That'll satisfy me." + +"I'm afraid I can't do that, either." + +"Have you any idea what you _can_ do?" asked Milton, satirically. + +"I can tell you something which may put you on the right track." + +"That'll do for a start. Well?" + +"Well, the chap who told me--I'll call him A.; I'm going to make an +A.B. case of it--was coming out of his study at about one o'clock in +the morning--" + +"What the deuce was he doing that for?" + +"Because he wanted to go back to bed," said Barry. + +"About time, too. Well?" + +"As he was going past your study, a white figure emerged--" + +"I should strongly advise you, young Barry," said Milton, gravely, "not +to try and rot me in any way. You're a jolly good wing three-quarters, +but you shouldn't presume on it. I'd slay the Old Man himself if he +rotted me about this business." + +Barry was quite pained at this sceptical attitude in one whom he was +going out of his way to assist. + +"I'm not rotting," he protested. "This is all quite true." + +"Well, go on. You were saying something about white figures emerging." + +"Not white figures. A white figure," corrected Barry. "It came out of +your study--" + +"--And vanished through the wall?" + +"It went into Rigby's dorm.," said Barry, sulkily. It was maddening to +have an exclusive bit of news treated in this way. + + +"Did it, by Jove!" said Milton, interested at last. "Are you sure the +chap who told you wasn't pulling your leg? Who was it told you?" + +"I promised him not to say." + +"Out with it, young Barry." + +"I won't," said Barry. + +"You aren't going to tell me?" + +"No." + +Milton gave up the point with much cheerfulness. He liked Barry, and he +realised that he had no right to try and make him break his promise. + +"That's all right," he said. "Thanks very much, Barry. This may be +useful." + +"I'd tell you his name if I hadn't promised, you know, Milton." + +"It doesn't matter," said Milton. "It's not important." + +"Oh, there was one thing I forgot. It was a biggish chap the fellow +saw." + +"How big! My size?" + +"Not quite so tall, I should think. He said he was about Seymour's +size." + +"Thanks. That's worth knowing. Thanks very much, Barry." + +When his visitor had gone, Milton proceeded to unearth one of the +printed lists of the house which were used for purposes of roll-call. +He meant to find out who were in Rigby's dormitory. He put a tick +against the names. There were eighteen of them. The next thing was to +find out which of them was about the same height as Mr Seymour. It was a +somewhat vague description, for the house-master stood about five feet +nine or eight, and a good many of the dormitory were that height, or near +it. At last, after much brain-work, he reduced the number of "possibles" +to seven. These seven were Rigby himself, Linton, Rand-Brown, Griffith, +Hunt, Kershaw, and Chapple. Rigby might be scratched off the list at +once. He was one of Milton's greatest friends. Exeunt also Griffith, +Hunt, and Kershaw. They were mild youths, quite incapable of any deed +of devilry. There remained, therefore, Chapple, Linton, and Rand-Brown. +Chapple was a boy who was invariably late for breakfast. The inference +was that he was not likely to forego his sleep for the purpose of +wrecking studies. Chapple might disappear from the list. Now there +were only Linton and Rand-Brown to be considered. His suspicions fell +on Rand-Brown. Linton was the last person, he thought, to do such a +low thing. He was a cheerful, rollicking individual, who was popular with +everyone and seemed to like everyone. He was not an orderly member of +the house, certainly, and on several occasions Milton had found it +necessary to drop on him heavily for creating disturbances. But he was +not the sort that bears malice. He took it all in the way of business, +and came up smiling after it was over. No, everything pointed to +Rand-Brown. He and Milton had never got on well together, and quite +recently they had quarrelled openly over the former's play in the Day's +match. Rand-Brown must be the man. But Milton was sensible enough to +feel that so far he had no real evidence whatever. He must wait. + +On the following afternoon Seymour's turned out to play Donaldson's. + +The game, like most house-matches, was played with the utmost keenness. +Both teams had good three-quarters, and they attacked in turn. +Seymour's had the best of it forward, where Milton was playing a great +game, but Trevor in the centre was the best outside on the field, and +pulled up rush after rush. By half-time neither side had scored. + +After half-time Seymour's, playing downhill, came away with a rush to +the Donaldsonites' half, and Rand-Brown, with one of the few decent +runs he had made in good class football that term, ran in on the left. +Milton took the kick, but failed, and Seymour's led by three points. +For the next twenty minutes nothing more was scored. Then, when five +minutes more of play remained, Trevor gave Clowes an easy opening, and +Clowes sprinted between the posts. The kick was an easy one, and what +sporting reporters term "the major points" were easily added. + +When there are five more minutes to play in an important house-match, +and one side has scored a goal and the other a try, play is apt to +become spirited. Both teams were doing all they knew. The ball came out +to Barry on the right. Barry's abilities as a three-quarter rested +chiefly on the fact that he could dodge well. This eel-like attribute +compensated for a certain lack of pace. He was past the Donaldson's +three-quarters in an instant, and running for the line, with only the +back to pass, and with Clowes in hot pursuit. Another wriggle took him +past the back, but it also gave Clowes time to catch him up. Clowes was +a far faster runner, and he got to him just as he reached the +twenty-five line. They came down together with a crash, Clowes on +top, and as they fell the whistle blew. + +"No-side," said Mr. Aldridge, the master who was refereeing. + +Clowes got up. + +"All over," he said. "Jolly good game. Hullo, what's up?" + +For Barry seemed to be in trouble. + +"You might give us a hand up," said the latter. "I believe I've twisted +my beastly ankle or something." + + + + +XV + +A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE + + +"I say," said Clowes, helping him up, "I'm awfully sorry. Did I do it? +How did it happen?" + +Barry was engaged in making various attempts at standing on the injured +leg. The process seemed to be painful. + +"Shall I get a stretcher or anything? Can you walk?" + +"If you'd help me over to the house, I could manage all right. What a +beastly nuisance! It wasn't your fault a bit. Only you tackled me when +I was just trying to swerve, and my ankle was all twisted." + +Drummond came up, carrying Barry's blazer and sweater. + +"Hullo, Barry," he said, "what's up? You aren't crocked?" + +"Something gone wrong with my ankle. That my blazer? Thanks. Coming +over to the house? Clowes was just going to help me over." + +Clowes asked a Donaldson's junior, who was lurking near at hand, to +fetch his blazer and carry it over to the house, and then made his way +with Drummond and the disabled Barry to Seymour's. Having arrived at +the senior day-room, they deposited the injured three-quarter in a +chair, and sent M'Todd, who came in at the moment, to fetch the doctor. + +Dr Oakes was a big man with a breezy manner, the sort of doctor who +hits you with the force of a sledge-hammer in the small ribs, and asks +you if you felt anything _then_. It was on this principle that he +acted with regard to Barry's ankle. He seized it in both hands and gave +it a wrench. + +"Did that hurt?" he inquired anxiously. + +Barry turned white, and replied that it did. + +Dr Oakes nodded wisely. + +"Ah! H'm! Just so. 'Myes. Ah." + +"Is it bad?" asked Drummond, awed by these mystic utterances. + +"My dear boy," replied the doctor, breezily, "it is always bad when one +twists one's ankle." + +"How long will it do me out of footer?" asked Barry. + +"How long? How long? How long? Why, fortnight. Fortnight," said the +doctor. + +"Then I shan't be able to play next Saturday?" + +"Next Saturday? Next Saturday? My dear boy, if you can put your foot to +the ground by next Saturday, you may take it as evidence that the age +of miracles is not past. Next Saturday, indeed! Ha, ha." + +It was not altogether his fault that he treated the matter with such +brutal levity. It was a long time since he had been at school, and he +could not quite realise what it meant to Barry not to be able to play +against Ripton. As for Barry, he felt that he had never loathed and +detested any one so thoroughly as he loathed and detested Dr Oakes at +that moment. + +"I don't see where the joke comes in," said Clowes, when he had gone. +"I bar that man." + +"He's a beast," said Drummond. "I can't understand why they let a tout +like that be the school doctor." + +Barry said nothing. He was too sore for words. + +What Dr Oakes said to his wife that evening was: "Over at the school, +my dear, this afternoon. This afternoon. Boy with a twisted ankle. Nice +young fellow. Very much put out when I told him he could not play +football for a fortnight. But I chaffed him, and cheered him up in no +time. I cheered him up in no time, my dear." + +"I'm sure you did, dear," said Mrs Oakes. Which shows how differently +the same thing may strike different people. Barry certainly did not +look as if he had been cheered up when Clowes left the study and went +over to tell Trevor that he would have to find a substitute for his +right wing three-quarter against Ripton. + +Trevor had left the field without noticing Barry's accident, and he was +tremendously pleased at the result of the game. + +"Good man," he said, when Clowes came in, "you saved the match." + +"And lost the Ripton match probably," said Clowes, gloomily. + +"What do you mean?" + +"That last time I brought down Barry I crocked him. He's in his study +now with a sprained ankle. I've just come from there. Oakes has seen +him, and says he mustn't play for a fortnight." + +"Great Scott!" said Trevor, blankly. "What on earth shall we do?" + +"Why not move Strachan up to the wing, and put somebody else back +instead of him? Strachan is a good wing." + +Trevor shook his head. + +"No. There's nobody good enough to play back for the first. We mustn't +risk it." + +"Then I suppose it must be Rand-Brown?" + +"I suppose so." + +"He may do better than we think. He played quite a decent game today. +That try he got wasn't half a bad one." + +"He'd be all right if he didn't funk. But perhaps he wouldn't funk +against Ripton. In a match like that anybody would play up. I'll ask +Milton and Allardyce about it." + +"I shouldn't go to Milton today," said Clowes. "I fancy he'll want a +night's rest before he's fit to talk to. He must be a bit sick about +this match. I know he expected Seymour's to win." + +He went out, but came back almost immediately. + +"I say," he said, "there's one thing that's just occurred to me. +This'll please the League. I mean, this ankle business of Barry's." + +The same idea had struck Trevor. It was certainly a respite. But he +regretted it for all that. What he wanted was to beat Ripton, and +Barry's absence would weaken the team. However, it was good in its way, +and cleared the atmosphere for the time. The League would hardly do +anything with regard to the carrying out of their threat while Barry +was on the sick-list. + +Next day, having given him time to get over the bitterness of defeat +in accordance with Clowes' thoughtful suggestion, Trevor called on +Milton, and asked him what his opinion was on the subject of the +inclusion of Rand-Brown in the first fifteen in place of Barry. + +"He's the next best man," he added, in defence of the proposal. + +"I suppose so," said Milton. "He'd better play, I suppose. There's no +one else." + +"Clowes thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to shove Strachan on the +wing, and put somebody else back." + +"Who is there to put?" + +"Jervis?" + +"Not good enough. No, it's better to be weakish on the wing than at +back. Besides, Rand-Brown may do all right. He played well against +you." + +"Yes," said Trevor. "Study looks a bit better now," he added, as he was +going, having looked round the room. "Still a bit bare, though." + +Milton sighed. "It will never be what it was." + +"Forty-three theatrical photographs want some replacing, of course," +said Trevor. "But it isn't bad, considering." + +"How's yours?" + +"Oh, mine's all right, except for the absence of photographs." + +"I say, Trevor." + +"Yes?" said Trevor, stopping at the door. Milton's voice had taken on +the tone of one who is about to disclose dreadful secrets. + +"Would you like to know what I think?" + +"What?" + +"Why, I'm pretty nearly sure who it was that ragged my study?" + +"By Jove! What have you done to him?" + +"Nothing as yet. I'm not quite sure of my man." + +"Who is the man?" + +"Rand-Brown." + +"By Jove! Clowes once said he thought Rand-Brown must be the President +of the League. But then, I don't see how you can account for _my_ +study being wrecked. He was out on the field when it was done." + +"Why, the League, of course. You don't suppose he's the only man in it? +There must be a lot of them." + +"But what makes you think it was Rand-Brown?" + +Milton told him the story of Shoeblossom, as Barry had told it to him. +The only difference was that Trevor listened without any of the +scepticism which Milton had displayed on hearing it. He was getting +excited. It all fitted in so neatly. If ever there was circumstantial +evidence against a man, here it was against Rand-Brown. Take the two +cases. Milton had quarrelled with him. Milton's study was wrecked "with +the compliments of the League". Trevor had turned him out of the first +fifteen. Trevor's study was wrecked "with the compliments of the +League". As Clowes had pointed out, the man with the most obvious +motive for not wishing Barry to play for the school was Rand-Brown. It +seemed a true bill. + +"I shouldn't wonder if you're right," he said, "but of course one can't +do anything yet. You want a lot more evidence. Anyhow, we must play him +against Ripton, I suppose. Which is his study? I'll go and tell him +now." + +"Ten." + +Trevor knocked at the door of study Ten. Rand-Brown was sitting over +the fire, reading. He jumped up when he saw that it was Trevor who had +come in, and to his visitor it seemed that his face wore a guilty look. + +"What do you want?" said Rand-Brown. + +It was not the politest way of welcoming a visitor. It increased +Trevor's suspicions. The man was afraid. A great idea darted into his +mind. Why not go straight to the point and have it out with him here +and now? He had the League's letter about the bat in his pocket. He +would confront him with it and insist on searching the study there and +then. If Rand-Brown were really, as he suspected, the writer of the +letter, the bat must be in this room somewhere. Search it now, and he +would have no time to hide it. He pulled out the letter. + +"I believe you wrote that," he said. + +Trevor was always direct. + +Rand-Brown seemed to turn a little pale, but his voice when he replied +was quite steady. + +"That's a lie," he said. + +"Then, perhaps," said Trevor, "you wouldn't object to proving it." + +"How?" + +"By letting me search your study?" + +"You don't believe my word?" + +"Why should I? You don't believe mine." + +Rand-Brown made no comment on this remark. + +"Was that what you came here for?" he asked. + +"No," said Trevor; "as a matter of fact, I came to tell you to turn out +for running and passing with the first tomorrow afternoon. You're +playing against Ripton on Saturday." + +Rand-Brown's attitude underwent a complete transformation at the news. +He became friendliness itself. + +"All right," he said. "I say, I'm sorry I said what I did about lying. +I was rather sick that you should think I wrote that rot you showed me. +I hope you don't mind." + +"Not a bit. Do you mind my searching your study?" + +For a moment Rand-Brown looked vicious. Then he sat down with a laugh. + +"Go on," he said; "I see you don't believe me. Here are the keys if you +want them." + +Trevor thanked him, and took the keys. He opened every drawer and +examined the writing-desk. The bat was in none of these places. He +looked in the cupboards. No bat there. + +"Like to take up the carpet?" inquired Rand-Brown. + +"No, thanks." + +"Search me if you like. Shall I turn out my pockets?" + +"Yes, please," said Trevor, to his surprise. He had not expected to be +taken literally. + +Rand-Brown emptied them, but the bat was not there. Trevor turned to +go. + +"You've not looked inside the legs of the chairs yet," said Rand-Brown. +"They may be hollow. There's no knowing." + +"It doesn't matter, thanks," said Trevor. "Sorry for troubling you. +Don't forget tomorrow afternoon." + +And he went, with the very unpleasant feeling that he had been badly +scored off. + + + + +XVI + +THE RIPTON MATCH + + +It was a curious thing in connection with the matches between Ripton +and Wrykyn, that Ripton always seemed to be the bigger team. They +always had a gigantic pack of forwards, who looked capable of shoving a +hole through one of the pyramids. Possibly they looked bigger to the +Wrykinians than they really were. Strangers always look big on the +football field. When you have grown accustomed to a person's +appearance, he does not look nearly so large. Milton, for instance, +never struck anybody at Wrykyn as being particularly big for a school +forward, and yet today he was the heaviest man on the field by a +quarter of a stone. But, taken in the mass, the Ripton pack were far +heavier than their rivals. There was a legend current among the lower +forms at Wrykyn that fellows were allowed to stop on at Ripton till +they were twenty-five, simply to play football. This is scarcely likely +to have been based on fact. Few lower form legends are. + +Jevons, the Ripton captain, through having played opposite Trevor for +three seasons--he was the Ripton left centre-three-quarter--had come to +be quite an intimate of his. Trevor had gone down with Milton and +Allardyce to meet the team at the station, and conduct them up to the +school. + +"How have you been getting on since Christmas?" asked Jevons. + +"Pretty well. We've lost Paget, I suppose you know?" + +"That was the fast man on the wing, wasn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, we've lost a man, too." + +"Oh, yes, that red-haired forward. I remember him." + +"It ought to make us pretty even. What's the ground like?" + +"Bit greasy, I should think. We had some rain late last night." + +The ground _was_ a bit greasy. So was the ball. When Milton kicked +off up the hill with what wind there was in his favour, the outsides of +both teams found it difficult to hold the ball. Jevons caught it on his +twenty-five line, and promptly handed it forward. The first scrum was +formed in the heart of the enemy's country. + +A deep, swelling roar from either touch-line greeted the school's +advantage. A feature of a big match was always the shouting. It rarely +ceased throughout the whole course of the game, the monotonous but +impressive sound of five hundred voices all shouting the same word. It +was worth hearing. Sometimes the evenness of the noise would change to +an excited _crescendo_ as a school three-quarter got off, or the +school back pulled up the attack with a fine piece of defence. +Sometimes the shouting would give place to clapping when the school was +being pressed and somebody had found touch with a long kick. But mostly +the man on the ropes roared steadily and without cessation, and with +the full force of his lungs, the word "_Wrykyn!_" + +The scrum was a long one. For two minutes the forwards heaved and +strained, now one side, now the other, gaining a few inches. The Wrykyn +pack were doing all they knew to heel, but their opponents' superior +weight was telling. Ripton had got the ball, and were keeping it. Their +game was to break through with it and rush. Then suddenly one of their +forwards kicked it on, and just at that moment the opposition of the +Wrykyn pack gave way, and the scrum broke up. The ball came out on the +Wrykyn side, and Allardyce whipped it out to Deacon, who was playing +half with him. + +"Ball's out," cried the Ripton half who was taking the scrum. "Break +up. It's out." + +And his colleague on the left darted across to stop Trevor, who had +taken Deacon's pass, and was running through on the right. + +Trevor ran splendidly. He was a three-quarter who took a lot of +stopping when he once got away. Jevons and the Ripton half met him +almost simultaneously, and each slackened his pace for the fraction of +a second, to allow the other to tackle. As they hesitated, Trevor +passed them. He had long ago learned that to go hard when you have once +started is the thing that pays. + +He could see that Rand-Brown was racing up for the pass, and, as he +reached the back, he sent the ball to him, waist-high. Then the back +got to him, and he came down with a thud, with a vision, seen from the +corner of his eye, of the ball bounding forward out of the wing +three-quarter's hands into touch. Rand-Brown had bungled the pass +in the old familiar way, and lost a certain try. + +The touch-judge ran up with his flag waving in the air, but the referee +had other views. + +"Knocked on inside," he said; "scrum here." + +"Here" was, Trevor saw with unspeakable disgust, some three yards from +the goal-line. Rand-Brown had only had to take the pass, and he must +have scored. + +The Ripton forwards were beginning to find their feet better now, and +they carried the scrum. A truculent-looking warrior in one of those +ear-guards which are tied on by strings underneath the chin, and which +add fifty per cent to the ferocity of a forward's appearance, broke +away with the ball at his feet, and swept down the field with the rest +of the pack at his heels. Trevor arrived too late to pull up the rush, +which had gone straight down the right touch-line, and it was not till +Strachan fell on the ball on the Wrykyn twenty-five line that the +danger ceased to threaten. + +Even now the school were in a bad way. The enemy were pressing keenly, +and a real piece of combination among their three-quarters would only +too probably end in a try. Fortunately for them, Allardyce and Deacon +were a better pair of halves than the couple they were marking. Also, +the Ripton forwards heeled slowly, and Allardyce had generally got his +man safely buried in the mud before he could pass. + +He was just getting round for the tenth time to bottle his opponent as +before, when he slipped. When the ball came out he was on all fours, +and the Ripton exponent, finding to his great satisfaction that he +had not been tackled, whipped the ball out on the left, where a wing +three-quarter hovered. + +This was the man Rand-Brown was supposed to be marking, and once again +did Barry's substitute prove of what stuff his tackling powers were +made. After his customary moment of hesitation, he had at the +Riptonian's neck. The Riptonian handed him off in a manner that +recalled the palmy days of the old Prize Ring--handing off was always +slightly vigorous in the Ripton _v._ Wrykyn match--and dashed over +the line in the extreme corner. + +There was anguish on the two touch-lines. Trevor looked savage, but +made no comment. The team lined up in silence. + +It takes a very good kick to convert a try from the touch-line. Jevons' +kick was a long one, but it fell short. Ripton led by a try to nothing. + +A few more scrums near the halfway line, and a fine attempt at a +dropped goal by the Ripton back, and it was half-time, with the score +unaltered. + +During the interval there were lemons. An excellent thing is your lemon +at half-time. It cools the mouth, quenches the thirst, stimulates the +desire to be at them again, and improves the play. + +Possibly the Wrykyn team had been happier in their choice of lemons on +this occasion, for no sooner had the game been restarted than Clowes +ran the whole length of the field, dodged through the three-quarters, +punted over the back's head, and scored a really brilliant try, of the +sort that Paget had been fond of scoring in the previous term. The man +on the touch-line brightened up wonderfully, and began to try and +calculate the probable score by the end of the game, on the assumption +that, as a try had been scored in the first two minutes, ten would be +scored in the first twenty, and so on. + +But the calculations were based on false premises. After Strachan had +failed to convert, and the game had been resumed with the score at one +try all, play settled down in the centre, and neither side could pierce +the other's defence. Once Jevons got off for Ripton, but Trevor brought +him down safely, and once Rand-Brown let his man through, as before, +but Strachan was there to meet him, and the effort came to nothing. For +Wrykyn, no one did much except tackle. The forwards were beaten by the +heavier pack, and seldom let the ball out. Allardyce intercepted a pass +when about ten minutes of play remained, and ran through to the back. +But the back, who was a capable man and in his third season in the +team, laid him low scientifically before he could reach the line. + +Altogether it looked as if the match were going to end in a draw. The +Wrykyn defence, with the exception of Rand-Brown, was too good to be +penetrated, while the Ripton forwards, by always getting the ball in +the scrums, kept them from attacking. It was about five minutes from +the end of the game when the Ripton right centre-three-quarter, in +trying to punt across to the wing, miskicked and sent the ball straight +into the hands of Trevor's colleague in the centre. Before his man +could get round to him he had slipped through, with Trevor backing him +up. The back, as a good back should, seeing two men coming at him, went +for the man with the ball. But by the time he had brought him down, the +ball was no longer where it had originally been. Trevor had got it, and +was running in between the posts. + +This time Strachan put on the extra two points without difficulty. + +Ripton played their hardest for the remaining minutes, but without +result. The game ended with Wrykyn a goal ahead--a goal and a try to a +try. For the second time in one season the Ripton match had ended in a +victory--a thing it was very rarely in the habit of doing. + + * * * * * + +The senior day-room at Seymour's rejoiced considerably that night. The +air was dark with flying cushions, and darker still, occasionally, when +the usual humorist turned the gas out. Milton was out, for he had gone +to the dinner which followed the Ripton match, and the man in command +of the house in his absence was Mill. And the senior day-room had no +respect whatever for Mill. + +Barry joined in the revels as well as his ankle would let him, but he +was not feeling happy. The disappointment of being out of the first +still weighed on him. + +At about eight, when things were beginning to grow really lively, and +the noise seemed likely to crack the window at any moment, the door was +flung open and Milton stalked in. + +"What's all this row?" he inquired. "Stop it at once." + +As a matter of fact, the row _had_ stopped--directly he came in. + +"Is Barry here?" he asked. + +"Yes," said that youth. + +"Congratulate you on your first, Barry. We've just had a meeting and +given you your colours. Trevor told me to tell you." + + + + +XVII + +THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT + + +For the next three seconds you could have heard a cannonball drop. And +that was equivalent, in the senior day-room at Seymour's, to a dead +silence. Barry stood in the middle of the room leaning on the stick on +which he supported life, now that his ankle had been injured, and +turned red and white in regular rotation, as the magnificence of the +news came home to him. + +Then the small voice of Linton was heard. + +"That'll be six d. I'll trouble you for, young Sammy," said Linton. For +he had betted an even sixpence with Master Samuel Menzies that Barry +would get his first fifteen cap this term, and Barry had got it. + +A great shout went up from every corner of the room. Barry was one of +the most popular members of the house, and every one had been sorry for +him when his sprained ankle had apparently put him out of the running +for the last cap. + +"Good old Barry," said Drummond, delightedly. Barry thanked him in a +dazed way. + +Every one crowded in to shake his hand. Barry thanked then all in a +dazed way. + +And then the senior day-room, in spite of the fact that Milton had +returned, gave itself up to celebrating the occasion with one of the +most deafening uproars that had ever been heard even in that factory of +noise. A babel of voices discussed the match of the afternoon, each +trying to outshout the other. In one corner Linton was beating wildly +on a biscuit-tin with part of a broken chair. Shoeblossom was busy in +the opposite corner executing an intricate step-dance on somebody +else's box. M'Todd had got hold of the red-hot poker, and was burning +his initials in huge letters on the seat of a chair. Every one, in +short, was enjoying himself, and it was not until an advanced hour that +comparative quiet was restored. It was a great evening for Barry, the +best he had ever experienced. + +Clowes did not learn the news till he saw it on the notice-board, on +the following Monday. When he saw it he whistled softly. + +"I see you've given Barry his first," he said to Trevor, when they met. +"Rather sensational." + +"Milton and Allardyce both thought he deserved it. If he'd been playing +instead of Rand-Brown, they wouldn't have scored at all probably, and +we should have got one more try." + +"That's all right," said Clowes. "He deserves it right enough, and I'm +jolly glad you've given it him. But things will begin to move now, +don't you think? The League ought to have a word to say about the +business. It'll be a facer for them." + +"Do you remember," asked Trevor, "saying that you thought it must be +Rand-Brown who wrote those letters?" + +"Yes. Well?" + +"Well, Milton had an idea that it was Rand-Brown who ragged his study." + +"What made him think that?" + +Trevor related the Shoeblossom incident. + +Clowes became quite excited. + +"Then Rand-Brown must be the man," he said. "Why don't you go and +tackle him? Probably he's got the bat in his study." + +"It's not in his study," said Trevor, "because I looked everywhere for +it, and got him to turn out his pockets, too. And yet I'll swear he +knows something about it. One thing struck me as a bit suspicious. I +went straight into his study and showed him that last letter--about the +bat, you know, and accused him of writing it. Now, if he hadn't been in +the business somehow, he wouldn't have understood what was meant by +their saying 'the bat you lost'. It might have been an ordinary +cricket-bat for all he knew. But he offered to let me search the study. +It didn't strike me as rum till afterwards. Then it seemed fishy. What +do you think?" + +Clowes thought so too, but admitted that he did not see of what use the +suspicion was going to be. Whether Rand-Brown knew anything about the +affair or not, it was quite certain that the bat was not with him. + +O'Hara, meanwhile, had decided that the time had come for him to resume +his detective duties. Moriarty agreed with him, and they resolved that +that night they would patronise the vault instead of the gymnasium, and +take a holiday as far as their boxing was concerned. There was plenty +of time before the Aldershot competition. + +Lock-up was still at six, so at a quarter to that hour they slipped +down into the vault, and took up their position. + +A quarter of an hour passed. The lock-up bell sounded faintly. Moriarty +began to grow tired. + +"Is it worth it?" he said, "an' wouldn't they have come before, if they +meant to come?" + +"We'll give them another quarter of an hour," said O'Hara. "After that--" + +"Sh!" whispered Moriarty. + +The door had opened. They could see a figure dimly outlined in the +semi-darkness. Footsteps passed down into the vault, and there came a +sound as if the unknown had cannoned into a chair, followed by a sharp +intake of breath, expressive of pain. A scraping sound, and a flash of +light, and part of the vault was lit by a candle. O'Hara caught a +glimpse of the unknown's face as he rose from lighting the candle, but +it was not enough to enable him to recognise him. The candle was +standing on a chair, and the light it gave was too feeble to reach the +face of any one not on a level with it. + +The unknown began to drag chairs out into the neighbourhood of the +light. O'Hara counted six. + +The sixth chair had scarcely been placed in position when the door +opened again. Six other figures appeared in the opening one after the +other, and bolted into the vault like rabbits into a burrow. The last +of them closed the door after them. + +O'Hara nudged Moriarty, and Moriarty nudged O'Hara; but neither made a +sound. They were not likely to be seen--the blackness of the vault was +too Egyptian for that--but they were so near to the chairs that the +least whisper must have been heard. Not a word had proceeded from the +occupants of the chairs so far. If O'Hara's suspicion was correct, and +this was really the League holding a meeting, their methods were more +secret than those of any other secret society in existence. Even the +Nihilists probably exchanged a few remarks from time to time, when they +met together to plot. But these men of mystery never opened their lips. +It puzzled O'Hara. + +The light of the candle was obscured for a moment, and a sound of +puffing came from the darkness. + +O'Hara nudged Moriarty again. + +"Smoking!" said the nudge. + +Moriarty nudged O'Hara. + +"Smoking it is!" was the meaning of the movement. + +A strong smell of tobacco showed that the diagnosis had been a true +one. Each of the figures in turn lit his pipe at the candle, and sat +back, still in silence. It could not have been very pleasant, smoking +in almost pitch darkness, but it was breaking rules, which was probably +the main consideration that swayed the smokers. They puffed away +steadily, till the two Irishmen were wrapped about in invisible clouds. + +Then a strange thing happened. I know that I am infringing copyright in +making that statement, but it so exactly suits the occurrence, that +perhaps Mr Rider Haggard will not object. It _was_ a strange thing +that happened. + +A rasping voice shattered the silence. + +"You boys down there," said the voice, "come here immediately. Come +here, I say." + +It was the well-known voice of Mr Robert Dexter, O'Hara and Moriarty's +beloved house-master. + +The two Irishmen simultaneously clutched one another, each afraid that +the other would think--from force of long habit--that the house-master +was speaking to him. Both stood where they were. It was the men of +mystery and tobacco that Dexter was after, they thought. + +But they were wrong. What had brought Dexter to the vault was the fact +that he had seen two boys, who looked uncommonly like O'Hara and +Moriarty, go down the steps of the vault at a quarter to six. He had +been doing his usual after-lock-up prowl on the junior gravel, to +intercept stragglers, and he had been a witness--from a distance of +fifty yards, in a very bad light--of the descent into the vault. He had +remained on the gravel ever since, in the hope of catching them as they +came up; but as they had not come up, he had determined to make the +first move himself. He had not seen the six unknowns go down, for, the +evening being chilly, he had paced up and down, and they had by a lucky +accident chosen a moment when his back was turned. + +"Come up immediately," he repeated. + +Here a blast of tobacco-smoke rushed at him from the darkness. The +candle had been extinguished at the first alarm, and he had not +realised--though he had suspected it--that smoking had been going on. + +A hurried whispering was in progress among the unknowns. Apparently +they saw that the game was up, for they picked their way towards the +door. + +As each came up the steps and passed him, Mr Dexter observed "Ha!" and +appeared to make a note of his name. The last of the six was just +leaving him after this process had been completed, when Mr Dexter +called him back. + +"That is not all," he said, suspiciously. + +"Yes, sir," said the last of the unknowns. + +Neither of the Irishmen recognised the voice. Its owner was a stranger +to them. + +"I tell you it is not," snapped Mr Dexter. "You are concealing the +truth from me. O'Hara and Moriarty are down there--two boys in my own +house. I saw them go down there." + +"They had nothing to do with us, sir. We saw nothing of them." + +"I have no doubt," said the house-master, "that you imagine that you +are doing a very chivalrous thing by trying to hide them, but you will +gain nothing by it. You may go." + +He came to the top of the steps, and it seemed as if he intended to +plunge into the darkness in search of the suspects. But, probably +realising the futility of such a course, he changed his mind, and +delivered an ultimatum from the top step. + +"O'Hara and Moriarty." + +No reply. + +"O'Hara and Moriarty, I know perfectly well that you are down there. +Come up immediately." + +Dignified silence from the vault. + +"Well, I shall wait here till you do choose to come up. You would be +well advised to do so immediately. I warn you you will not tire me +out." + +He turned, and the door slammed behind him. + +"What'll we do?" whispered Moriarty. It was at last safe to whisper. + +"Wait," said O'Hara, "I'm thinking." + +O'Hara thought. For many minutes he thought in vain. At last there came +flooding back into his mind a memory of the days of his faghood. It was +after that that he had been groping all the time. He remembered now. +Once in those days there had been an unexpected function in the middle of +term. There were needed for that function certain chairs. He could recall +even now his furious disgust when he and a select body of fellow fags had +been pounced upon by their form-master, and coerced into forming a line +from the junior block to the cloisters, for the purpose of handing +chairs. True, his form-master had stood ginger-beer after the event, with +princely liberality, but the labour was of the sort that gallons of +ginger-beer will not make pleasant. But he ceased to regret the episode +now. He had been at the extreme end of the chair-handling chain. He had +stood in a passage in the junior block, just by the door that led to the +masters' garden, and which--he remembered--was never locked till late at +night. And while he stood there, a pair of hands--apparently without a +body--had heaved up chair after chair through a black opening in the +floor. In other words, a trap-door connected with the vault in which +he now was. + +He imparted these reminiscences of childhood to Moriarty. They set off +to search for the missing door, and, after wanderings and barkings of +shins too painful to relate, they found it. Moriarty lit a match. The +light fell on the trap-door, and their last doubts were at an end. The +thing opened inwards. The bolt was on their side, not in the passage +above them. To shoot the bolt took them one second, to climb into the +passage one minute. They stood at the side of the opening, and dusted +their clothes. + +"Bedad!" said Moriarty, suddenly. + +"What?" + +"Why, how are we to shut it?" + +This was a problem that wanted some solving. Eventually they managed +it, O'Hara leaning over and fishing for it, while Moriarty held his +legs. + +As luck would have it--and luck had stood by them well all +through--there was a bolt on top of the trap-door, as well as +beneath it. + +"Supposing that had been shot!" said O'Hara, as they fastened the door +in its place. + +Moriarty did not care to suppose anything so unpleasant. + +Mr Dexter was still prowling about on the junior gravel, when the two +Irishmen ran round and across the senior gravel to the gymnasium. Here +they put in a few minutes' gentle sparring, and then marched boldly up +to Mr Day (who happened to have looked in five minutes after their +arrival) and got their paper. + +"What time did O'Hara and Moriarty arrive at the gymnasium?" asked Mr +Dexter of Mr Day next morning. + +"O'Hara and Moriarty? Really, I can't remember. I know they _left_ +at about a quarter to seven." + +That profound thinker, Mr Tony Weller, was never so correct as in his +views respecting the value of an _alibi_. There are few better +things in an emergency. + + + + +XVIII + +O'HARA EXCELS HIMSELF + + +It was Renford's turn next morning to get up and feed the ferrets. +Harvey had done it the day before. + +Renford was not a youth who enjoyed early rising, but in the cause of +the ferrets he would have endured anything, so at six punctually he +slid out of bed, dressed quietly, so as not to disturb the rest of the +dormitory, and ran over to the vault. To his utter amazement he found +it locked. Such a thing had never been done before in the whole course +of his experience. He tugged at the handle, but not an inch or a +fraction of an inch would the door yield. The policy of the Open Door +had ceased to find favour in the eyes of the authorities. + +A feeling of blank despair seized upon him. He thought of the dismay of +the ferrets when they woke up and realised that there was no chance of +breakfast for them. And then they would gradually waste away, and some +day somebody would go down to the vault to fetch chairs, and would come +upon two mouldering skeletons, and wonder what they had once been. He +almost wept at the vision so conjured up. + +There was nobody about. Perhaps he might break in somehow. But then +there was nothing to get to work with. He could not kick the door down. +No, he must give it up, and the ferrets' breakfast-hour must be +postponed. Possibly Harvey might be able to think of something. + +"Fed 'em?" inquired Harvey, when they met at breakfast. + +"No, I couldn't." + +"Why on earth not? You didn't oversleep yourself?" + +Renford poured his tale into his friend's shocked ears. + +"My hat!" said Harvey, when he had finished, "what on earth are we to +do? They'll starve." + +Renford nodded mournfully. + +"Whatever made them go and lock the door?" he said. + +He seemed to think the authorities should have given him due notice of +such an action. + +"You're sure they have locked it? It isn't only stuck or something?" + +"I lugged at the handle for hours. But you can go and see for yourself +if you like." + +Harvey went, and, waiting till the coast was clear, attached himself to +the handle with a prehensile grasp, and put his back into one strenuous +tug. It was even as Renford had said. The door was locked beyond +possibility of doubt. + +Renford and he went over to school that morning with long faces and a +general air of acute depression. It was perhaps fortunate for their +purpose that they did, for had their appearance been normal it might +not have attracted O'Hara's attention. As it was, the Irishman, meeting +them on the junior gravel, stopped and asked them what was wrong. Since +the adventure in the vault, he had felt an interest in Renford and +Harvey. + +The two told their story in alternate sentences like the Strophe and +Antistrophe of a Greek chorus. ("Steichomuthics," your Greek scholar +calls it, I fancy. Ha, yes! Just so.) + +"So ye can't get in because they've locked the door, an' ye don't know +what to do about it?" said O'Hara, at the conclusion of the narrative. + +Renford and Harvey informed him in chorus that that _was_ the +state of the game up to present date. + +"An' ye want me to get them out for you?" + +Neither had dared to hope that he would go so far as this. What they +had looked for had been at the most a few thoughtful words of advice. +That such a master-strategist as O'Hara should take up their cause was +an unexampled piece of good luck. + +"If you only would," said Harvey. + +"We should be most awfully obliged," said Renford. + +"Very well," said O'Hara. + +They thanked him profusely. + +O'Hara replied that it would be a privilege. + +He should be sorry, he said, to have anything happen to the ferrets. + +Renford and Harvey went on into school feeling more cheerful. If the +ferrets could be extracted from their present tight corner, O'Hara was +the man to do it. + +O'Hara had not made his offer of assistance in any spirit of doubt. He +was certain that he could do what he had promised. For it had not +escaped his memory that this was a Tuesday--in other words, a +mathematics morning up to the quarter to eleven interval. That meant, +as has been explained previously, that, while the rest of the school +were in the form-rooms, he would be out in the passage, if he cared to +be. There would be no witnesses to what he was going to do. + +But, by that curious perversity of fate which is so often noticeable, +Mr Banks was in a peculiarly lamb-like and long-suffering mood this +morning. Actions for which O'Hara would on other days have been +expelled from the room without hope of return, today were greeted with +a mild "Don't do that, please, O'Hara," or even the ridiculously +inadequate "O'Hara!" It was perfectly disheartening. O'Hara began to +ask himself bitterly what was the use of ragging at all if this was how +it was received. And the moments were flying, and his promise to +Renford and Harvey still remained unfulfilled. + +He prepared for fresh efforts. + +So desperate was he, that he even resorted to crude methods like the +throwing of paper balls and the dropping of books. And when your really +scientific ragger sinks to this, he is nearing the end of his tether. +O'Hara hated to be rude, but there seemed no help for it. + +The striking of a quarter past ten improved his chances. It had been +privily agreed upon beforehand amongst the members of the class that at +a quarter past ten every one was to sneeze simultaneously. The noise +startled Mr Banks considerably. The angelic mood began to wear off. A +man may be long-suffering, but he likes to draw the line somewhere. + +"Another exhibition like that," he said, sharply, "and the class stays +in after school, O'Hara!" + +"Sir?" + +"Silence." + +"I said nothing, sir, really." + +"Boy, you made a cat-like noise with your mouth." + +"What _sort_ of noise, sir?" + +The form waited breathlessly. This peculiarly insidious question had +been invented for mathematical use by one Sandys, who had left at the +end of the previous summer. It was but rarely that the master increased +the gaiety of nations by answering the question in the manner desired. + +Mr Banks, off his guard, fell into the trap. + +"A noise like this," he said curtly, and to the delighted audience came +the melodious sound of a "Mi-aou", which put O'Hara's effort completely +in the shade, and would have challenged comparison with the war-cry of +the stoutest mouser that ever trod a tile. + +A storm of imitations arose from all parts of the room. Mr Banks turned +pink, and, going straight to the root of the disturbance, forthwith +evicted O'Hara. + +O'Hara left with the satisfying feeling that his duty had been done. + +Mr Banks' room was at the top of the middle block. He ran softly down +the stairs at his best pace. It was not likely that the master would +come out into the passage to see if he was still there, but it might +happen, and it would be best to run as few risks as possible. + +He sprinted over to the junior block, raised the trap-door, and jumped +down. He knew where the ferrets had been placed, and had no difficulty +in finding them. In another minute he was in the passage again, with +the trap-door bolted behind him. + +He now asked himself--what should he do with them? He must find a safe +place, or his labours would have been in vain. + +Behind the fives-court, he thought, would be the spot. Nobody ever went +there. It meant a run of three hundred yards there and the same +distance back, and there was more than a chance that he might be seen +by one of the Powers. In which case he might find it rather hard to +explain what he was doing in the middle of the grounds with a couple of +ferrets in his possession when the hands of the clock pointed to twenty +minutes to eleven. + +But the odds were against his being seen. He risked it. + +When the bell rang for the quarter to eleven interval the ferrets were +in their new home, happily discussing a piece of meat--Renford's +contribution, held over from the morning's meal,--and O'Hara, looking +as if he had never left the passage for an instant, was making his way +through the departing mathematical class to apologise handsomely to Mr +Banks--as was his invariable custom--for his disgraceful behaviour +during the morning's lesson. + + + + +XIX + +THE MAYOR'S VISIT + + +School prefects at Wrykyn did weekly essays for the headmaster. Those +who had got their scholarships at the 'Varsity, or who were going up in +the following year, used to take their essays to him after school and +read them to him--an unpopular and nerve-destroying practice, akin to +suicide. Trevor had got his scholarship in the previous November. He +was due at the headmaster's private house at six o'clock on the present +Tuesday. He was looking forward to the ordeal not without apprehension. +The essay subject this week had been "One man's meat is another man's +poison", and Clowes, whose idea of English Essay was that it should be +a medium for intempestive frivolity, had insisted on his beginning +with, "While I cannot conscientiously go so far as to say that one +man's meat is another man's poison, yet I am certainly of opinion that +what is highly beneficial to one man may, on the other hand, to another +man, differently constituted, be extremely deleterious, and, indeed, +absolutely fatal." + +Trevor was not at all sure how the headmaster would take it. But Clowes +had seemed so cut up at his suggestion that it had better be omitted, +that he had allowed it to stand. + +He was putting the final polish on this gem of English literature at +half-past five, when Milton came in. + +"Busy?" said Milton. + +Trevor said he would be through in a minute. + +Milton took a chair, and waited. + +Trevor scratched out two words and substituted two others, made a +couple of picturesque blots, and, laying down his pen, announced that +he had finished. + +"What's up?" he said. + +"It's about the League," said Milton. + +"Found out anything?" + +"Not anything much. But I've been making inquiries. You remember I +asked you to let me look at those letters of yours?" + +Trevor nodded. This had happened on the Sunday of that week. + +"Well, I wanted to look at the post-marks." + +"By Jove, I never thought of that." + +Milton continued with the business-like air of the detective who +explains in the last chapter of the book how he did it. + +"I found, as I thought, that both letters came from the same place." + +Trevor pulled out the letters in question. "So they do," he said, +"Chesterton." + +"Do you know Chesterton?" asked Milton. + +"Only by name." + +"It's a small hamlet about two miles from here across the downs. +There's only one shop in the place, which acts as post-office and +tobacconist and everything else. I thought that if I went there and +asked about those letters, they might remember who it was that sent +them, if I showed them a photograph." + +"By Jove," said Trevor, "of course! Did you? What happened?" + +"I went there yesterday afternoon. I took about half-a-dozen +photographs of various chaps, including Rand-Brown." + +"But wait a bit. If Chesterton's two miles off, Rand-Brown couldn't +have sent the letters. He wouldn't have the time after school. He was +on the grounds both the afternoons before I got the letters." + +"I know," said Milton; "I didn't think of that at the time." + +"Well?" + +"One of the points about the Chesterton post-office is that there's no +letter-box outside. You have to go into the shop and hand anything you +want to post across the counter. I thought this was a tremendous score +for me. I thought they would be bound to remember who handed in the +letters. There can't be many at a place like that." + +"Did they remember?" + +"They remembered the letters being given in distinctly, but as for +knowing anything beyond that, they were simply futile. There was an +old woman in the shop, aged about three hundred and ten, I should +think. I shouldn't say she had ever been very intelligent, but now +she simply gibbered. I started off by laying out a shilling on some +poisonous-looking sweets. I gave the lot to a village kid when I got +out. I hope they didn't kill him. Then, having scattered ground-bait +in that way, I lugged out the photographs, mentioned the letters and +the date they had been sent, and asked her to weigh in and identify +the sender." + +"Did she?" + +"My dear chap, she identified them all, one after the other. The first +was one of Clowes. She was prepared to swear on oath that that was the +chap who had sent the letters. Then I shot a photograph of you across +the counter, and doubts began to creep in. She said she was certain it +was one of those two 'la-ads', but couldn't quite say which. To keep +her amused I fired in photograph number three--Allardyce's. She +identified that, too. At the end of ten minutes she was pretty sure +that it was one of the six--the other three were Paget, Clephane, and +Rand-Brown--but she was not going to bind herself down to any +particular one. As I had come to the end of my stock of photographs, +and was getting a bit sick of the game, I got up to go, when in came +another ornament of Chesterton from a room at the back of the shop. He +was quite a kid, not more than a hundred and fifty at the outside, so, +as a last chance, I tackled him on the subject. He looked at the +photographs for about half an hour, mumbling something about it not +being 'thiccy 'un' or 'that 'un', or 'that 'ere tother 'un', until I +began to feel I'd had enough of it. Then it came out that the real chap +who had sent the letters was a 'la-ad' with light hair, not so big as +me--" + +"That doesn't help us much," said Trevor. + +"--And a 'prarper little gennlemun'. So all we've got to do is to look +for some young duke of polished manners and exterior, with a thatch of +light hair." + +"There are three hundred and sixty-seven fellows with light hair in the +school," said Trevor, calmly. + +"Thought it was three hundred and sixty-eight myself," said Milton, +"but I may be wrong. Anyhow, there you have the results of my +investigations. If you can make anything out of them, you're welcome to +it. Good-bye." + +"Half a second," said Trevor, as he got up; "had the fellow a cap of +any sort?" + +"No. Bareheaded. You wouldn't expect him to give himself away by +wearing a house-cap?" + +Trevor went over to the headmaster's revolving this discovery in his +mind. It was not much of a clue, but the smallest clue is better than +nothing. To find out that the sender of the League letters had fair hair +narrowed the search down a little. It cleared the more raven-locked +members of the school, at any rate. Besides, by combining his information +with Milton's, the search might be still further narrowed down. He knew +that the polite letter-writer must be either in Seymour's or in +Donaldson's. The number of fair-haired youths in the two houses was +not excessive. Indeed, at the moment he could not recall any; which +rather complicated matters. + +He arrived at the headmaster's door, and knocked. He was shown into a +room at the side of the hall, near the door. The butler informed him +that the headmaster was engaged at present. Trevor, who knew the butler +slightly through having constantly been to see the headmaster on +business _via_ the front door, asked who was there. + +"Sir Eustace Briggs," said the butler, and disappeared in the direction +of his lair beyond the green baize partition at the end of the hall. + +Trevor went into the room, which was a sort of spare study, and sat +down, wondering what had brought the mayor of Wrykyn to see the +headmaster at this advanced hour. + +A quarter of an hour later the sound of voices broke in upon his peace. +The headmaster was coming down the hall with the intention of showing +his visitor out. The door of Trevor's room was ajar, and he could hear +distinctly what was being said. He had no particular desire to play the +eavesdropper, but the part was forced upon him. + +Sir Eustace seemed excited. + +"It is far from being my habit," he was saying, "to make unnecessary +complaints respecting the conduct of the lads under your care." (Sir +Eustace Briggs had a distaste for the shorter and more colloquial forms +of speech. He would have perished sooner than have substituted +"complain of your boys" for the majestic formula he had used. He spoke +as if he enjoyed choosing his words. He seemed to pause and think +before each word. Unkind people--who were jealous of his distinguished +career--used to say that he did this because he was afraid of dropping +an aitch if he relaxed his vigilance.) + +"But," continued he, "I am reluctantly forced to the unpleasant +conclusion that the dastardly outrage to which both I and the Press of +the town have called your attention is to be attributed to one of the +lads to whom I 'ave--_have_ (this with a jerk) referred." + +"I will make a thorough inquiry, Sir Eustace," said the bass voice of +the headmaster. + +"I thank you," said the mayor. "It would, under the circumstances, be +nothing more, I think, than what is distinctly advisable. The man +Samuel Wapshott, of whose narrative I have recently afforded you a +brief synopsis, stated in no uncertain terms that he found at the foot +of the statue on which the dastardly outrage was perpetrated a +diminutive ornament, in shape like the bats that are used in the game +of cricket. This ornament, he avers (with what truth I know not), was +handed by him to a youth of an age coeval with that of the lads in the +upper division of this school. The youth claimed it as his property, I +was given to understand." + +"A thorough inquiry shall be made, Sir Eustace." + +"I thank you." + +And then the door shut, and the conversation ceased. + + + + +XX + +THE FINDING OF THE BAT + + +Trevor waited till the headmaster had gone back to his library, gave +him five minutes to settle down, and then went in. + +The headmaster looked up inquiringly. + +"My essay, sir," said Trevor. + +"Ah, yes. I had forgotten." + +Trevor opened the notebook and began to read what he had written. He +finished the paragraph which owed its insertion to Clowes, and raced +hurriedly on to the next. To his surprise the flippancy passed +unnoticed, at any rate, verbally. As a rule the headmaster preferred +that quotations from back numbers of _Punch_ should be kept out of +the prefects' English Essays. And he generally said as much. But today +he seemed strangely preoccupied. A split infinitive in paragraph five, +which at other times would have made him sit up in his chair stiff with +horror, elicited no remark. The same immunity was accorded to the +insertion (inspired by Clowes, as usual) of a popular catch phrase in +the last few lines. Trevor finished with the feeling that luck had +favoured him nobly. + +"Yes," said the headmaster, seemingly roused by the silence following +on the conclusion of the essay. "Yes." Then, after a long pause, "Yes," +again. + +Trevor said nothing, but waited for further comment. + +"Yes," said the headmaster once more, "I think that is a very +fair essay. Very fair. It wants a little more--er--not quite so +much--um--yes." + +Trevor made a note in his mind to effect these improvements in future +essays, and was getting up, when the headmaster stopped him. + +"Don't go, Trevor. I wish to speak to you." + +Trevor's first thought was, perhaps naturally, that the bat was going to +be brought into discussion. He was wondering helplessly how he was going +to keep O'Hara and his midnight exploit out of the conversation, when +the headmaster resumed. "An unpleasant thing has happened, Trevor--" + +"Now we're coming to it," thought Trevor. + +"It appears, Trevor, that a considerable amount of smoking has been +going on in the school." + +Trevor breathed freely once more. It was only going to be a mere +conventional smoking row after all. He listened with more enjoyment +as the headmaster, having stopped to turn down the wick of the +reading-lamp which stood on the table at his side, and which had +begun, appropriately enough, to smoke, resumed his discourse. + +"Mr Dexter--" + +Of course, thought Trevor. If there ever was a row in the school, +Dexter was bound to be at the bottom of it. + +"Mr Dexter has just been in to see me. He reported six boys. He +discovered them in the vault beneath the junior block. Two of them were +boys in your house." + +Trevor murmured something wordless, to show that the story interested +him. + +"You knew nothing of this, of course--" + +"No, sir." + +"No. Of course not. It is difficult for the head of a house to know all +that goes on in that house." + +Was this his beastly sarcasm? Trevor asked himself. But he came to the +conclusion that it was not. After all, the head of a house is only +human. He cannot be expected to keep an eye on the private life of +every member of his house. + +"This must be stopped, Trevor. There is no saying how widespread the +practice has become or may become. What I want you to do is to go +straight back to your house and begin a complete search of the +studies." + +"Tonight, sir?" It seemed too late for such amusement. + +"Tonight. But before you go to your house, call at Mr Seymour's, and +tell Milton I should like to see him. And, Trevor." + +"Yes, sir?" + +"You will understand that I am leaving this matter to you to be dealt +with by you. I shall not require you to make any report to me. But if +you should find tobacco in any boy's room, you must punish him well, +Trevor. Punish him well." + +This meant that the culprit must be "touched up" before the house +assembled in the dining-room. Such an event did not often occur. The +last occasion had been in Paget's first term as head of Donaldson's, +when two of the senior day-room had been discovered attempting to +revive the ancient and dishonourable custom of bullying. This time, +Trevor foresaw, would set up a record in all probability. There might +be any number of devotees of the weed, and he meant to carry out his +instructions to the full, and make the criminals more unhappy than they +had been since the day of their first cigar. Trevor hated the habit of +smoking at school. He was so intensely keen on the success of the house +and the school at games, that anything which tended to damage the wind +and eye filled him with loathing. That anybody should dare to smoke in +a house which was going to play in the final for the House Football Cup +made him rage internally, and he proposed to make things bad and +unrestful for such. + +To smoke at school is to insult the divine weed. When you are obliged +to smoke in odd corners, fearing every moment that you will be +discovered, the whole meaning, poetry, romance of a pipe vanishes, and +you become like those lost beings who smoke when they are running to +catch trains. The boy who smokes at school is bound to come to a bad +end. He will degenerate gradually into a person that plays dominoes in +the smoking-rooms of A.B.C. shops with friends who wear bowler hats and +frock coats. + +Much of this philosophy Trevor expounded to Clowes in energetic +language when he returned to Donaldson's after calling at Seymour's to +deliver the message for Milton. + +Clowes became quite animated at the prospect of a real row. + +"We shall be able to see the skeletons in their cupboards," he +observed. "Every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, which follows him +about wherever he goes. Which study shall we go to first?" + +"We?" said Trevor. + +"We," repeated Clowes firmly. "I am not going to be left out of this +jaunt. I need bracing up--I'm not strong, you know--and this is just +the thing to do it. Besides, you'll want a bodyguard of some sort, in +case the infuriated occupant turns and rends you." + +"I don't see what there is to enjoy in the business," said Trevor, +gloomily. "Personally, I bar this kind of thing. By the time we've +finished, there won't be a chap in the house I'm on speaking terms +with." + +"Except me, dearest," said Clowes. "I will never desert you. It's of no +use asking me, for I will never do it. Mr Micawber has his faults, but +I will _never_ desert Mr Micawber." + +"You can come if you like," said Trevor; "we'll take the studies in +order. I suppose we needn't look up the prefects?" + +"A prefect is above suspicion. Scratch the prefects." + +"That brings us to Dixon." + +Dixon was a stout youth with spectacles, who was popularly supposed to +do twenty-two hours' work a day. It was believed that he put in two +hours sleep from eleven to one, and then got up and worked in his study +till breakfast. + +He was working when Clowes and Trevor came in. He dived head foremost +into a huge Liddell and Scott as the door opened. On hearing Trevor's +voice he slowly emerged, and a pair of round and spectacled eyes gazed +blankly at the visitors. Trevor briefly explained his errand, but the +interview lost in solemnity owing to the fact that the bare notion of +Dixon storing tobacco in his room made Clowes roar with laughter. Also, +Dixon stolidly refused to understand what Trevor was talking about, and +at the end of ten minutes, finding it hopeless to try and explain, the +two went. Dixon, with a hazy impression that he had been asked to join +in some sort of round game, and had refused the offer, returned again +to his Liddell and Scott, and continued to wrestle with the somewhat +obscure utterances of the chorus in AEschylus' _Agamemnon_. The +results of this fiasco on Trevor and Clowes were widely different. +Trevor it depressed horribly. It made him feel savage. Clowes, on the +other hand, regarded the whole affair in a spirit of rollicking farce, +and refused to see that this was a serious matter, in which the honour +of the house was involved. + +The next study was Ruthven's. This fact somewhat toned down the +exuberances of Clowes's demeanour. When one particularly dislikes a +person, one has a curious objection to seeming in good spirits in his +presence. One feels that he may take it as a sort of compliment to +himself, or, at any rate, contribute grins of his own, which would be +hateful. Clowes was as grave as Trevor when they entered the study. + +Ruthven's study was like himself, overdressed and rather futile. It ran +to little china ornaments in a good deal of profusion. It was more like +a drawing-room than a school study. + +"Sorry to disturb you, Ruthven," said Trevor. + +"Oh, come in," said Ruthven, in a tired voice. "Please shut the door; +there is a draught. Do you want anything?" + +"We've got to have a look round," said Clowes. + +"Can't you see everything there is?" + +Ruthven hated Clowes as much as Clowes hated him. + +Trevor cut into the conversation again. + +"It's like this, Ruthven," he said. "I'm awfully sorry, but the Old +Man's just told me to search the studies in case any of the fellows +have got baccy." + +Ruthven jumped up, pale with consternation. + +"You can't. I won't have you disturbing my study." + +"This is rot," said Trevor, shortly, "I've got to. It's no good making +it more unpleasant for me than it is." + +"But I've no tobacco. I swear I haven't." + +"Then why mind us searching?" said Clowes affably. + +"Come on, Ruthven," said Trevor, "chuck us over the keys. You might as +well." + +"I won't." + +"Don't be an ass, man." + +"We have here," observed Clowes, in his sad, solemn way, "a stout and +serviceable poker." He stooped, as he spoke, to pick it up. + +"Leave that poker alone," cried Ruthven. + +Clowes straightened himself. + +"I'll swop it for your keys," he said. + +"Don't be a fool." + +"Very well, then. We will now crack our first crib." + +Ruthven sprang forward, but Clowes, handing him off in football fashion +with his left hand, with his right dashed the poker against the lock of +the drawer of the table by which he stood. + +The lock broke with a sharp crack. It was not built with an eye to such +onslaught. + +"Neat for a first shot," said Clowes, complacently. "Now for the +Umustaphas and shag." + +But as he looked into the drawer he uttered a sudden cry of excitement. +He drew something out, and tossed it over to Trevor. + +"Catch, Trevor," he said quietly. "Something that'll interest you." + +Trevor caught it neatly in one hand, and stood staring at it as if he +had never seen anything like it before. And yet he had--often. For what +he had caught was a little golden bat, about an inch long by an eighth +of an inch wide. + + + + +XXI + +THE LEAGUE REVEALED + + +"What do you think of that?" said Clowes. + +Trevor said nothing. He could not quite grasp the situation. It was +not only that he had got the idea so firmly into his head that it +was Rand-Brown who had sent the letters and appropriated the bat. +Even supposing he had not suspected Rand-Brown, he would never have +dreamed of suspecting Ruthven. They had been friends. Not very close +friends--Trevor's keenness for games and Ruthven's dislike of them +prevented that--but a good deal more than acquaintances. He was so +constituted that he could not grasp the frame of mind required for +such an action as Ruthven's. It was something absolutely abnormal. + +Clowes was equally surprised, but for a different reason. It was not so +much the enormity of Ruthven's proceedings that took him aback. He +believed him, with that cheerful intolerance which a certain type of +mind affects, capable of anything. What surprised him was the fact that +Ruthven had had the ingenuity and even the daring to conduct a campaign +of this description. Cribbing in examinations he would have thought the +limit of his crimes. Something backboneless and underhand of that kind +would not have surprised him in the least. He would have said that it +was just about what he had expected all along. But that Ruthven should +blossom out suddenly as quite an ingenious and capable criminal in this +way, was a complete surprise. + +"Well, perhaps _you_'ll make a remark?" he said, turning to +Ruthven. + +Ruthven, looking very much like a passenger on a Channel steamer who +has just discovered that the motion of the vessel is affecting him +unpleasantly, had fallen into a chair when Clowes handed him off. He +sat there with a look on his pasty face which was not good to see, as +silent as Trevor. It seemed that whatever conversation there was going +to be would have to take the form of a soliloquy from Clowes. + +Clowes took a seat on the corner of the table. + +"It seems to me, Ruthven," he said, "that you'd better say +_something_. At present there's a lot that wants explaining. As +this bat has been found lying in your drawer, I suppose we may take it +that you're the impolite letter-writer?" + +Ruthven found his voice at last. + +"I'm not," he cried; "I never wrote a line." + +"Now we're getting at it," said Clowes. "I thought you couldn't have +had it in you to carry this business through on your own. Apparently +you've only been the sleeping partner in this show, though I suppose it +was you who ragged Trevor's study? Not much sleeping about that. You +took over the acting branch of the concern for that day only, I expect. +Was it you who ragged the study?" + +Ruthven stared into the fire, but said nothing. + +"Must be polite, you know, Ruthven, and answer when you're spoken to. +Was it you who ragged Trevor's study?" + +"Yes," said Ruthven. + +"Thought so." + +"Why, of course, I met you just outside," said Trevor, speaking for the +first time. "You were the chap who told me what had happened." + +Ruthven said nothing. + +"The ragging of the study seems to have been all the active work he +did," remarked Clowes. + +"No," said Trevor, "he posted the letters, whether he wrote them or +not. Milton was telling me--you remember? I told you. No, I didn't. +Milton found out that the letters were posted by a small, light-haired +fellow." + +"That's him," said Clowes, as regardless of grammar as the monks of +Rheims, pointing with the poker at Ruthven's immaculate locks. "Well, +you ragged the study and posted the letters. That was all your share. +Am I right in thinking Rand-Brown was the other partner?" + +Silence from Ruthven. + +"Am I?" persisted Clowes. + +"You may think what you like. I don't care." + +"Now we're getting rude again," complained Clowes. "_Was_ Rand-Brown +in this?" + +"Yes," said Ruthven. + +"Thought so. And who else?" + +"No one." + +"Try again." + +"I tell you there was no one else. Can't you believe a word a chap +says?" + +"A word here and there, perhaps," said Clowes, as one making a +concession, "but not many, and this isn't one of them. Have another +shot." + +Ruthven relapsed into silence. + +"All right, then," said Clowes, "we'll accept that statement. There's +just a chance that it may be true. And that's about all, I think. This +isn't my affair at all, really. It's yours, Trevor. I'm only a +spectator and camp-follower. It's your business. You'll find me in my +study." And putting the poker carefully in its place, Clowes left the +room. He went into his study, and tried to begin some work. But the +beauties of the second book of Thucydides failed to appeal to him. His +mind was elsewhere. He felt too excited with what had just happened to +translate Greek. He pulled up a chair in front of the fire, and gave +himself up to speculating how Trevor was getting on in the neighbouring +study. He was glad he had left him to finish the business. If he had +been in Trevor's place, there was nothing he would so greatly have +disliked as to have some one--however familiar a friend--interfering in +his wars and settling them for him. Left to himself, Clowes would +probably have ended the interview by kicking Ruthven into the nearest +approach to pulp compatible with the laws relating to manslaughter. He +had an uneasy suspicion that Trevor would let him down far too easily. + +The handle turned. Trevor came in, and pulled up another chair in +silence. His face wore a look of disgust. But there were no signs of +combat upon him. The toe of his boot was not worn and battered, as +Clowes would have liked to have seen it. Evidently he had not chosen to +adopt active and physical measures for the improvement of Ruthven's +moral well-being. + +"Well?" said Clowes. + +"My word, what a hound!" breathed Trevor, half to himself. + +"My sentiments to a hair," said Clowes, approvingly. "But what have you +done?" + +"I didn't do anything." + +"I was afraid you wouldn't. Did he give any explanation? What made him +go in for the thing at all? What earthly motive could he have for not +wanting Barry to get his colours, bar the fact that Rand-Brown didn't +want him to? And why should he do what Rand-Brown told him? I never even +knew they were pals, before today." + +"He told me a good deal," said Trevor. "It's one of the beastliest +things I ever heard. They neither of them come particularly well out of +the business, but Rand-Brown comes worse out of it even than Ruthven. +My word, that man wants killing." + +"That'll keep," said Clowes, nodding. "What's the yarn?" + +"Do you remember about a year ago a chap named Patterson getting +sacked?" + +Clowes nodded again. He remembered the case well. Patterson had had +gambling transactions with a Wrykyn tradesman, had been found out, and +had gone. + +"You remember what a surprise it was to everybody. It wasn't one of +those cases where half the school suspects what's going on. Those cases +always come out sooner or later. But Patterson nobody knew about." + +"Yes. Well?" + +"Nobody," said Trevor, "except Ruthven, that is. Ruthven got to know +somehow. I believe he was a bit of a pal of Patterson's at the time. +Anyhow,--they had a row, and Ruthven went to Dexter--Patterson was in +Dexter's--and sneaked. Dexter promised to keep his name out of the +business, and went straight to the Old Man, and Patterson got turfed +out on the spot. Then somehow or other Rand-Brown got to know about +it--I believe Ruthven must have told him by accident some time or other. +After that he simply had to do everything Rand-Brown wanted him to. +Otherwise he said that he would tell the chaps about the Patterson +affair. That put Ruthven in a dead funk." + +"Of course," said Clowes; "I should imagine friend Ruthven would have +got rather a bad time of it. But what made them think of starting the +League? It was a jolly smart idea. Rand-Brown's, of course?" + +"Yes. I suppose he'd heard about it, and thought something might be +made out of it if it were revived." + +"And were Ruthven and he the only two in it?" + +"Ruthven swears they were, and I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't telling +the truth, for once in his life. You see, everything the League's done +so far could have been done by him and Rand-Brown, without anybody +else's help. The only other studies that were ragged were Mill's and +Milton's--both in Seymour's. + +"Yes," said Clowes. + +There was a pause. Clowes put another shovelful of coal on the fire. + +"What are you going to do to Ruthven?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing? Hang it, he doesn't deserve to get off like that. He isn't as +bad as Rand-Brown--quite--but he's pretty nearly as finished a little +beast as you could find." + +"Finished is just the word," said Trevor. "He's going at the end of the +week." + +"Going? What! sacked?" + +"Yes. The Old Man's been finding out things about him, apparently, and +this smoking row has just added the finishing-touch to his discoveries. +He's particularly keen against smoking just now for some reason." + +"But was Ruthven in it?" + +"Yes. Didn't I tell you? He was one of the fellows Dexter caught in the +vault. There were two in this house, you remember?" + +"Who was the other?" + +"That man Dashwood. Has the study next to Paget's old one. He's going, +too." + +"Scarcely knew him. What sort of a chap was he?" + +"Outsider. No good to the house in any way. He won't be missed." + +"And what are you going to do about Rand-Brown?" + +"Fight him, of course. What else could I do?" + +"But you're no match for him." + +"We'll see." + +"But you _aren't_," persisted Clowes. "He can give you a stone +easily, and he's not a bad boxer either. Moriarty didn't beat him so +very cheaply in the middle-weight this year. You wouldn't have a +chance." + +Trevor flared up. + +"Heavens, man," he cried, "do you think I don't know all that myself? +But what on earth would you have me do? Besides, he may be a good +boxer, but he's got no pluck at all. I might outstay him." + +"Hope so," said Clowes. + +But his tone was not hopeful. + + + + +XXII + +A DRESS REHEARSAL + + +Some people in Trevor's place might have taken the earliest opportunity +of confronting Rand-Brown, so as to settle the matter in hand without +delay. Trevor thought of doing this, but finally decided to let the +matter rest for a day, until he should have found out with some +accuracy what chance he stood. + +After four o'clock, therefore, on the next day, having had tea in his +study, he went across to the baths, in search of O'Hara. He intended +that before the evening was over the Irishman should have imparted to +him some of his skill with the hands. He did not know that for a man +absolutely unscientific with his fists there is nothing so fatal as to +take a boxing lesson on the eve of battle. A little knowledge is a +dangerous thing. He is apt to lose his recklessness--which might have +stood by him well--in exchange for a little quite useless science. He +is neither one thing nor the other, neither a natural fighter nor a +skilful boxer. + +This point O'Hara endeavoured to press upon him as soon as he had +explained why it was that he wanted coaching on this particular +afternoon. + +The Irishman was in the gymnasium, punching the ball, when Trevor found +him. He generally put in a quarter of an hour with the punching-ball +every evening, before Moriarty turned up for the customary six rounds. + +"Want me to teach ye a few tricks?" he said. "What's that for?" + +"I've got a mill coming on soon," explained Trevor, trying to make the +statement as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a +school prefect, who was also captain of football, head of a house, and +in the cricket eleven, to be engaged for a fight in the near future. + +"Mill!" exclaimed O'Hara. "You! An' why?" + +"Never mind why," said Trevor. "I'll tell you afterwards, perhaps. +Shall I put on the gloves now?" + +"Wait," said O'Hara, "I must do my quarter of an hour with the ball +before I begin teaching other people how to box. Have ye a watch?" + +"Yes." + +"Then time me. I'll do four rounds of three minutes each, with a +minute's rest in between. That's more than I'll do at Aldershot, but +it'll get me fit. Ready?" + +"Time," said Trevor. + +He watched O'Hara assailing the swinging ball with considerable envy. +Why, he wondered, had he not gone in for boxing? Everybody ought to +learn to box. It was bound to come in useful some time or other. Take +his own case. He was very much afraid--no, afraid was not the right +word, for he was not that. He was very much of opinion that Rand-Brown +was going to have a most enjoyable time when they met. And the final +house-match was to be played next Monday. If events turned out as he +could not help feeling they were likely to turn out, he would be too +battered to play in that match. Donaldson's would probably win whether +he played or not, but it would be bitter to be laid up on such an +occasion. On the other hand, he must go through with it. He did not +believe in letting other people take a hand in settling his private +quarrels. + +But he wished he had learned to box. If only he could hit that dancing, +jumping ball with a fifth of the skill that O'Hara was displaying, his +wiriness and pluck might see him through. O'Hara finished his fourth +round with his leathern opponent, and sat down, panting. + +"Pretty useful, that," commented Trevor, admiringly. + +"Ye should see Moriarty," gasped O'Hara. + +"Now, will ye tell me why it is you're going to fight, and with whom +you're going to fight?" + +"Very well. It's with Rand-Brown." + +"Rand-Brown!" exclaimed O'Hara. "But, me dearr man, he'll ate you." + +Trevor gave a rather annoyed laugh. "I must say I've got a nice, +cheery, comforting lot of friends," he said. "That's just what Clowes +has been trying to explain to me." + +"Clowes is quite right," said O'Hara, seriously. "Has the thing gone +too far for ye to back out? Without climbing down, of course," he +added. + +"Yes," said Trevor, "there's no question of my getting out of it. I +daresay I could. In fact, I know I could. But I'm not going to." + +"But, me dearr man, ye haven't an earthly chance. I assure ye ye +haven't. I've seen Rand-Brown with the gloves on. That was last term. +He's not put them on since Moriarty bate him in the middles, so he may +be out of practice. But even then he'd be a bad man to tackle. He's big +an' he's strong, an' if he'd only had the heart in him he'd have been +going up to Aldershot instead of Moriarty. That's what he'd be doing. +An' you can't box at all. Never even had the gloves on." + +"Never. I used to scrap when I was a kid, though." + +"That's no use," said O'Hara, decidedly. "But you haven't said what it +is that ye've got against Rand-Brown. What is it?" + +"I don't see why I shouldn't tell you. You're in it as well. In fact, +if it hadn't been for the bat turning up, you'd have been considerably +more in it than I am." + +"What!" cried O'Hara. "Where did you find it? Was it in the grounds? +When was it you found it?" + +Whereupon Trevor gave him a very full and exact account of what had +happened. He showed him the two letters from the League, touched on +Milton's connection with the affair, traced the gradual development of +his suspicions, and described with some approach to excitement the +scene in Ruthven's study, and the explanations that had followed it. + +"Now do you wonder," he concluded, "that I feel as if a few rounds with +Rand-Brown would do me good." + +O'Hara breathed hard. + +"My word!" he said, "I'd like to see ye kill him." + +"But," said Trevor, "as you and Clowes have been pointing out to me, if +there's going to be a corpse, it'll be me. However, I mean to try. Now +perhaps you wouldn't mind showing me a few tricks." + +"Take my advice," said O'Hara, "and don't try any of that foolery." + +"Why, I thought you were such a believer in science," said Trevor in +surprise. + +"So I am, if you've enough of it. But it's the worst thing ye can do to +learn a trick or two just before a fight, if you don't know anything +about the game already. A tough, rushing fighter is ten times as good +as a man who's just begun to learn what he oughtn't to do." + +"Well, what do you advise me to do, then?" asked Trevor, impressed by +the unwonted earnestness with which the Irishman delivered this +pugilistic homily, which was a paraphrase of the views dinned into the +ears of every novice by the school instructor. + +"I must do something." + +"The best thing ye can do," said O'Hara, thinking for a moment, "is to +put on the gloves and have a round or two with me. Here's Moriarty at +last. We'll get him to time us." + +As much explanation as was thought good for him having been given to +the newcomer, to account for Trevor's newly-acquired taste for things +pugilistic, Moriarty took the watch, with instructions to give them two +minutes for the first round. + +"Go as hard as you can," said O'Hara to Trevor, as they faced one +another, "and hit as hard as you like. It won't be any practice if you +don't. I sha'n't mind being hit. It'll do me good for Aldershot. See?" + +Trevor said he saw. + +"Time," said Moriarty. + +Trevor went in with a will. He was a little shy at first of putting all +his weight into his blows. It was hard to forget that he felt friendly +towards O'Hara. But he speedily awoke to the fact that the Irishman +took his boxing very seriously, and was quite a different person when +he had the gloves on. When he was so equipped, the man opposite him +ceased to be either friend or foe in a private way. He was simply an +opponent, and every time he hit him was one point. And, when he entered +the ring, his only object in life for the next three minutes was to +score points. Consequently Trevor, sparring lightly and in rather a +futile manner at first, was woken up by a stinging flush hit between +the eyes. After that he, too, forgot that he liked the man before him, +and rushed him in all directions. There was no doubt as to who would +have won if it had been a competition. Trevor's guard was of the most +rudimentary order, and O'Hara got through when and how he liked. But +though he took a good deal, he also gave a good deal, and O'Hara +confessed himself not altogether sorry when Moriarty called "Time". + +"Man," he said regretfully, "why ever did ye not take up boxing before? +Ye'd have made a splendid middle-weight." + +"Well, have I a chance, do you think?" inquired Trevor. + +"Ye might do it with luck," said O'Hara, very doubtfully. "But," he +added, "I'm afraid ye've not much chance." + +And with this poor encouragement from his trainer and sparring-partner, +Trevor was forced to be content. + + + + +XXIII + +WHAT RENFORD SAW + + +The health of Master Harvey of Seymour's was so delicately constituted +that it was an absolute necessity that he should consume one or more +hot buns during the quarter of an hour's interval which split up +morning school. He was tearing across the junior gravel towards the +shop on the morning following Trevor's sparring practice with O'Hara, +when a melodious treble voice called his name. It was Renford. He +stopped, to allow his friend to come up with him, and then made as if +to resume his way to the shop. But Renford proposed an amendment. +"Don't go to the shop," he said, "I want to talk." + +"Well, can't you talk in the shop?" + +"Not what I want to tell you. It's private. Come for a stroll." + +Harvey hesitated. There were few things he enjoyed so much as exclusive +items of school gossip (scandal preferably), but hot new buns were +among those few things. However, he decided on this occasion to feed +the mind at the expense of the body. He accepted Renford's invitation. + + +"What is it?" he asked, as they made for the football field. "What's +been happening?" + +"It's frightfully exciting," said Renford. + +"What's up?" + +"You mustn't tell any one." + +"All right. Of course not." + +"Well, then, there's been a big fight, and I'm one of the only chaps +who know about it so far." + +"A fight?" Harvey became excited. "Who between?" + +Renford paused before delivering his news, to emphasise the importance +of it. + +"It was between O'Hara and Rand-Brown," he said at length. + +"_By Jove!_" said Harvey. Then a suspicion crept into his mind. + +"Look here, Renford," he said, "if you're trying to green me--" + +"I'm not, you ass," replied Renford indignantly. "It's perfectly true. +I saw it myself." + +"By Jove, did you really? Where was it? When did it come off? Was it a +good one? Who won?" + +"It was the best one I've ever seen." + +"Did O'Hara beat him? I hope he did. O'Hara's a jolly good sort." + +"Yes. They had six rounds. Rand-Brown got knocked out in the middle of +the sixth." + +"What, do you mean really knocked out, or did he just chuck it?" + +"No. He was really knocked out. He was on the floor for quite a time. +By Jove, you should have seen it. O'Hara was ripping in the sixth +round. He was all over him." + +"Tell us about it," said Harvey, and Renford told. + +"I'd got up early," he said, "to feed the ferrets, and I was just +cutting over to the fives-courts with their grub, when, just as I got +across the senior gravel, I saw O'Hara and Moriarty standing waiting +near the second court. O'Hara knows all about the ferrets, so I didn't +try and cut or anything. I went up and began talking to him. I noticed +he didn't look particularly keen on seeing me at first. I asked him if +he was going to play fives. Then he said no, and told me what he'd +really come for. He said he and Rand-Brown had had a row, and they'd +agreed to have it out that morning in one of the fives-courts. Of +course, when I heard that, I was all on to see it, so I said I'd wait, +if he didn't mind. He said he didn't care, so long as I didn't tell +everybody, so I said I wouldn't tell anybody except you, so he said all +right, then, I could stop if I wanted to. So that was how I saw it. +Well, after we'd been waiting a few minutes, Rand-Brown came in sight, +with that beast Merrett in our house, who'd come to second him. It was +just like one of those duels you read about, you know. Then O'Hara said +that as I was the only one there with a watch--he and Rand-Brown were +in footer clothes, and Merrett and Moriarty hadn't got their tickers on +them--I'd better act as timekeeper. So I said all right, I would, and +we went to the second fives-court. It's the biggest of them, you know. +I stood outside on the bench, looking through the wire netting over the +door, so as not to be in the way when they started scrapping. O'Hara +and Rand-Brown took off their blazers and sweaters, and chucked them to +Moriarty and Merrett, and then Moriarty and Merrett went and stood in +two corners, and O'Hara and Rand-Brown walked into the middle and stood +up to one another. Rand-Brown was miles the heaviest--by a stone, I +should think--and he was taller and had a longer reach. But O'Hara +looked much fitter. Rand-Brown looked rather flabby. + +"I sang out 'Time' through the wire netting, and they started off at +once. O'Hara offered to shake hands, but Rand-Brown wouldn't. So they +began without it. + +"The first round was awfully fast. They kept having long rallies all +over the place. O'Hara was a jolly sight quicker, and Rand-Brown didn't +seem able to guard his hits at all. But he hit frightfully hard +himself, great, heavy slogs, and O'Hara kept getting them in the face. +At last he got one bang in the mouth which knocked him down flat. He +was up again in a second, and was starting to rush, when I looked at +the watch, and found that I'd given them nearly half a minute too much +already. So I shouted 'Time', and made up my mind I'd keep more of an +eye on the watch next round. I'd got so jolly excited, watching them, +that I'd forgot I was supposed to be keeping time for them. They had +only asked for a minute between the rounds, but as I'd given them half +a minute too long in the first round, I chucked in a bit extra in the +rest, so that they were both pretty fit by the time I started them +again. + +"The second round was just like the first, and so was the third. O'Hara +kept getting the worst of it. He was knocked down three or four times +more, and once, when he'd rushed Rand-Brown against one of the walls, +he hit out and missed, and barked his knuckles jolly badly against the +wall. That was in the middle of the third round, and Rand-Brown had it +all his own way for the rest of the round--for about two minutes, that +is to say. He hit O'Hara about all over the shop. I was so jolly keen +on O'Hara's winning, that I had half a mind to call time early, so as +to give him time to recover. But I thought it would be a low thing to +do, so I gave them their full three minutes. + +"Directly they began the fourth round, I noticed that things were going +to change a bit. O'Hara had given up his rushing game, and was waiting +for his man, and when he came at him he'd put in a hot counter, nearly +always at the body. After a bit Rand-Brown began to get cautious, and +wouldn't rush, so the fourth round was the quietest there had been. In +the last minute they didn't hit each other at all. They simply sparred +for openings. It was in the fifth round that O'Hara began to forge +ahead. About half way through he got in a ripper, right in the wind, +which almost doubled Rand-Brown up, and then he started rushing again. +Rand-Brown looked awfully bad at the end of the round. Round six was +ripping. I never saw two chaps go for each other so. It was one long +rally. Then--how it happened I couldn't see, they were so quick--just +as they had been at it a minute and a half, there was a crack, and the +next thing I saw was Rand-Brown on the ground, looking beastly. He went +down absolutely flat; his heels and head touched the ground at the same +time. + + +"I counted ten out loud in the professional way like they do at the +National Sporting Club, you know, and then said 'O'Hara wins'. I felt +an awful swell. After about another half-minute, Rand-Brown was all +right again, and he got up and went back to the house with Merrett, and +O'Hara and Moriarty went off to Dexter's, and I gave the ferrets their +grub, and cut back to breakfast." + +"Rand-Brown wasn't at breakfast," said Harvey. + +"No. He went to bed. I wonder what'll happen. Think there'll be a row +about it?" + +"Shouldn't think so," said Harvey. "They never do make rows about +fights, and neither of them is a prefect, so I don't see what it +matters if they _do_ fight. But, I say--" + +"What's up?" + +"I wish," said Harvey, his voice full of acute regret, "that it had +been my turn to feed those ferrets." + +"I don't," said Renford cheerfully. "I wouldn't have missed that mill +for something. Hullo, there's the bell. We'd better run." + +When Trevor called at Seymour's that afternoon to see Rand-Brown, with +a view to challenging him to deadly combat, and found that O'Hara had +been before him, he ought to have felt relieved. His actual feeling was +one of acute annoyance. It seemed to him that O'Hara had exceeded the +limits of friendship. It was all very well for him to take over the +Rand-Brown contract, and settle it himself, in order to save Trevor +from a very bad quarter of an hour, but Trevor was one of those people +who object strongly to the interference of other people in their +private business. He sought out O'Hara and complained. Within two +minutes O'Hara's golden eloquence had soothed him and made him view the +matter in quite a different light. What O'Hara pointed out was that it +was not Trevor's affair at all, but his own. Who, he asked, had been +likely to be damaged most by Rand-Brown's manoeuvres in connection with +the lost bat? Trevor was bound to admit that O'Hara was that person. +Very well, then, said O'Hara, then who had a better right to fight +Rand-Brown? And Trevor confessed that no one else had a better. + +"Then I suppose," he said, "that I shall have to do nothing about it?" + +"That's it," said O'Hara. + +"It'll be rather beastly meeting the man after this," said Trevor, +presently. "Do you think he might possibly leave at the end of term?" + +"He's leaving at the end of the week," said O'Hara. "He was one of the +fellows Dexter caught in the vault that evening. You won't see much +more of Rand-Brown." + +"I'll try and put up with that," said Trevor. + +"And so will I," replied O'Hara. "And I shouldn't think Milton would be +so very grieved." + +"No," said Trevor. "I tell you what will make him sick, though, and +that is your having milled with Rand-Brown. It's a job he'd have liked +to have taken on himself." + + + + +XXIV + +CONCLUSION + + +Into the story at this point comes the narrative of Charles Mereweather +Cook, aged fourteen, a day-boy. + +Cook arrived at the school on the tenth of March, at precisely nine +o'clock, in a state of excitement. + +He said there was a row on in the town. + +Cross-examined, he said there was no end of a row on in the town. + +During morning school he explained further, whispering his tale into +the attentive ear of Knight of the School House, who sat next to him. + +What sort of a row, Knight wanted to know. + +Cook deposed that he had been riding on his bicycle past the entrance +to the Recreation Grounds on his way to school, when his eye was +attracted by the movements of a mass of men just inside the gate. They +appeared to be fighting. Witness did not stop to watch, much as he +would have liked to do so. Why not? Why, because he was late already, +and would have had to scorch anyhow, in order to get to school in time. +And he had been late the day before, and was afraid that old Appleby +(the master of the form) would give him beans if he were late again. +Wherefore he had no notion of what the men were fighting about, but he +betted that more would be heard about it. Why? Because, from what he +saw of it, it seemed a jolly big thing. There must have been quite +three hundred men fighting. (Knight, satirically, "_Pile_ it on!") +Well, quite a hundred, anyhow. Fifty a side. And fighting like +anything. He betted there would be something about it in the +_Wrykyn_ _Patriot_ tomorrow. He shouldn't wonder if somebody +had been killed. What were they scrapping about? How should _he_ +know! + +Here Mr Appleby, who had been trying for the last five minutes to find +out where the whispering noise came from, at length traced it to its +source, and forthwith requested Messrs Cook and Knight to do him two +hundred lines, adding that, if he heard them talking again, he would +put them into the extra lesson. Silence reigned from that moment. + +Next day, while the form was wrestling with the moderately exciting +account of Caesar's doings in Gaul, Master Cook produced from his +pocket a newspaper cutting. This, having previously planted a forcible +blow in his friend's ribs with an elbow to attract the latter's +attention, he handed to Knight, and in dumb show requested him to +peruse the same. Which Knight, feeling no interest whatever in Caesar's +doings in Gaul, and having, in consequence, a good deal of time on his +hands, proceeded to do. The cutting was headed "Disgraceful Fracas", +and was written in the elegant style that was always so marked a +feature of the _Wrykyn Patriot_. + +"We are sorry to have to report," it ran, "another of those deplorable +ebullitions of local Hooliganism, to which it has before now been our +painful duty to refer. Yesterday the Recreation Grounds were made the +scene of as brutal an exhibition of savagery as has ever marred the +fair fame of this town. Our readers will remember how on a previous +occasion, when the fine statue of Sir Eustace Briggs was found covered +with tar, we attributed the act to the malevolence of the Radical +section of the community. Events have proved that we were right. +Yesterday a body of youths, belonging to the rival party, was +discovered in the very act of repeating the offence. A thick coating of +tar had already been administered, when several members of the rival +faction appeared. A free fight of a peculiarly violent nature +immediately ensued, with the result that, before the police could +interfere, several of the combatants had received severe bruises. +Fortunately the police then arrived on the scene, and with great +difficulty succeeded in putting a stop to the _fracas_. Several +arrests were made. + +"We have no desire to discourage legitimate party rivalry, but we feel +justified in strongly protesting against such dastardly tricks as those +to which we have referred. We can assure our opponents that they can +gain nothing by such conduct." + +There was a good deal more to the effect that now was the time for all +good men to come to the aid of the party, and that the constituents of +Sir Eustace Briggs must look to it that they failed not in the hour of +need, and so on. That was what the _Wrykyn Patriot_ had to say on +the subject. + +O'Hara managed to get hold of a copy of the paper, and showed it to +Clowes and Trevor. + +"So now," he said, "it's all right, ye see. They'll never suspect it +wasn't the same people that tarred the statue both times. An' ye've got +the bat back, so it's all right, ye see." + +"The only thing that'll trouble you now," said Clowes, "will be your +conscience." + +O'Hara intimated that he would try and put up with that. + +"But isn't it a stroke of luck," he said, "that they should have gone +and tarred Sir Eustace again so soon after Moriarty and I did it?" + +Clowes said gravely that it only showed the force of good example. + +"Yes. They wouldn't have thought of it, if it hadn't been for us," +chortled O'Hara. "I wonder, now, if there's anything else we could do +to that statue!" he added, meditatively. + +"My good lunatic," said Clowes, "don't you think you've done almost +enough for one term?" + +"Well, 'myes," replied O'Hara thoughtfully, "perhaps we have, I +suppose." + + * * * * * + +The term wore on. Donaldson's won the final house-match by a matter of +twenty-six points. It was, as they had expected, one of the easiest +games they had had to play in the competition. Bryant's, who were their +opponents, were not strong, and had only managed to get into the final +owing to their luck in drawing weak opponents for the trial heats. The +real final, that had decided the ownership of the cup, had been +Donaldson's _v._ Seymour's. + +Aldershot arrived, and the sports. Drummond and O'Hara covered +themselves with glory, and brought home silver medals. But Moriarty, to +the disappointment of the school, which had counted on his pulling off +the middles, met a strenuous gentleman from St Paul's in the final, and +was prematurely outed in the first minute of the third round. To him, +therefore, there fell but a medal of bronze. + +It was on the Sunday after the sports that Trevor's connection with the +bat ceased--as far, that is to say, as concerned its unpleasant +character (as a piece of evidence that might be used to his +disadvantage). He had gone to supper with the headmaster, accompanied +by Clowes and Milton. The headmaster nearly always invited a few of the +house prefects to Sunday supper during the term. Sir Eustace Briggs +happened to be there. He had withdrawn his insinuations concerning the +part supposedly played by a member of the school in the matter of the +tarred statue, and the headmaster had sealed the _entente +cordiale_ by asking him to supper. + +An ordinary man might have considered it best to keep off the delicate +subject. Not so Sir Eustace Briggs. He was on to it like glue. He +talked of little else throughout the whole course of the meal. + +"My suspicions," he boomed, towards the conclusion of the feast, "which +have, I am rejoiced to say, proved so entirely void of foundation and +significance, were aroused in the first instance, as I mentioned +before, by the narrative of the man Samuel Wapshott." + +Nobody present showed the slightest desire to learn what the man Samuel +Wapshott had had to say for himself, but Sir Eustace, undismayed, +continued as if the whole table were hanging on his words. + +"The man Samuel Wapshott," he said, "distinctly asserted that a small +gold ornament, shaped like a bat, was handed by him to a lad of age +coeval with these lads here." + +The headmaster interposed. He had evidently heard more than enough of +the man Samuel Wapshott. + +"He must have been mistaken," he said briefly. "The bat which Trevor is +wearing on his watch-chain at this moment is the only one of its kind +that I know of. You have never lost it, Trevor?" + +Trevor thought for a moment. _He_ had never lost it. He replied +diplomatically, "It has been in a drawer nearly all the term, sir," he +said. + +"A drawer, hey?" remarked Sir Eustace Briggs. "Ah! A very sensible +place to keep it in, my boy. You could have no better place, in my +opinion." + +And Trevor agreed with him, with the mental reservation +that it rather depended on whom the drawer belonged to. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bat, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAT *** + +***** This file should be named 6879.txt or 6879.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/7/6879/ + +Produced by Suzanne L. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Gold Bat + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6879] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 6, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAT *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + +THE GOLD BAT + + + + + +by P. G. Wodehouse + +1904 + + + + + +[Dedication] +To +THAT PRINCE OF SLACKERS, +HERBERT WESTBROOK + + + +CONTENTS + + +Chapter + +I THE FIFTEENTH PLACE + +II THE GOLD BAT + +III THE MAYOR'S STATUE + +IV THE LEAGUE'S WARNING + +V MILL RECEIVES VISITORS + +VI TREVOR REMAINS FIRM + +VII "WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE" + +VIII O'HARA ON THE TRACK + +IX MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS + +X BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS + +XI THE HOUSE-MATCHES + +XII NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT + +XIII VICTIM NUMBER THREE + +XIV THE WHITE FIGURE + +XV A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE + +XVI THE RIPTON MATCH + +XVII THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT + +XVIII O'HARA EXCELS HIMSELF + +XIX THE MAYOR'S VISIT + +XX THE FINDING OF THE BAT + +XXI THE LEAGUE REVEALED + +XXII A DRESS REHEARSAL + +XXIII WHAT RENFORD SAW + +XXIV CONCLUSION + + + + +I + +THE FIFTEENTH PLACE + + +"Outside!" + +"Don't be an idiot, man. I bagged it first." + +"My dear chap, I've been waiting here a month." + +"When you fellows have _quite_ finished rotting about in front of +that bath don't let _me_ detain you." + +"Anybody seen that sponge?" + +"Well, look here"--this in a tone of compromise--"let's toss for it." + +"All right. Odd man out." + +All of which, being interpreted, meant that the first match of the +Easter term had just come to an end, and that those of the team who, +being day boys, changed over at the pavilion, instead of performing the +operation at leisure and in comfort, as did the members of houses, were +discussing the vital question--who was to have first bath? + +The Field Sports Committee at Wrykyn--that is, at the school which +stood some half-mile outside that town and took its name from it--were +not lavish in their expenditure as regarded the changing accommodation +in the pavilion. Letters appeared in every second number of the +_Wrykinian_, some short, others long, some from members of the +school, others from Old Boys, all protesting against the condition of +the first, second, and third fifteen dressing-rooms. "Indignant" would +inquire acidly, in half a page of small type, if the editor happened to +be aware that there was no hair-brush in the second room, and only half +a comb. "Disgusted O. W." would remark that when he came down with the +Wandering Zephyrs to play against the third fifteen, the water supply +had suddenly and mysteriously failed, and the W.Z.'s had been obliged +to go home as they were, in a state of primeval grime, and he thought +that this was "a very bad thing in a school of over six hundred boys", +though what the number of boys had to do with the fact that there was +no water he omitted to explain. The editor would express his regret in +brackets, and things would go on as before. + +There was only one bath in the first fifteen room, and there were on +the present occasion six claimants to it. And each claimant was of the +fixed opinion that, whatever happened subsequently, he was going to +have it first. Finally, on the suggestion of Otway, who had reduced +tossing to a fine art, a mystic game of Tommy Dodd was played. Otway +having triumphantly obtained first innings, the conversation reverted +to the subject of the match. + +The Easter term always opened with a scratch game against a mixed team +of masters and old boys, and the school usually won without any great +exertion. On this occasion the match had been rather more even than the +average, and the team had only just pulled the thing off by a couple of +tries to a goal. Otway expressed an opinion that the school had played +badly. + +"Why on earth don't you forwards let the ball out occasionally?" he +asked. Otway was one of the first fifteen halves. + +"They were so jolly heavy in the scrum," said Maurice, one of the +forwards. "And when we did let it out, the outsides nearly always +mucked it." + +"Well, it wasn't the halves' fault. We always got it out to the +centres." + +"It wasn't the centres," put in Robinson. "They played awfully well. +Trevor was ripping." + +"Trevor always is," said Otway; "I should think he's about the best +captain we've had here for a long time. He's certainly one of the best +centres." + +"Best there's been since Rivers-Jones," said Clephane. + +Rivers-Jones was one of those players who mark an epoch. He had been in +the team fifteen years ago, and had left Wrykyn to captain Cambridge +and play three years in succession for Wales. The school regarded the +standard set by him as one that did not admit of comparison. However +good a Wrykyn centre three-quarter might be, the most he could hope to +be considered was "the best _since_ Rivers-Jones". "Since" +Rivers-Jones, however, covered fifteen years, and to be looked on as +the best centre the school could boast of during that time, meant +something. For Wrykyn knew how to play football. + +Since it had been decided thus that the faults in the school attack did +not lie with the halves, forwards, or centres, it was more or less +evident that they must be attributable to the wings. And the search for +the weak spot was even further narrowed down by the general verdict +that Clowes, on the left wing, had played well. With a beautiful +unanimity the six occupants of the first fifteen room came to the +conclusion that the man who had let the team down that day had been the +man on the right--Rand-Brown, to wit, of Seymour's. + +"I'll bet he doesn't stay in the first long," said Clephane, who was +now in the bath, _vice_ Otway, retired. "I suppose they had to try +him, as he was the senior wing three-quarter of the second, but he's no +earthly good." + +"He only got into the second because he's big," was Robinson's opinion. +"A man who's big and strong can always get his second colours." + +"Even if he's a funk, like Rand-Brown," said Clephane. "Did any of you +chaps notice the way he let Paget through that time he scored for them? +He simply didn't attempt to tackle him. He could have brought him down +like a shot if he'd only gone for him. Paget was running straight along +the touch-line, and hadn't any room to dodge. I know Trevor was jolly +sick about it. And then he let him through once before in just the same +way in the first half, only Trevor got round and stopped him. He was +rank." + +"Missed every other pass, too," said Otway. + +Clephane summed up. + +"He was rank," he said again. "Trevor won't keep him in the team long." + +"I wish Paget hadn't left," said Otway, referring to the wing +three-quarter who, by leaving unexpectedly at the end of the Christmas +term, had let Rand-Brown into the team. His loss was likely to be felt. +Up till Christmas Wrykyn had done well, and Paget had been their scoring +man. Rand-Brown had occupied a similar position in the second fifteen. +He was big and speedy, and in second fifteen matches these qualities +make up for a great deal. If a man scores one or two tries in nearly +every match, people are inclined to overlook in him such failings as +timidity and clumsiness. It is only when he comes to be tried in +football of a higher class that he is seen through. In the second +fifteen the fact that Rand-Brown was afraid to tackle his man had +almost escaped notice. But the habit would not do in first fifteen +circles. + +"All the same," said Clephane, pursuing his subject, "if they don't +play him, I don't see who they're going to get. He's the best of the +second three-quarters, as far as I can see." + +It was this very problem that was puzzling Trevor, as he walked off the +field with Paget and Clowes, when they had got into their blazers after +the match. Clowes was in the same house as Trevor--Donaldson's--and +Paget was staying there, too. He had been head of Donaldson's up to +Christmas. + +"It strikes me," said Paget, "the school haven't got over the holidays +yet. I never saw such a lot of slackers. You ought to have taken thirty +points off the sort of team you had against you today." + +"Have you ever known the school play well on the second day of term?" +asked Clowes. "The forwards always play as if the whole thing bored +them to death." + +"It wasn't the forwards that mattered so much," said Trevor. "They'll +shake down all right after a few matches. A little running and passing +will put them right." + +"Let's hope so," Paget observed, "or we might as well scratch to Ripton +at once. There's a jolly sight too much of the mince-pie and Christmas +pudding about their play at present." There was a pause. Then Paget +brought out the question towards which he had been moving all the time. + +"What do you think of Rand-Brown?" he asked. + +It was pretty clear by the way he spoke what he thought of that player +himself, but in discussing with a football captain the capabilities of +the various members of his team, it is best to avoid a too positive +statement one way or the other before one has heard his views on the +subject. And Paget was one of those people who like to know the +opinions of others before committing themselves. + +Clowes, on the other hand, was in the habit of forming his views on his +own account, and expressing them. If people agreed with them, well and +good: it afforded strong presumptive evidence of their sanity. If they +disagreed, it was unfortunate, but he was not going to alter his +opinions for that, unless convinced at great length that they were +unsound. He summed things up, and gave you the result. You could take +it or leave it, as you preferred. + +"I thought he was bad," said Clowes. + +"Bad!" exclaimed Trevor, "he was a disgrace. One can understand a chap +having his off-days at any game, but one doesn't expect a man in the +Wrykyn first to funk. He mucked five out of every six passes I gave +him, too, and the ball wasn't a bit slippery. Still, I shouldn't mind +that so much if he had only gone for his man properly. It isn't being +out of practice that makes you funk. And even when he did have a try at +you, Paget, he always went high." + +"That," said Clowes thoughtfully, "would seem to show that he was +game." + +Nobody so much as smiled. Nobody ever did smile at Clowes' essays in +wit, perhaps because of the solemn, almost sad, tone of voice in which +he delivered them. He was tall and dark and thin, and had a pensive +eye, which encouraged the more soulful of his female relatives to +entertain hopes that he would some day take orders. + +"Well," said Paget, relieved at finding that he did not stand alone in +his views on Rand-Brown's performance, "I must say I thought he was +awfully bad myself." + +"I shall try somebody else next match," said Trevor. "It'll be rather +hard, though. The man one would naturally put in, Bryce, left at +Christmas, worse luck." + +Bryce was the other wing three-quarter of the second fifteen. + +"Isn't there anybody in the third?" asked Paget. + +"Barry," said Clowes briefly. + +"Clowes thinks Barry's good," explained Trevor. + +"He _is_ good," said Clowes. "I admit he's small, but he can +tackle." + +"The question is, would he be any good in the first? A chap might do +jolly well for the third, and still not be worth trying for the first." + +"I don't remember much about Barry," said Paget, "except being collared +by him when we played Seymour's last year in the final. I certainly +came away with a sort of impression that he could tackle. I thought he +marked me jolly well." + +"There you are, then," said Clowes. "A year ago Barry could tackle +Paget. There's no reason for supposing that he's fallen off since then. +We've seen that Rand-Brown _can't_ tackle Paget. Ergo, Barry is +better worth playing for the team than Rand-Brown. Q.E.D." + +"All right, then," replied Trevor. "There can't be any harm in trying +him. We'll have another scratch game on Thursday. Will you be here +then, Paget?" + +"Oh, yes. I'm stopping till Saturday." + +"Good man. Then we shall be able to see how he does against you. I wish +you hadn't left, though, by Jove. We should have had Ripton on toast, +the same as last term." + +Wrykyn played five schools, but six school matches. The school that +they played twice in the season was Ripton. To win one Ripton match +meant that, however many losses it might have sustained in the other +matches, the school had had, at any rate, a passable season. To win two +Ripton matches in the same year was almost unheard of. This year there +had seemed every likelihood of it. The match before Christmas on the +Ripton ground had resulted in a win for Wrykyn by two goals and a try +to a try. But the calculations of the school had been upset by the +sudden departure of Paget at the end of term, and also of Bryce, who +had hitherto been regarded as his understudy. And in the first Ripton +match the two goals had both been scored by Paget, and both had been +brilliant bits of individual play, which a lesser man could not have +carried through. + +The conclusion, therefore, at which the school reluctantly arrived, was +that their chances of winning the second match could not be judged by +their previous success. They would have to approach the Easter term +fixture from another--a non-Paget--standpoint. In these circumstances +it became a serious problem: who was to get the fifteenth place? +Whoever played in Paget's stead against Ripton would be certain, if the +match were won, to receive his colours. Who, then, would fill the +vacancy? + +"Rand-Brown, of course," said the crowd. + +But the experts, as we have shown, were of a different opinion. + + + + +II + +THE GOLD BAT + + +Trevor did not take long to resume a garb of civilisation. He never +wasted much time over anything. He was gifted with a boundless energy, +which might possibly have made him unpopular had he not justified it by +results. The football of the school had never been in such a +flourishing condition as it had attained to on his succeeding to the +captaincy. It was not only that the first fifteen was good. The +excellence of a first fifteen does not always depend on the captain. +But the games, even down to the very humblest junior game, had woken up +one morning--at the beginning of the previous term--to find themselves, +much to their surprise, organised going concerns. Like the immortal +Captain Pott, Trevor was "a terror to the shirker and the lubber". And +the resemblance was further increased by the fact that he was "a +toughish lot", who was "little, but steel and india-rubber". At first +sight his appearance was not imposing. Paterfamilias, who had heard his +son's eulogies on Trevor's performances during the holidays, and came +down to watch the school play a match, was generally rather +disappointed on seeing five feet six where he had looked for at least +six foot one, and ten stone where he had expected thirteen. But then, +what there was of Trevor was, as previously remarked, steel and +india-rubber, and he certainly played football like a miniature +Stoddart. It was characteristic of him that, though this was the +first match of the term, his condition seemed to be as good as +possible. He had done all his own work on the field and most of +Rand-Brown's, and apparently had not turned a hair. He was one of +those conscientious people who train in the holidays. + +When he had changed, he went down the passage to Clowes' study. Clowes was +in the position he frequently took up when the weather was good--wedged +into his window in a sitting position, one leg in the study, the other +hanging outside over space. The indoor leg lacked a boot, so that it was +evident that its owner had at least had the energy to begin to change. +That he had given the thing up after that, exhausted with the effort, was +what one naturally expected from Clowes. He would have made a splendid +actor: he was so good at resting. + +"Hurry up and dress," said Trevor; "I want you to come over to the +baths." + +"What on earth do you want over at the baths?" + +"I want to see O'Hara." + +"Oh, yes, I remember. Dexter's are camping out there, aren't they? I +heard they were. Why is it?" + +"One of the Dexter kids got measles in the last week of the holidays, +so they shunted all the beds and things across, and the chaps went back +there instead of to the house." + +In the winter term the baths were always boarded over and converted +into a sort of extra gymnasium where you could go and box or fence when +there was no room to do it in the real gymnasium. Socker and stump-cricket +were also largely played there, the floor being admirably suited to such +games, though the light was always rather tricky, and prevented heavy +scoring. + +"I should think," said Clowes, "from what I've seen of Dexter's +beauties, that Dexter would like them to camp out at the bottom of the +baths all the year round. It would be a happy release for him if they +were all drowned. And I suppose if he had to choose any one of them for +a violent death, he'd pick O'Hara. O'Hara must be a boon to a +house-master. I've known chaps break rules when the spirit moved +them, but he's the only one I've met who breaks them all day long +and well into the night simply for amusement. I've often thought of +writing to the S.P.C.A. about it. I suppose you could call Dexter an +animal all right?" + +"O'Hara's right enough, really. A man like Dexter would make any fellow +run amuck. And then O'Hara's an Irishman to start with, which makes a +difference." + +There is usually one house in every school of the black sheep sort, +and, if you go to the root of the matter, you will generally find that +the fault is with the master of that house. A house-master who enters +into the life of his house, coaches them in games--if an athlete--or, +if not an athlete, watches the games, umpiring at cricket and +refereeing at football, never finds much difficulty in keeping order. +It may be accepted as fact that the juniors of a house will never be +orderly of their own free will, but disturbances in the junior day-room +do not make the house undisciplined. The prefects are the criterion. +If you find them joining in the general "rags", and even starting +private ones on their own account, then you may safely say that it is +time the master of that house retired from the business, and took to +chicken-farming. And that was the state of things in Dexter's. It was +the most lawless of the houses. Mr Dexter belonged to a type of master +almost unknown at a public school--the usher type. In a private school +he might have passed. At Wrykyn he was out of place. To him the whole +duty of a house-master appeared to be to wage war against his house. + +When Dexter's won the final for the cricket cup in the summer term of +two years back, the match lasted four afternoons--four solid afternoons +of glorious, up-and-down cricket. Mr Dexter did not see a single ball of +that match bowled. He was prowling in sequestered lanes and broken-down +barns out of bounds on the off-chance that he might catch some member of +his house smoking there. As if the whole of the house, from the head to +the smallest fag, were not on the field watching Day's best bats collapse +before Henderson's bowling, and Moriarty hit up that marvellous and +unexpected fifty-three at the end of the second innings! + +That sort of thing definitely stamps a master. + +"What do you want to see O'Hara about?" asked Clowes. + +"He's got my little gold bat. I lent it him in the holidays." + +A remark which needs a footnote. The bat referred to was made of gold, +and was about an inch long by an eighth broad. It had come into +existence some ten years previously, in the following manner. The +inter-house cricket cup at Wrykyn had originally been a rather +tarnished and unimpressive vessel, whose only merit consisted in the +fact that it was of silver. Ten years ago an Old Wrykinian, suddenly +reflecting that it would not be a bad idea to do something for the +school in a small way, hied him to the nearest jeweller's and purchased +another silver cup, vast withal and cunningly decorated with filigree +work, and standing on a massive ebony plinth, round which were little +silver lozenges just big enough to hold the name of the winning house +and the year of grace. This he presented with his blessing to be +competed for by the dozen houses that made up the school of Wrykyn, and +it was formally established as the house cricket cup. The question now +arose: what was to be done with the other cup? The School House, who +happened to be the holders at the time, suggested disinterestedly that +it should become the property of the house which had won it last. "Not +so," replied the Field Sports Committee, "but far otherwise. We will +have it melted down in a fiery furnace, and thereafter fashioned into +eleven little silver bats. And these little silver bats shall be the +guerdon of the eleven members of the winning team, to have and to hold +for the space of one year, unless, by winning the cup twice in +succession, they gain the right of keeping the bat for yet another +year. How is that, umpire?" And the authorities replied, "O men of +infinite resource and sagacity, verily is it a cold day when _you_ +get left behind. Forge ahead." But, when they had forged ahead, behold! +it would not run to eleven little silver bats, but only to ten little +silver bats. Thereupon the headmaster, a man liberal with his cash, +caused an eleventh little bat to be fashioned--for the captain of the +winning team to have and to hold in the manner aforesaid. And, to +single it out from the others, it was wrought, not of silver, but of +gold. And so it came to pass that at the time of our story Trevor was +in possession of the little gold bat, because Donaldson's had won the +cup in the previous summer, and he had captained them--and, +incidentally, had scored seventy-five without a mistake. + +"Well, I'm hanged if I would trust O'Hara with my bat," said Clowes, +referring to the silver ornament on his own watch-chain; "he's probably +pawned yours in the holidays. Why did you lend it to him?" + +"His people wanted to see it. I know him at home, you know. They asked +me to lunch the last day but one of the holidays, and we got talking +about the bat, because, of course, if we hadn't beaten Dexter's in the +final, O'Hara would have had it himself. So I sent it over next day +with a note asking O'Hara to bring it back with him here." + +"Oh, well, there's a chance, then, seeing he's only had it so little +time, that he hasn't pawned it yet. You'd better rush off and get it +back as soon as possible. It's no good waiting for me. I shan't be +ready for weeks." + +"Where's Paget?" + +"Teaing with Donaldson. At least, he said he was going to." + +"Then I suppose I shall have to go alone. I hate walking alone." + +"If you hurry," said Clowes, scanning the road from his post of +vantage, "you'll be able to go with your fascinating pal Ruthven. He's +just gone out." + +Trevor dashed downstairs in his energetic way, and overtook the youth +referred to. + +Clowes brooded over them from above like a sorrowful and rather +disgusted Providence. Trevor's liking for Ruthven, who was a +Donaldsonite like himself, was one of the few points on which the two +had any real disagreement. Clowes could not understand how any person +in his senses could of his own free will make an intimate friend of +Ruthven. + +"Hullo, Trevor," said Ruthven. + +"Come over to the baths," said Trevor, "I want to see O'Hara about +something. Or were you going somewhere else." + +"I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I never know what to do in +term-time. It's deadly dull." + +Trevor could never understand how any one could find term-time dull. +For his own part, there always seemed too much to do in the time. + +"You aren't allowed to play games?" he said, remembering something +about a doctor's certificate in the past. + +"No," said Ruthven. "Thank goodness," he added. + +Which remark silenced Trevor. To a person who thanked goodness that he +was not allowed to play games he could find nothing to say. But he +ceased to wonder how it was that Ruthven was dull. + +They proceeded to the baths together in silence. O'Hara, they were +informed by a Dexter's fag who met them outside the door, was not +about. + +"When he comes back," said Trevor, "tell him I want him to come to tea +tomorrow directly after school, and bring my bat. Don't forget." + +The fag promised to make a point of it. + + + + +III + +THE MAYOR'S STATUE + + +One of the rules that governed the life of Donough O'Hara, the +light-hearted descendant of the O'Haras of Castle Taterfields, Co. +Clare, Ireland, was "Never refuse the offer of a free tea". So, on +receipt--per the Dexter's fag referred to--of Trevor's invitation, he +scratched one engagement (with his mathematical master--not wholly +unconnected with the working-out of Examples 200 to 206 in Hall and +Knight's Algebra), postponed another (with his friend and ally Moriarty, +of Dexter's, who wished to box with him in the gymnasium), and made his +way at a leisurely pace towards Donaldson's. He was feeling particularly +pleased with himself today, for several reasons. He had begun the day +well by scoring brilliantly off Mr Dexter across the matutinal rasher +and coffee. In morning school he had been put on to translate the one +passage which he happened to have prepared--the first ten lines, in +fact, of the hundred which formed the morning's lesson. And in the +final hour of afternoon school, which was devoted to French, he had +discovered and exploited with great success an entirely new and original +form of ragging. This, he felt, was the strenuous life; this was living +one's life as one's life should be lived. + +He met Trevor at the gate. As they were going in, a carriage and pair +dashed past. Its cargo consisted of two people, the headmaster, looking +bored, and a small, dapper man, with a very red face, who looked +excited, and was talking volubly. Trevor and O'Hara raised their caps +as the chariot swept by, but the salute passed unnoticed. The Head +appeared to be wrapped in thought. + +"What's the Old Man doing in a carriage, I wonder," said Trevor, +looking after them. "Who's that with him?" + +"That," said O'Hara, "is Sir Eustace Briggs." + +"Who's Sir Eustace Briggs?" + +O'Hara explained, in a rich brogue, that Sir Eustace was Mayor of +Wrykyn, a keen politician, and a hater of the Irish nation, judging by +his letters and speeches. + +They went into Trevor's study. Clowes was occupying the window in his +usual manner. + +"Hullo, O'Hara," he said, "there is an air of quiet satisfaction about +you that seems to show that you've been ragging Dexter. Have you?" + +"Oh, that was only this morning at breakfast. The best rag was in +French," replied O'Hara, who then proceeded to explain in detail the +methods he had employed to embitter the existence of the hapless Gallic +exile with whom he had come in contact. It was that gentleman's custom +to sit on a certain desk while conducting the lesson. This desk chanced +to be O'Hara's. On the principle that a man may do what he likes with +his own, he had entered the room privily in the dinner-hour, and +removed the screws from his desk, with the result that for the first +half-hour of the lesson the class had been occupied in excavating M. +Gandinois from the ruins. That gentleman's first act on regaining his +equilibrium had been to send O'Hara out of the room, and O'Hara, who +had foreseen this emergency, had spent a very pleasant half-hour in the +passage with some mixed chocolates and a copy of Mr Hornung's +_Amateur Cracksman_. It was his notion of a cheerful and instructive +French lesson. + +"What were you talking about when you came in?" asked Clowes. "Who's +been slanging Ireland, O'Hara?" + +"The man Briggs." + +"What are you going to do about it? Aren't you going to take any +steps?" + +"Is it steps?" said O'Hara, warmly, "and haven't we----" + +He stopped. + +"Well?" + +"Ye know," he said, seriously, "ye mustn't let it go any further. I +shall get sacked if it's found out. An' so will Moriarty, too." + +"Why?" asked Trevor, looking up from the tea-pot he was filling, "what +on earth have you been doing?" + +"Wouldn't it be rather a cheery idea," suggested Clowes, "if you began +at the beginning." + +"Well, ye see," O'Hara began, "it was this way. The first I heard of it +was from Dexter. He was trying to score off me as usual, an' he said, +'Have ye seen the paper this morning, O'Hara?' I said, no, I had not. +Then he said, 'Ah,' he said, 'ye should look at it. There's something +there that ye'll find interesting.' I said, 'Yes, sir?' in me +respectful way. 'Yes,' said he, 'the Irish members have been making +their customary disturbances in the House. Why is it, O'Hara,' he said, +'that Irishmen are always thrusting themselves forward and making +disturbances for purposes of self-advertisement?' 'Why, indeed, sir?' +said I, not knowing what else to say, and after that the conversation +ceased." + +"Go on," said Clowes. + +"After breakfast Moriarty came to me with a paper, and showed me what +they had been saying about the Irish. There was a letter from the man +Briggs on the subject. 'A very sensible and temperate letter from Sir +Eustace Briggs', they called it, but bedad! if that was a temperate +letter, I should like to know what an intemperate one is. Well, we read +it through, and Moriarty said to me, 'Can we let this stay as it is?' +And I said, 'No. We can't.' 'Well,' said Moriarty to me, 'what are we +to do about it? I should like to tar and feather the man,' he said. 'We +can't do that,' I said, 'but why not tar and feather his statue?' I +said. So we thought we would. Ye know where the statue is, I suppose? +It's in the recreation ground just across the river." + +"I know the place," said Clowes. "Go on. This is ripping. I always knew +you were pretty mad, but this sounds as if it were going to beat all +previous records." + +"Have ye seen the baths this term," continued O'Hara, "since they +shifted Dexter's house into them? The beds are in two long rows along +each wall. Moriarty's and mine are the last two at the end farthest +from the door." + +"Just under the gallery," said Trevor. "I see." + +"That's it. Well, at half-past ten sharp every night Dexter sees that +we're all in, locks the door, and goes off to sleep at the Old Man's, +and we don't see him again till breakfast. He turns the gas off from +outside. At half-past seven the next morning, Smith"--Smith was one of +the school porters--"unlocks the door and calls us, and we go over to +the Hall to breakfast." + +"Well?" + +"Well, directly everybody was asleep last night--it wasn't till after +one, as there was a rag on--Moriarty and I got up, dressed, and climbed +up into the gallery. Ye know the gallery windows? They open at the top, +an' it's rather hard to get out of them. But we managed it, and dropped +on to the gravel outside." + +"Long drop," said Clowes. + +"Yes. I hurt myself rather. But it was in a good cause. I dropped +first, and while I was on the ground, Moriarty came on top of me. +That's how I got hurt. But it wasn't much, and we cut across the +grounds, and over the fence, and down to the river. It was a fine +night, and not very dark, and everything smelt ripping down by the +river." + +"Don't get poetical," said Clowes. "Stick to the point." + +"We got into the boat-house--" + +"How?" asked the practical Trevor, for the boat-house was wont to be +locked at one in the morning. "Moriarty had a key that fitted," +explained O'Hara, briefly. "We got in, and launched a boat--a big +tub--put in the tar and a couple of brushes--there's always tar in +the boat-house--and rowed across." + +"Wait a bit," interrupted Trevor, "you said tar and feathers. Where did +you get the feathers?" + +"We used leaves. They do just as well, and there were heaps on the +bank. Well, when we landed, we tied up the boat, and bucked across to +the Recreation Ground. We got over the railings--beastly, spiky +railings--and went over to the statue. Ye know where the statue stands? +It's right in the middle of the place, where everybody can see it. +Moriarty got up first, and I handed him the tar and a brush. Then I +went up with the other brush, and we began. We did his face first. It +was too dark to see really well, but I think we made a good job of it. +When we had put about as much tar on as we thought would do, we took +out the leaves--which we were carrying in our pockets--and spread them +on. Then we did the rest of him, and after about half an hour, when we +thought we'd done about enough, we got into our boat again, and came +back." + +"And what did you do till half-past seven?" + +"We couldn't get back the way we'd come, so we slept in the boat-house." + +"Well--I'm--hanged," was Trevor's comment on the story. + +Clowes roared with laughter. O'Hara was a perpetual joy to him. + +As O'Hara was going, Trevor asked him for his gold bat. + +"You haven't lost it, I hope?" he said. + +O'Hara felt in his pocket, but brought his hand out at once and +transferred it to another pocket. A look of anxiety came over his face, +and was reflected in Trevor's. + +"I could have sworn it was in that pocket," he said. + +"You _haven't_ lost it?" queried Trevor again. + +"He has," said Clowes, confidently. "If you want to know where that bat +is, I should say you'd find it somewhere between the baths and the +statue. At the foot of the statue, for choice. It seems to me--correct +me if I am wrong--that you have been and gone and done it, me broth av +a bhoy." + +O'Hara gave up the search. + +"It's gone," he said. "Man, I'm most awfully sorry. I'd sooner have +lost a ten-pound note." + +"I don't see why you should lose either," snapped Trevor. "Why the +blazes can't you be more careful." + +O'Hara was too penitent for words. Clowes took it on himself to point +out the bright side. + +"There's nothing to get sick about, really," he said. "If the thing +doesn't turn up, though it probably will, you'll simply have to tell +the Old Man that it's lost. He'll have another made. You won't be asked +for it till just before Sports Day either, so you will have plenty of +time to find it." + +The challenge cups, and also the bats, had to be given to the +authorities before the sports, to be formally presented on Sports Day. + +"Oh, I suppose it'll be all right," said Trevor, "but I hope it won't +be found anywhere near the statue." + +O'Hara said he hoped so too. + + + + +IV + +THE LEAGUE'S WARNING + + +The team to play in any match was always put upon the notice-board at +the foot of the stairs in the senior block a day before the date of the +fixture. Both first and second fifteens had matches on the Thursday of +this week. The second were playing a team brought down by an old +Wrykinian. The first had a scratch game. + +When Barry, accompanied by M'Todd, who shared his study at Seymour's +and rarely left him for two minutes on end, passed by the notice-board +at the quarter to eleven interval, it was to the second fifteen list +that he turned his attention. Now that Bryce had left, he thought he +might have a chance of getting into the second. His only real rival, he +considered, was Crawford, of the School House, who was the other wing +three-quarter of the third fifteen. The first name he saw on the list +was Crawford's. It seemed to be written twice as large as any of the +others, and his own was nowhere to be seen. The fact that he had half +expected the calamity made things no better. He had set his heart on +playing for the second this term. + +Then suddenly he noticed a remarkable phenomenon. The other wing +three-quarter was Rand-Brown. If Rand-Brown was playing for the second, +who was playing for the first? + +He looked at the list. + +"_Come_ on," he said hastily to M'Todd. He wanted to get away +somewhere where his agitated condition would not be noticed. He felt +quite faint at the shock of seeing his name on the list of the first +fifteen. There it was, however, as large as life. "M. Barry." Separated +from the rest by a thin red line, but still there. In his most +optimistic moments he had never dreamed of this. M'Todd was reading +slowly through the list of the second. He did everything slowly, except +eating. + +"Come on," said Barry again. + +M'Todd had, after much deliberation, arrived at a profound truth. He +turned to Barry, and imparted his discovery to him in the weighty +manner of one who realises the importance of his words. + +"Look here," he said, "your name's not down here." + +"I know. _Come_ on." + +"But that means you're not playing for the second." + +"Of course it does. Well, if you aren't coming, I'm off." + +"But, look here----" + +Barry disappeared through the door. After a moment's pause, M'Todd +followed him. He came up with him on the senior gravel. + +"What's up?" he inquired. + +"Nothing," said Barry. + +"Are you sick about not playing for the second?" + +"No." + +"You are, really. Come and have a bun." + +In the philosophy of M'Todd it was indeed a deep-rooted sorrow that +could not be cured by the internal application of a new, hot bun. It +had never failed in his own case. + +"Bun!" Barry was quite shocked at the suggestion. "I can't afford to +get myself out of condition with beastly buns." + +"But if you aren't playing----" + +"You ass. I'm playing for the first. Now, do you see?" + +M'Todd gaped. His mind never worked very rapidly. "What about +Rand-Brown, then?" he said. + +"Rand-Brown's been chucked out. Can't you understand? You _are_ an +idiot. Rand-Brown's playing for the second, and I'm playing for the +first." + +"But you're----" + +He stopped. He had been going to point out that Barry's tender years--he +was only sixteen--and smallness would make it impossible for him to play +with success for the first fifteen. He refrained owing to a conviction +that the remark would not be wholly judicious. Barry was touchy on the +subject of his size, and M'Todd had suffered before now for commenting +on it in a disparaging spirit. + +"I tell you what we'll do after school," said Barry, "we'll have some +running and passing. It'll do you a lot of good, and I want to practise +taking passes at full speed. You can trot along at your ordinary pace, +and I'll sprint up from behind." + +M'Todd saw no objection to that. Trotting along at his ordinary +pace--five miles an hour--would just suit him. + +"Then after that," continued Barry, with a look of enthusiasm, "I want +to practise passing back to my centre. Paget used to do it awfully well +last term, and I know Trevor expects his wing to. So I'll buck along, +and you race up to take my pass. See?" + +This was not in M'Todd's line at all. He proposed a slight alteration +in the scheme. + +"Hadn't you better get somebody else--?" he began. + +"Don't be a slack beast," said Barry. "You want exercise awfully +badly." + +And, as M'Todd always did exactly as Barry wished, he gave in, and +spent from four-thirty to five that afternoon in the prescribed manner. +A suggestion on his part at five sharp that it wouldn't be a bad idea +to go and have some tea was not favourably received by the enthusiastic +three-quarter, who proposed to devote what time remained before lock-up +to practising drop-kicking. It was a painful alternative that faced +M'Todd. His allegiance to Barry demanded that he should consent to the +scheme. On the other hand, his allegiance to afternoon tea--equally +strong--called him back to the house, where there was cake, and also +muffins. In the end the question was solved by the appearance of +Drummond, of Seymour's, garbed in football things, and also anxious to +practise drop-kicking. So M'Todd was dismissed to his tea with +opprobrious epithets, and Barry and Drummond settled down to a little +serious and scientific work. + +Making allowances for the inevitable attack of nerves that attends a +first appearance in higher football circles than one is accustomed to, +Barry did well against the scratch team--certainly far better than +Rand-Brown had done. His smallness was, of course, against him, and, on +the only occasion on which he really got away, Paget overtook him and +brought him down. But then Paget was exceptionally fast. In the two +most important branches of the game, the taking of passes and tackling, +Barry did well. As far as pluck went he had enough for two, and when +the whistle blew for no-side he had not let Paget through once, and +Trevor felt that his inclusion in the team had been justified. There +was another scratch game on the Saturday. Barry played in it, and did +much better. Paget had gone away by an early train, and the man he had +to mark now was one of the masters, who had been good in his time, but +was getting a trifle old for football. Barry scored twice, and on one +occasion, by passing back to Trevor after the manner of Paget, enabled +the captain to run in. And Trevor, like the captain in _Billy +Taylor_, "werry much approved of what he'd done." Barry began to be +regarded in the school as a regular member of the fifteen. The first of +the fixture-card matches, versus the Town, was due on the following +Saturday, and it was generally expected that he would play. M'Todd's +devotion increased every day. He even went to the length of taking long +runs with him. And if there was one thing in the world that M'Todd +loathed, it was a long run. + +On the Thursday before the match against the Town, Clowes came +chuckling to Trevor's study after preparation, and asked him if he had +heard the latest. + +"Have you ever heard of the League?" he said. + +Trevor pondered. + +"I don't think so," he replied. + +"How long have you been at the school?" + +"Let's see. It'll be five years at the end of the summer term." + +"Ah, then you wouldn't remember. I've been here a couple of terms +longer than you, and the row about the League was in my first term." + +"What was the row?" + +"Oh, only some chaps formed a sort of secret society in the place. Kind +of Vehmgericht, you know. If they got their knife into any one, he +usually got beans, and could never find out where they came from. At +first, as a matter of fact, the thing was quite a philanthropical +concern. There used to be a good deal of bullying in the place then--at +least, in some of the houses--and, as the prefects couldn't or wouldn't +stop it, some fellows started this League." + +"Did it work?" + +"Work! By Jove, I should think it did. Chaps who previously couldn't +get through the day without making some wretched kid's life not worth +living used to go about as nervous as cats, looking over their +shoulders every other second. There was one man in particular, a chap +called Leigh. He was hauled out of bed one night, blindfolded, and +ducked in a cold bath. He was in the School House." + +"Why did the League bust up?" + +"Well, partly because the fellows left, but chiefly because they didn't +stick to the philanthropist idea. If anybody did anything they didn't +like, they used to go for him. At last they put their foot into it +badly. A chap called Robinson--in this house by the way--offended them +in some way, and one morning he was found tied up in the bath, up to +his neck in cold water. Apparently he'd been there about an hour. He +got pneumonia, and almost died, and then the authorities began to get +going. Robinson thought he had recognised the voice of one of the +chaps--I forget his name. The chap was had up by the Old Man, and gave +the show away entirely. About a dozen fellows were sacked, clean off +the reel. Since then the thing has been dropped." + +"But what about it? What were you going to say when you came in?" + +"Why, it's been revived!" + +"Rot!" + +"It's a fact. Do you know Mill, a prefect, in Seymour's?" + +"Only by sight." + +"I met him just now. He's in a raving condition. His study's been +wrecked. You never saw such a sight. Everything upside down or smashed. +He has been showing me the ruins." + +"I believe Mill is awfully barred in Seymour's," said Trevor. "Anybody +might have ragged his study." + +"That's just what I thought. He's just the sort of man the League used +to go for." + +"That doesn't prove that it's been revived, all the same," objected +Trevor. + +"No, friend; but this does. Mill found it tied to a chair." + +It was a small card. It looked like an ordinary visiting card. On it, +in neat print, were the words, "_With the compliments of the +League_". + +"That's exactly the same sort of card as they used to use," said +Clowes. "I've seen some of them. What do you think of that?" + +"I think whoever has started the thing is a pretty average-sized idiot. +He's bound to get caught some time or other, and then out he goes. The +Old Man wouldn't think twice about sacking a chap of that sort." + +"A chap of that sort," said Clowes, "will take jolly good care he isn't +caught. But it's rather sport, isn't it?" + +And he went off to his study. + +Next day there was further evidence that the League was an actual going +concern. When Trevor came down to breakfast, he found a letter by his +plate. It was printed, as the card had been. It was signed "The +President of the League." And the purport of it was that the League did +not wish Barry to continue to play for the first fifteen. + + + + +V + +MILL RECEIVES VISITORS + + +Trevor's first idea was that somebody had sent the letter for a +joke,--Clowes for choice. + +He sounded him on the subject after breakfast. + +"Did you send me that letter?" he inquired, when Clowes came into his +study to borrow a _Sportsman_. + +"What letter? Did you send the team for tomorrow up to the sporter? I +wonder what sort of a lot the Town are bringing." + +"About not giving Barry his footer colours?" + +Clowes was reading the paper. + +"Giving whom?" he asked. + +"Barry. Can't you listen?" + +"Giving him what?" + +"Footer colours." + +"What about them?" + +Trevor sprang at the paper, and tore it away from him. After which he +sat on the fragments. + +"Did you send me a letter about not giving Barry his footer colours?" + +Clowes surveyed him with the air of a nurse to whom the family baby has +just said some more than usually good thing. + +"Don't stop," he said, "I could listen all day." + +Trevor felt in his pocket for the note, and flung it at him. Clowes +picked it up, and read it gravely. + +"What _are_ footer colours?" he asked. + +"Well," said Trevor, "it's a pretty rotten sort of joke, whoever sent +it. You haven't said yet whether you did or not." + +"What earthly reason should I have for sending it? And I think you're +making a mistake if you think this is meant as a joke." + +"You don't really believe this League rot?" + +"You didn't see Mill's study 'after treatment'. I did. Anyhow, how do +you account for the card I showed you?" + +"But that sort of thing doesn't happen at school." + +"Well, it _has_ happened, you see." + +"Who do you think did send the letter, then?" + +"The President of the League." + +"And who the dickens is the President of the League when he's at home?" + +"If I knew that, I should tell Mill, and earn his blessing. Not that I +want it." + +"Then, I suppose," snorted Trevor, "you'd suggest that on the strength +of this letter I'd better leave Barry out of the team?" + +"Satirically in brackets," commented Clowes. + +"It's no good your jumping on _me_," he added. "I've done nothing. +All I suggest is that you'd better keep more or less of a look-out. If +this League's anything like the old one, you'll find they've all sorts +of ways of getting at people they don't love. I shouldn't like to come +down for a bath some morning, and find you already in possession, tied +up like Robinson. When they found Robinson, he was quite blue both as +to the face and speech. He didn't speak very clearly, but what one +could catch was well worth hearing. I should advise you to sleep with a +loaded revolver under your pillow." + +"The first thing I shall do is find out who wrote this letter." + +"I should," said Clowes, encouragingly. "Keep moving." + +In Seymour's house the Mill's study incident formed the only theme of +conversation that morning. Previously the sudden elevation to the first +fifteen of Barry, who was popular in the house, at the expense of +Rand-Brown, who was unpopular, had given Seymour's something to talk +about. But the ragging of the study put this topic entirely in the shade. +The study was still on view in almost its original condition of disorder, +and all day comparative strangers flocked to see Mill in his den, in +order to inspect things. Mill was a youth with few friends, and it is +probable that more of his fellow-Seymourites crossed the threshold of +his study on the day after the occurrence than had visited him in the +entire course of his school career. Brown would come in to borrow a +knife, would sweep the room with one comprehensive glance, and depart, +to be followed at brief intervals by Smith, Robinson, and Jones, who +came respectively to learn the right time, to borrow a book, and to ask +him if he had seen a pencil anywhere. Towards the end of the day, Mill +would seem to have wearied somewhat of the proceedings, as was proved +when Master Thomas Renford, aged fourteen (who fagged for Milton, the +head of the house), burst in on the thin pretence that he had mistaken +the study for that of his rightful master, and gave vent to a prolonged +whistle of surprise and satisfaction at the sight of the ruins. On +that occasion, the incensed owner of the dismantled study, taking a +mean advantage of the fact that he was a prefect, and so entitled to +wield the rod, produced a handy swagger-stick from an adjacent corner, +and, inviting Master Renford to bend over, gave him six of the best to +remember him by. Which ceremony being concluded, he kicked him out into +the passage, and Renford went down to the junior day-room to tell his +friend Harvey about it. + +"Gave me six, the cad," said he, "just because I had a look at his +beastly study. Why shouldn't I look at his study if I like? I've a +jolly good mind to go up and have another squint." + +Harvey warmly approved the scheme. + +"No, I don't think I will," said Renford with a yawn. "It's such a fag +going upstairs." + +"Yes, isn't it?" said Harvey. + +"And he's such a beast, too." + +"Yes, isn't he?" said Harvey. + +"I'm jolly glad his study _has_ been ragged," continued the +vindictive Renford. + +"It's jolly exciting, isn't it?" added Harvey. "And I thought this term +was going to be slow. The Easter term generally is." + +This remark seemed to suggest a train of thought to Renford, who made +the following cryptic observation. "Have you seen them today?" + +To the ordinary person the words would have conveyed little meaning. To +Harvey they appeared to teem with import. + +"Yes," he said, "I saw them early this morning." + +"Were they all right?" + +"Yes. Splendid." + +"Good," said Renford. + +Barry's friend Drummond was one of those who had visited the scene of +the disaster early, before Mill's energetic hand had repaired the +damage done, and his narrative was consequently in some demand. + +"The place was in a frightful muck," he said. "Everything smashed +except the table; and ink all over the place. Whoever did it must have +been fairly sick with him, or he'd never have taken the trouble to do +it so thoroughly. Made a fair old hash of things, didn't he, Bertie?" + +"Bertie" was the form in which the school elected to serve up the name +of De Bertini. Raoul de Bertini was a French boy who had come to Wrykyn +in the previous term. Drummond's father had met his father in Paris, +and Drummond was supposed to be looking after Bertie. They shared a +study together. Bertie could not speak much English, and what he did +speak was, like Mill's furniture, badly broken. + +"Pardon?" he said. + +"Doesn't matter," said Drummond, "it wasn't anything important. I was +only appealing to you for corroborative detail to give artistic +verisimilitude to a bald and unconvincing narrative." + +Bertie grinned politely. He always grinned when he was not quite equal +to the intellectual pressure of the conversation. As a consequence of +which, he was generally, like Mrs Fezziwig, one vast, substantial +smile. + +"I never liked Mill much," said Barry, "but I think it's rather bad +luck on the man." + +"Once," announced M'Todd, solemnly, "he kicked me--for making a row in +the passage." It was plain that the recollection rankled. + +Barry would probably have pointed out what an excellent and +praiseworthy act on Mill's part that had been, when Rand-Brown came in. + +"Prefects' meeting?" he inquired. "Or haven't they made you a prefect +yet, M'Todd?" + +M'Todd said they had not. + +Nobody present liked Rand-Brown, and they looked at him rather +inquiringly, as if to ask what he had come for. A friend may drop in +for a chat. An acquaintance must justify his intrusion. + +Rand-Brown ignored the silent inquiry. He seated himself on the table, +and dragged up a chair to rest his legs on. + +"Talking about Mill, of course?" he said. + +"Yes," said Drummond. "Have you seen his study since it happened?" + +"Yes." + +Rand-Brown smiled, as if the recollection amused him. He was one of +those people who do not look their best when they smile. + +"Playing for the first tomorrow, Barry?" + +"I don't know," said Barry, shortly. "I haven't seen the list." + +He objected to the introduction of the topic. It is never pleasant to +have to discuss games with the very man one has ousted from the team. + +Drummond, too, seemed to feel that the situation was an embarrassing +one, for a few minutes later he got up to go over to the gymnasium. + +"Any of you chaps coming?" he asked. + +Barry and M'Todd thought they would, and the three left the room. + +"Nothing like showing a man you don't want him, eh, Bertie? What do you +think?" said Rand-Brown. + +Bertie grinned politely. + + + + +VI + +TREVOR REMAINS FIRM + + +The most immediate effect of telling anybody not to do a thing is to +make him do it, in order to assert his independence. Trevor's first act +on receipt of the letter was to include Barry in the team against the +Town. It was what he would have done in any case, but, under the +circumstances, he felt a peculiar pleasure in doing it. The incident +also had the effect of recalling to his mind the fact that he had tried +Barry in the first instance on his own responsibility, without +consulting the committee. The committee of the first fifteen consisted +of the two old colours who came immediately after the captain on the +list. The powers of a committee varied according to the determination +and truculence of the members of it. On any definite and important +step, affecting the welfare of the fifteen, the captain theoretically +could not move without their approval. But if the captain happened to +be strong-minded and the committee weak, they were apt to be slightly +out of it, and the captain would develop a habit of consulting them a +day or so after he had done a thing. He would give a man his colours, +and inform the committee of it on the following afternoon, when the +thing was done and could not be repealed. + +Trevor was accustomed to ask the advice of his lieutenants fairly +frequently. He never gave colours, for instance, off his own bat. It +seemed to him that it might be as well to learn what views Milton and +Allardyce had on the subject of Barry, and, after the Town team had +gone back across the river, defeated by a goal and a try to nil, he +changed and went over to Seymour's to interview Milton. + +Milton was in an arm-chair, watching Renford brew tea. His was one of +the few studies in the school in which there was an arm-chair. With the +majority of his contemporaries, it would only run to the portable kind +that fold up. + +"Come and have some tea, Trevor," said Milton. + +"Thanks. If there's any going." + +"Heaps. Is there anything to eat, Renford?" + +The fag, appealed to on this important point, pondered darkly for a +moment. + +"There _was_ some cake," he said. + +"That's all right," interrupted Milton, cheerfully. "Scratch the cake. +I ate it before the match. Isn't there anything else?" + +Milton had a healthy appetite. + +"Then there used to be some biscuits." + +"Biscuits are off. I finished 'em yesterday. Look here, young Renford, +what you'd better do is cut across to the shop and get some more cake +and some more biscuits, and tell 'em to put it down to me. And don't be +long." + +"A miles better idea would be to send him over to Donaldson's to fetch +something from my study," suggested Trevor. "It isn't nearly so far, +and I've got heaps of stuff." + +"Ripping. Cut over to Donaldson's, young Renford. As a matter of fact," +he added, confidentially, when the emissary had vanished, "I'm not half +sure that the other dodge would have worked. They seem to think at the +shop that I've had about enough things on tick lately. I haven't +settled up for last term yet. I've spent all I've got on this study. +What do you think of those photographs?" + + + +Trevor got up and inspected them. They filled the mantelpiece and most +of the wall above it. They were exclusively theatrical photographs, and +of a variety to suit all tastes. For the earnest student of the drama +there was Sir Henry Irving in _The Bells_, and Mr Martin Harvey in +_The Only Way._ For the admirers of the merely beautiful there +were Messrs Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell. + +"Not bad," said Trevor. "Beastly waste of money." + +"Waste of money!" Milton was surprised and pained at the criticism. +"Why, you must spend your money on _something."_ + +"Rot, I call it," said Trevor. "If you want to collect something, why +don't you collect something worth having?" + +Just then Renford came back with the supplies. + +"Thanks," said Milton, "put 'em down. Does the billy boil, young +Renford?" + +Renford asked for explanatory notes. + +"You're a bit of an ass at times, aren't you?" said Milton, kindly. +"What I meant was, is the tea ready? If it is, you can scoot. If it +isn't, buck up with it." + +A sound of bubbling and a rush of steam from the spout of the kettle +proclaimed that the billy did boil. Renford extinguished the Etna, and +left the room, while Milton, murmuring vague formulae about "one +spoonful for each person and one for the pot", got out of his chair +with a groan--for the Town match had been an energetic one--and began +to prepare tea. + +"What I really came round about--" began Trevor. + +"Half a second. I can't find the milk." + +He went to the door, and shouted for Renford. On that overworked +youth's appearance, the following dialogue took place. + +"Where's the milk?" + +"What milk?" + +"My milk." + +"There isn't any." This in a tone not untinged with triumph, as if the +speaker realised that here was a distinct score to him. + +"No milk?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"You never had any." + +"Well, just cut across--no, half a second. What are you doing +downstairs?" + +"Having tea." + +"Then you've got milk." + +"Only a little." This apprehensively. + +"Bring it up. You can have what we leave." + +Disgusted retirement of Master Renford. + +"What I really came about," said Trevor again, "was business." + +"Colours?" inquired Milton, rummaging in the tin for biscuits with +sugar on them. "Good brand of biscuit you keep, Trevor." + +"Yes. I think we might give Alexander and Parker their third." + +"All right. Any others?" + +"Barry his second, do you think?" + +"Rather. He played a good game today. He's an improvement on +Rand-Brown." + +"Glad you think so. I was wondering whether it was the right thing to +do, chucking Rand-Brown out after one trial like that. But still, if +you think Barry's better--" + +"Streets better. I've had heaps of chances of watching them and +comparing them, when they've been playing for the house. It isn't only +that Rand-Brown can't tackle, and Barry can. Barry takes his passes +much better, and doesn't lose his head when he's pressed." + +"Just what I thought," said Trevor. "Then you'd go on playing him for +the first?" + +"Rather. He'll get better every game, you'll see, as he gets more used +to playing in the first three-quarter line. And he's as keen as +anything on getting into the team. Practises taking passes and that +sort of thing every day." + +"Well, he'll get his colours if we lick Ripton." + +"We ought to lick them. They've lost one of their forwards, Clifford, a +red-haired chap, who was good out of touch. I don't know if you +remember him." + +"I suppose I ought to go and see Allardyce about these colours, now. +Good-bye." + +There was running and passing on the Monday for every one in the three +teams. Trevor and Clowes met Mr Seymour as they were returning. Mr +Seymour was the football master at Wrykyn. + +"I see you've given Barry his second, Trevor." + +"Yes, sir." + +"I think you're wise to play him for the first. He knows the game, +which is the great thing, and he will improve with practice," said Mr +Seymour, thus corroborating Milton's words of the previous Saturday. + +"I'm glad Seymour thinks Barry good," said Trevor, as they walked on. +"I shall go on playing him now." + +"Found out who wrote that letter yet?" + +Trevor laughed. + +"Not yet," he said. + +"Probably Rand-Brown," suggested Clowes. "He's the man who would gain +most by Barry's not playing. I hear he had a row with Mill just before +his study was ragged." + +"Everybody in Seymour's has had rows with Mill some time or other," +said Trevor. + +Clowes stopped at the door of the junior day-room to find his fag. +Trevor went on upstairs. In the passage he met Ruthven. + +Ruthven seemed excited. + +"I say. Trevor," he exclaimed, "have you seen your study?" + +"Why, what's the matter with it?" + +"You'd better go and look." + + + + +VII + +"WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE" + + +Trevor went and looked. + +It was rather an interesting sight. An earthquake or a cyclone might +have made it a little more picturesque, but not much more. The general +effect was not unlike that of an American saloon, after a visit from +Mrs Carrie Nation (with hatchet). As in the case of Mill's study, the +only thing that did not seem to have suffered any great damage was the +table. Everything else looked rather off colour. The mantelpiece had +been swept as bare as a bone, and its contents littered the floor. +Trevor dived among the debris and retrieved the latest addition to his +art gallery, the photograph of this year's first fifteen. It was a +wreck. The glass was broken and the photograph itself slashed with a +knife till most of the faces were unrecognisable. He picked up another +treasure, last year's first eleven. Smashed glass again. Faces cut +about with knife as before. His collection of snapshots was torn into a +thousand fragments, though, as Mr Jerome said of the papier-mache +trout, there may only have been nine hundred. He did not count +them. His bookshelf was empty. The books had gone to swell the +contents of the floor. There was a Shakespeare with its cover off. +Pages twenty-two to thirty-one of _Vice Versa_ had parted from the +parent establishment, and were lying by themselves near the door. _The +Rogues' March_ lay just beyond them, and the look of the cover +suggested that somebody had either been biting it or jumping on it with +heavy boots. + +There was other damage. Over the mantelpiece in happier days had hung a +dozen sea gulls' eggs, threaded on a string. The string was still +there, as good as new, but of the eggs nothing was to be seen, save a +fine parti-coloured powder--on the floor, like everything else in the +study. And a good deal of ink had been upset in one place and another. + +Trevor had been staring at the ruins for some time, when he looked up +to see Clowes standing in the doorway. + +"Hullo," said Clowes, "been tidying up?" + +Trevor made a few hasty comments on the situation. Clowes listened +approvingly. + +"Don't you think," he went on, eyeing the study with a critical air, +"that you've got too many things on the floor, and too few anywhere +else? And I should move some of those books on to the shelf, if I were +you." + +Trevor breathed very hard. + +"I should like to find the chap who did this," he said softly. + +Clowes advanced into the room and proceeded to pick up various +misplaced articles of furniture in a helpful way. + +"I thought so," he said presently, "come and look here." + +Tied to a chair, exactly as it had been in the case of Mill, was a neat +white card, and on it were the words, _"With the Compliments of the +League"._ + +"What are you going to do about this?" asked Clowes. "Come into my room +and talk it over." + +"I'll tidy this place up first," said Trevor. He felt that the work +would be a relief. "I don't want people to see this. It mustn't get +about. I'm not going to have my study turned into a sort of side-show, +like Mill's. You go and change. I shan't be long." + +"I will never desert Mr Micawber," said Clowes. "Friend, my place is by +your side. Shut the door and let's get to work." + +Ten minutes later the room had resumed a more or less--though +principally less--normal appearance. The books and chairs were back in +their places. The ink was sopped up. The broken photographs were +stacked in a neat pile in one corner, with a rug over them. The +mantelpiece was still empty, but, as Clowes pointed out, it now merely +looked as if Trevor had been pawning some of his household gods. There +was no sign that a devastating secret society had raged through the +study. + +Then they adjourned to Clowes' study, where Trevor sank into Clowes' +second-best chair--Clowes, by an adroit movement, having appropriated +the best one--with a sigh of enjoyment. Running and passing, followed +by the toil of furniture-shifting, had made him feel quite tired. + +"It doesn't look so bad now," he said, thinking of the room they had +left. "By the way, what did you do with that card?" + +"Here it is. Want it?" + +"You can keep it. I don't want it." + +"Thanks. If this sort of things goes on, I shall get quite a nice +collection of these cards. Start an album some day." + +"You know," said Trevor, "this is getting serious." + +"It always does get serious when anything bad happens to one's self. It +always strikes one as rather funny when things happen to other people. +When Mill's study was wrecked, I bet you regarded it as an amusing and +original 'turn'. What do you think of the present effort?" + +"Who on earth can have done it?" + +"The Pres--" + +"Oh, dry up. Of course it was. But who the blazes is he?" + +"Nay, children, you have me there," quoted Clowes. "I'll tell you one +thing, though. You remember what I said about it's probably being +Rand-Brown. He can't have done this, that's certain, because he was +out in the fields the whole time. Though I don't see who else could +have anything to gain by Barry not getting his colours." + +"There's no reason to suspect him at all, as far as I can see. I don't +know much about him, bar the fact that he can't play footer for nuts, +but I've never heard anything against him. Have you?" + +"I scarcely know him myself. He isn't liked in Seymour's, I believe." + +"Well, anyhow, this can't be his work." + +"That's what I said." + +"For all we know, the League may have got their knife into Barry for +some reason. You said they used to get their knife into fellows in that +way. Anyhow, I mean to find out who ragged my room." + +"It wouldn't be a bad idea," said Clowes. + + * * * * * + +O'Hara came round to Donaldson's before morning school next day to tell +Trevor that he had not yet succeeded in finding the lost bat. He found +Trevor and Clowes in the former's den, trying to put a few finishing +touches to the same. + +"Hullo, an' what's up with your study?" he inquired. He was quick at +noticing things. Trevor looked annoyed. Clowes asked the visitor if he +did not think the study presented a neat and gentlemanly appearance. + +"Where are all your photographs, Trevor?" persisted the descendant of +Irish kings. + +"It's no good trying to conceal anything from the bhoy," said Clowes. +"Sit down, O'Hara--mind that chair; it's rather wobbly--and I will tell +ye the story." + +"Can you keep a thing dark?" inquired Trevor. + +O'Hara protested that tombs were not in it. + +"Well, then, do you remember what happened to Mill's study? That's +what's been going on here." + +O'Hara nearly fell off his chair with surprise. That some +philanthropist should rag Mill's study was only to be expected. Mill +was one of the worst. A worm without a saving grace. But Trevor! +Captain of football! In the first eleven! The thing was unthinkable. + +"But who--?" he began. + +"That's just what I want to know," said Trevor, shortly. He did not +enjoy discussing the affair. + +"How long have you been at Wrykyn, O'Hara?" said Clowes. + +O'Hara made a rapid calculation. His fingers twiddled in the air as he +worked out the problem. + +"Six years," he said at last, leaning back exhausted with brain work. + +"Then you must remember the League?" + +"Remember the League? Rather." + +"Well, it's been revived." + +O'Hara whistled. + +"This'll liven the old place up," he said. "I've often thought of +reviving it meself. An' so has Moriarty. If it's anything like the Old +League, there's going to be a sort of Donnybrook before it's done with. +I wonder who's running it this time." + +"We should like to know that. If you find out, you might tell us." + +"I will." + +"And don't tell anybody else," said Trevor. "This business has got to +be kept quiet. Keep it dark about my study having been ragged." + +"I won't tell a soul." + +"Not even Moriarty." + +"Oh, hang it, man," put in Clowes, "you don't want to kill the poor +bhoy, surely? You must let him tell one person." + +"All right," said Trevor, "you can tell Moriarty. But nobody else, +mind." + +O'Hara promised that Moriarty should receive the news exclusively. + +"But why did the League go for ye?" + +"They happen to be down on me. It doesn't matter why. They are." + +"I see," said O'Hara. "Oh," he added, "about that bat. The search is +being 'vigorously prosecuted'--that's a newspaper quotation--" + +"Times?" inquired Clowes. + +"_Wrykyn Patriot_," said O'Hara, pulling out a bundle of letters. +He inspected each envelope in turn, and from the fifth extracted a +newspaper cutting. + +"Read that," he said. + +It was from the local paper, and ran as follows:-- + +"_Hooligan Outrage_--A painful sensation has been caused in the +town by a deplorable ebullition of local Hooliganism, which has +resulted in the wanton disfigurement of the splendid statue of Sir +Eustace Briggs which stands in the New Recreation Grounds. Our readers +will recollect that the statue was erected to commemorate the return of +Sir Eustace as member for the borough of Wrykyn, by an overwhelming +majority, at the last election. Last Tuesday some youths of the town, +passing through the Recreation Grounds early in the morning, noticed +that the face and body of the statue were completely covered with +leaves and some black substance, which on examination proved to be tar. +They speedily lodged information at the police station. Everything +seems to point to party spite as the motive for the outrage. In view of +the forth-coming election, such an act is highly significant, and will +serve sufficiently to indicate the tactics employed by our opponents. +The search for the perpetrator (or perpetrators) of the dastardly act +is being vigorously prosecuted, and we learn with satisfaction that the +police have already several clues." + +"Clues!" said Clowes, handing back the paper, "that means _the +bat_. That gas about 'our opponents' is all a blind to put you off +your guard. You wait. There'll be more painful sensations before you've +finished with this business." + +"They can't have found the bat, or why did they not say so?" observed +O'Hara. + +"Guile," said Clowes, "pure guile. If I were you, I should escape while +I could. Try Callao. There's no extradition there. + + 'On no petition + Is extradition + Allowed in Callao.' + +Either of you chaps coming over to school?" + + + + +VIII + +O'HARA ON THE TRACK + + +Tuesday mornings at Wrykyn were devoted--up to the quarter to eleven +interval--to the study of mathematics. That is to say, instead of going +to their form-rooms, the various forms visited the out-of-the-way nooks +and dens at the top of the buildings where the mathematical masters +were wont to lurk, and spent a pleasant two hours there playing round +games or reading fiction under the desk. Mathematics being one of the +few branches of school learning which are of any use in after life, +nobody ever dreamed of doing any work in that direction, least of all +O'Hara. It was a theory of O'Hara's that he came to school to enjoy +himself. To have done any work during a mathematics lesson would have +struck him as a positive waste of time, especially as he was in Mr +Banks' class. Mr Banks was a master who simply cried out to be ragged. +Everything he did and said seemed to invite the members of his class to +amuse themselves, and they amused themselves accordingly. One of the +advantages of being under him was that it was possible to predict to a +nicety the moment when one would be sent out of the room. This was +found very convenient. + +O'Hara's ally, Moriarty, was accustomed to take his mathematics with Mr +Morgan, whose room was directly opposite Mr Banks'. With Mr Morgan it +was not quite so easy to date one's expulsion from the room under +ordinary circumstances, and in the normal wear and tear of the +morning's work, but there was one particular action which could always +be relied upon to produce the desired result. + +In one corner of the room stood a gigantic globe. The problem--how did +it get into the room?--was one that had exercised the minds of many +generations of Wrykinians. It was much too big to have come through the +door. Some thought that the block had been built round it, others that +it had been placed in the room in infancy, and had since grown. To +refer the question to Mr Morgan would, in six cases out of ten, mean +instant departure from the room. But to make the event certain, it was +necessary to grasp the globe firmly and spin it round on its axis. That +always proved successful. Mr Morgan would dash down from his dais, +address the offender in spirited terms, and give him his marching +orders at once and without further trouble. + +Moriarty had arranged with O'Hara to set the globe rolling at ten sharp +on this particular morning. O'Hara would then so arrange matters with +Mr Banks that they could meet in the passage at that hour, when O'Hara +wished to impart to his friend his information concerning the League. + +O'Hara promised to be at the trysting-place at the hour mentioned. + +He did not think there would be any difficulty about it. The news that +the League had been revived meant that there would be trouble in the +very near future, and the prospect of trouble was meat and drink to the +Irishman in O'Hara. Consequently he felt in particularly good form for +mathematics (as he interpreted the word). He thought that he would have +no difficulty whatever in keeping Mr Banks bright and amused. The first +step had to be to arouse in him an interest in life, to bring him into +a frame of mind which would induce him to look severely rather than +leniently on the next offender. This was effected as follows:-- + +It was Mr Banks' practice to set his class sums to work out, and, after +some three-quarters of an hour had elapsed, to pass round the form what +he called "solutions". These were large sheets of paper, on which he +had worked out each sum in his neat handwriting to a happy ending. When +the head of the form, to whom they were passed first, had finished with +them, he would make a slight tear in one corner, and, having done so, +hand them on to his neighbour. The neighbour, before giving them to +_his_ neighbour, would also tear them slightly. In time they would +return to their patentee and proprietor, and it was then that things +became exciting. + +"Who tore these solutions like this?" asked Mr Banks, in the repressed +voice of one who is determined that he _will_ be calm. + +No answer. The tattered solutions waved in the air. + +He turned to Harringay, the head of the form. + +"Harringay, did you tear these solutions like this?" + +Indignant negative from Harringay. What he had done had been to make +the small tear in the top left-hand corner. If Mr Banks had asked, "Did +you make this small tear in the top left-hand corner of these +solutions?" Harringay would have scorned to deny the impeachment. But +to claim the credit for the whole work would, he felt, be an act of +flat dishonesty, and an injustice to his gifted _collaborateurs._ + +"No, sir," said Harringay. + +"Browne!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"Did you tear these solutions in this manner?" + +"No, sir." + +And so on through the form. + +Then Harringay rose after the manner of the debater who is conscious +that he is going to say the popular thing. + +"Sir--" he began. + +"Sit down, Harringay." + +Harringay gracefully waved aside the absurd command. + +"Sir," he said, "I think I am expressing the general consensus of +opinion among my--ahem--fellow-students, when I say that this class +sincerely regrets the unfortunate state the solutions have managed to +get themselves into." + +"Hear, hear!" from a back bench. + +"It is with--" + +"Sit _down_, Harringay." + +"It is with heartfelt--" + +"Harringay, if you do not sit down--" + +"As your ludship pleases." This _sotto voce_. + +And Harringay resumed his seat amidst applause. O'Hara got up. + +"As me frind who has just sat down was about to observe--" + +"Sit down, O'Hara. The whole form will remain after the class." + +"--the unfortunate state the solutions have managed to get thimsilves +into is sincerely regretted by this class. Sir, I think I am ixprissing +the general consensus of opinion among my fellow-students whin I say +that it is with heart-felt sorrow--" + +"O'Hara!" + +"Yes, sir?" + +"Leave the room instantly." + +"Yes, sir." + +From the tower across the gravel came the melodious sound of chimes. +The college clock was beginning to strike ten. He had scarcely got into +the passage, and closed the door after him, when a roar as of a +bereaved spirit rang through the room opposite, followed by a string of +words, the only intelligible one being the noun-substantive "globe", +and the next moment the door opened and Moriarty came out. The last +stroke of ten was just booming from the clock. + +There was a large cupboard in the passage, the top of which made a very +comfortable seat. They climbed on to this, and began to talk business. + +"An' what was it ye wanted to tell me?" inquired Moriarty. + +O'Hara related what he had learned from Trevor that morning. + +"An' do ye know," said Moriarty, when he had finished, "I half +suspected, when I heard that Mill's study had been ragged, that it +might be the League that had done it. If ye remember, it was what they +enjoyed doing, breaking up a man's happy home. They did it frequently." + +"But I can't understand them doing it to Trevor at all." + +"They'll do it to anybody they choose till they're caught at it." + +"If they are caught, there'll be a row." + +"We must catch 'em," said Moriarty. Like O'Hara, he revelled in the +prospect of a disturbance. O'Hara and he were going up to Aldershot at +the end of the term, to try and bring back the light and middle-weight +medals respectively. Moriarty had won the light-weight in the previous +year, but, by reason of putting on a stone since the competition, was +now no longer eligible for that class. O'Hara had not been up before, +but the Wrykyn instructor, a good judge of pugilistic form, was of +opinion that he ought to stand an excellent chance. As the prize-fighter +in _Rodney Stone_ says, "When you get a good Irishman, you can't +better 'em, but they're dreadful 'asty." O'Hara was attending the +gymnasium every night, in order to learn to curb his "dreadful +'astiness", and acquire skill in its place. + +"I wonder if Trevor would be any good in a row," said Moriarty. + +"He can't box," said O'Hara, "but he'd go on till he was killed +entirely. I say, I'm getting rather tired of sitting here, aren't you? +Let's go to the other end of the passage and have some cricket." + +So, having unearthed a piece of wood from the debris at the top of the +cupboard, and rolled a handkerchief into a ball, they adjourned. + +Recalling the stirring events of six years back, when the League had +first been started, O'Hara remembered that the members of that +enterprising society had been wont to hold meetings in a secluded spot, +where it was unlikely that they would be disturbed. It seemed to him +that the first thing he ought to do, if he wanted to make their nearer +acquaintance now, was to find their present rendezvous. They must have +one. They would never run the risk involved in holding mass-meetings in +one another's studies. On the last occasion, it had been an old quarry +away out on the downs. This had been proved by the not-to-be-shaken +testimony of three school-house fags, who had wandered out one +half-holiday with the unconcealed intention of finding the League's +place of meeting. Unfortunately for them, they _had_ found it. +They were going down the path that led to the quarry before-mentioned, +when they were unexpectedly seized, blindfolded, and carried off. An +impromptu court-martial was held--in whispers--and the three explorers +forthwith received the most spirited "touching-up" they had ever +experienced. Afterwards they were released, and returned to their house +with their zeal for detection quite quenched. The episode had created a +good deal of excitement in the school at the time. + +On three successive afternoons, O'Hara and Moriarty scoured the downs, +and on each occasion they drew blank. On the fourth day, just before +lock-up, O'Hara, who had been to tea with Gregson, of Day's, was +going over to the gymnasium to keep a pugilistic appointment with +Moriarty, when somebody ran swiftly past him in the direction of the +boarding-houses. It was almost dark, for the days were still short, +and he did not recognise the runner. But it puzzled him a little to +think where he had sprung from. O'Hara was walking quite close to the +wall of the College buildings, and the runner had passed between it and +him. And he had not heard his footsteps. Then he understood, and his +pulse quickened as he felt that he was on the track. Beneath the block +was a large sort of cellar-basement. It was used as a store-room for +chairs, and was never opened except when prize-day or some similar event +occurred, when the chairs were needed. It was supposed to be locked at +other times, but never was. The door was just by the spot where he was +standing. As he stood there, half-a-dozen other vague forms dashed past +him in a knot. One of them almost brushed against him. For a moment he +thought of stopping him, but decided not to. He could wait. + +On the following afternoon he slipped down into the basement soon after +school. It was as black as pitch in the cellar. He took up a position +near the door. + +It seemed hours before anything happened. He was, indeed, almost giving +up the thing as a bad job, when a ray of light cut through the +blackness in front of him, and somebody slipped through the door. The +next moment, a second form appeared dimly, and then the light was shut +off again. + +O'Hara could hear them groping their way past him. He waited no longer. +It is difficult to tell where sound comes from in the dark. He plunged +forward at a venture. His hand, swinging round in a semicircle, met +something which felt like a shoulder. He slipped his grasp down to the +arm, and clutched it with all the force at his disposal. + + + + +IX + +MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS + + +"Ow!" exclaimed the captive, with no uncertain voice. "Let go, you ass, +you're hurting." + +The voice was a treble voice. This surprised O'Hara. It looked very +much as if he had put up the wrong bird. From the dimensions of the arm +which he was holding, his prisoner seemed to be of tender years. + +"Let go, Harvey, you idiot. I shall kick." + +Before the threat could be put into execution, O'Hara, who had been +fumbling all this while in his pocket for a match, found one loose, and +struck a light. The features of the owner of the arm--he was still +holding it--were lit up for a moment. + +"Why, it's young Renford!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing down +here?" + +Renford, however, continued to pursue the topic of his arm, and the +effect that the vice-like grip of the Irishman had had upon it. + +"You've nearly broken it," he said, complainingly. + +"I'm sorry. I mistook you for somebody else. Who's that with you?" + +"It's me," said an ungrammatical voice. + +"Who's me?" + +"Harvey." + +At this point a soft yellow light lit up the more immediate +neighbourhood. Harvey had brought a bicycle lamp into action. + +"That's more like it," said Renford. "Look here, O'Hara, you won't +split, will you?" + +"I'm not an informer by profession, thanks," said O'Hara. + +"Oh, I know it's all right, really, but you can't be too careful, +because one isn't allowed down here, and there'd be a beastly row if it +got out about our being down here." + +"And _they_ would be cobbed," put in Harvey. + +"Who are they?" asked O'Hara. + +"Ferrets. Like to have a look at them?" + +"_Ferrets!_" + +"Yes. Harvey brought back a couple at the beginning of term. Ripping +little beasts. We couldn't keep them in the house, as they'd have got +dropped on in a second, so we had to think of somewhere else, and +thought why not keep them down here?" + +"Why, indeed?" said O'Hara. "Do ye find they like it?" + +"Oh, _they_ don't mind," said Harvey. "We feed 'em twice a day. +Once before breakfast--we take it in turns to get up early--and once +directly after school. And on half-holidays and Sundays we take them +out on to the downs." + +"What for?" + +"Why, rabbits, of course. Renford brought back a saloon-pistol with +him. We keep it locked up in a box--don't tell any one." + +"And what do ye do with the rabbits?" + +"We pot at them as they come out of the holes." + +"Yes, but when ye hit 'em?" + +"Oh," said Renford, with some reluctance, "we haven't exactly hit any +yet." + +"We've got jolly near, though, lots of times," said Harvey. "Last +Saturday I swear I wasn't more than a quarter of an inch off one of +them. If it had been a decent-sized rabbit, I should have plugged it +middle stump; only it was a small one, so I missed. But come and see +them. We keep 'em right at the other end of the place, in case anybody +comes in." + +"Have you ever seen anybody down here?" asked O'Hara. + +"Once," said Renford. "Half-a-dozen chaps came down here once while we +were feeding the ferrets. We waited till they'd got well in, then we +nipped out quietly. They didn't see us." + +"Did you see who they were?" + +"No. It was too dark. Here they are. Rummy old crib this, isn't it? +Look out for your shins on the chairs. Switch on the light, Harvey. +There, aren't they rippers? Quite tame, too. They know us quite well. +They know they're going to be fed, too. Hullo, Sir Nigel! This is Sir +Nigel. Out of the 'White Company', you know. Don't let him nip your +fingers. This other one's Sherlock Holmes." + +"Cats-s-s--s!!" said O'Hara. He had a sort of idea that that was the +right thing to say to any animal that could chase and bite. + +Renford was delighted to be able to show his ferrets off to so +distinguished a visitor. + +"What were you down here about?" inquired Harvey, when the little +animals had had their meal, and had retired once more into private +life. + +O'Hara had expected this question, but he did not quite know what +answer to give. Perhaps, on the whole, he thought, it would be best to +tell them the real reason. If he refused to explain, their curiosity +would be roused, which would be fatal. And to give any reason except +the true one called for a display of impromptu invention of which he +was not capable. Besides, they would not be likely to give away his +secret while he held this one of theirs connected with the ferrets. He +explained the situation briefly, and swore them to silence on the +subject. + +Renford's comment was brief. + +"By Jove!" he observed. + +Harvey went more deeply into the question. + +"What makes you think they meet down here?" he asked. + +"I saw some fellows cutting out of here last night. And you say ye've +seen them here, too. I don't see what object they could have down here +if they weren't the League holding a meeting. I don't see what else a +chap would be after." + +"He might be keeping ferrets," hazarded Renford. + +"The whole school doesn't keep ferrets," said O'Hara. "You're unique in +that way. No, it must be the League, an' I mean to wait here till they +come." + +"Not all night?" asked Harvey. He had a great respect for O'Hara, whose +reputation in the school for out-of-the-way doings was considerable. In +the bright lexicon of O'Hara he believed there to be no such word as +"impossible." + +"No," said O'Hara, "but till lock-up. You two had better cut now." + +"Yes, I think we'd better," said Harvey. + +"And don't ye breathe a word about this to a soul"--a warning which +extracted fervent promises of silence from both youths. + +"This," said Harvey, as they emerged on to the gravel, "is something +like. I'm jolly glad we're in it." + + + +"Rather. Do you think O'Hara will catch them?" + +"He must if he waits down there long enough. They're certain to come +again. Don't you wish you'd been here when the League was on before?" + +"I should think I did. Race you over to the shop. I want to get +something before it shuts." + +"Right ho!" And they disappeared. + +O'Hara waited where he was till six struck from the clock-tower, +followed by the sound of the bell as it rang for lock-up. Then he +picked his way carefully through the groves of chairs, barking his +shins now and then on their out-turned legs, and, pushing open the +door, went out into the open air. It felt very fresh and pleasant after +the brand of atmosphere supplied in the vault. He then ran over to the +gymnasium to meet Moriarty, feeling a little disgusted at the lack of +success that had attended his detective efforts up to the present. So +far he had nothing to show for his trouble except a good deal of dust +on his clothes, and a dirty collar, but he was full of determination. +He could play a waiting game. + +It was a pity, as it happened, that O'Hara left the vault when he did. +Five minutes after he had gone, six shadowy forms made their way +silently and in single file through the doorway of the vault, which +they closed carefully behind them. The fact that it was after lock-up +was of small consequence. A good deal of latitude in that way was +allowed at Wrykyn. It was the custom to go out, after the bell had +sounded, to visit the gymnasium. In the winter and Easter terms, the +gymnasium became a sort of social club. People went there with a very +small intention of doing gymnastics. They went to lounge about, talking +to cronies, in front of the two huge stoves which warmed the place. +Occasionally, as a concession to the look of the thing, they would do +an easy exercise or two on the horse or parallels, but, for the most +part, they preferred the _role_ of spectator. There was plenty to +see. In one corner O'Hara and Moriarty would be sparring their nightly +six rounds (in two batches of three rounds each). In another, Drummond, +who was going up to Aldershot as a feather-weight, would be putting in +a little practice with the instructor. On the apparatus, the members of +the gymnastic six, including the two experts who were to carry the +school colours to Aldershot in the spring, would be performing their +usual marvels. It was worth dropping into the gymnasium of an evening. +In no other place in the school were so many sights to be seen. + +When you were surfeited with sightseeing, you went off to your house. +And this was where the peculiar beauty of the gymnasium system came in. +You went up to any master who happened to be there--there was always +one at least--and observed in suave accents, "Please, sir, can I have a +paper?" Whereupon, he, taking a scrap of paper, would write upon it, +"J. O. Jones (or A. B. Smith or C. D. Robinson) left gymnasium at +such-and-such a time". And, by presenting this to the menial who +opened the door to you at your house, you went in rejoicing, and all +was peace. + +Now, there was no mention on the paper of the hour at which you came to +the gymnasium--only of the hour at which you left. Consequently, certain +lawless spirits would range the neighbourhood after lock-up, and, by +putting in a quarter of an hour at the gymnasium before returning to +their houses, escape comment. To this class belonged the shadowy forms +previously mentioned. + +O'Hara had forgotten this custom, with the result that he was not at +the vault when they arrived. Moriarty, to whom he confided between the +rounds the substance of his evening's discoveries, reminded him of it. +"It's no good watching before lock-up," he said. "After six is the time +they'll come, if they come at all." + +"Bedad, ye're right," said O'Hara. "One of these nights we'll take a +night off from boxing, and go and watch." + +"Right," said Moriarty. "Are ye ready to go on?" + +"Yes. I'm going to practise that left swing at the body this round. The +one Fitzsimmons does." And they "put 'em up" once more. + + + + +X + +BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS + + +On the evening following O'Hara's adventure in the vaults, Barry and +M'Todd were in their study, getting out the tea-things. Most Wrykinians +brewed in the winter and Easter terms, when the days were short and +lock-up early. In the summer term there were other things to do--nets, +which lasted till a quarter to seven (when lock-up was), and the +baths--and brewing practically ceased. But just now it was at its height, +and every evening, at a quarter past five, there might be heard in the +houses the sizzling of the succulent sausage and other rare delicacies. +As a rule, one or two studies would club together to brew, instead of +preparing solitary banquets. This was found both more convivial and +more economical. At Seymour's, studies numbers five, six, and seven had +always combined from time immemorial, and Barry, on obtaining study +six, had carried on the tradition. In study five were Drummond and his +friend De Bertini. In study seven, which was a smaller room and only +capable of holding one person with any comfort, one James Rupert +Leather-Twigg (that was his singular name, as Mr Gilbert has it) had +taken up his abode. The name of Leather-Twigg having proved, at an +early date in his career, too great a mouthful for Wrykyn, he was known +to his friends and acquaintances by the euphonious title of +Shoeblossom. The charm about the genial Shoeblossom was that you could +never tell what he was going to do next. All that you could rely on +with any certainty was that it would be something which would have been +better left undone. + +It was just five o'clock when Barry and M'Todd started to get things +ready. They were not high enough up in the school to have fags, so that +they had to do this for themselves. + +Barry was still in football clothes. He had been out running and +passing with the first fifteen. M'Todd, whose idea of exercise was +winding up a watch, had been spending his time since school ceased in +the study with a book. He was in his ordinary clothes. It was therefore +fortunate that, when he upset the kettle (he nearly always did at some +period of the evening's business), the contents spread themselves over +Barry, and not over himself. Football clothes will stand any amount of +water, whereas M'Todd's "Youth's winter suiting at forty-two shillings +and sixpence" might have been injured. Barry, however, did not look +upon the episode in this philosophical light. He spoke to him +eloquently for a while, and then sent him downstairs to fetch more +water. While he was away, Drummond and De Bertini came in. + +"Hullo," said Drummond, "tea ready?" + +"Not much," replied Barry, bitterly, "not likely to be, either, at this +rate. We'd just got the kettle going when that ass M'Todd plunged +against the table and upset the lot over my bags. Lucky the beastly +stuff wasn't boiling. I'm soaked." + +"While we wait--the sausages--Yes?--a good idea--M'Todd, he is +downstairs--but to wait? No, no. Let us. Shall we? Is it not so? Yes?" +observed Bertie, lucidly. + +"Now construe," said Barry, looking at the linguist with a bewildered +expression. It was a source of no little inconvenience to his friends +that De Bertini was so very fixed in his determination to speak +English. He was a trier all the way, was De Bertini. You rarely caught +him helping out his remarks with the language of his native land. It +was English or nothing with him. To most of his circle it might as well +have been Zulu. + +Drummond, either through natural genius or because he spent more time +with him, was generally able to act as interpreter. Occasionally there +would come a linguistic effort by which even he freely confessed +himself baffled, and then they would pass on unsatisfied. But, as a +rule, he was equal to the emergency. He was so now. + +"What Bertie means," he explained, "is that it's no good us waiting for +M'Todd to come back. He never could fill a kettle in less than ten +minutes, and even then he's certain to spill it coming upstairs and +have to go back again. Let's get on with the sausages." + +The pan had just been placed on the fire when M'Todd returned with the +water. He tripped over the mat as he entered, and spilt about half a +pint into one of his football boots, which stood inside the door, but +the accident was comparatively trivial, and excited no remark. + +"I wonder where that slacker Shoeblossom has got to," said Barry. "He +never turns up in time to do any work. He seems to regard himself as a +beastly guest. I wish we could finish the sausages before he comes. It +would be a sell for him." + +"Not much chance of that," said Drummond, who was kneeling before the +fire and keeping an excited eye on the spluttering pan, "_you_ +see. He'll come just as we've finished cooking them. I believe the man +waits outside with his ear to the keyhole. Hullo! Stand by with the +plate. They'll be done in half a jiffy." + +Just as the last sausage was deposited in safety on the plate, the door +opened, and Shoeblossom, looking as if he had not brushed his hair +since early childhood, sidled in with an attempt at an easy nonchalance +which was rendered quite impossible by the hopeless state of his +conscience. + +"Ah," he said, "brewing, I see. Can I be of any use?" + +"We've finished years ago," said Barry. + +"Ages ago," said M'Todd. + +A look of intense alarm appeared on Shoeblossom's classical features. + +"You've not finished, really?" + +"We've finished cooking everything," said Drummond. "We haven't begun +tea yet. Now, are you happy?" + +Shoeblossom was. So happy that he felt he must do something to +celebrate the occasion. He felt like a successful general. There must +be _something_ he could do to show that he regarded the situation +with approval. He looked round the study. Ha! Happy thought--the +frying-pan. That useful culinary instrument was lying in the fender, +still bearing its cargo of fat, and beside it--a sight to stir the +blood and make the heart beat faster--were the sausages, piled up on +their plate. + +Shoeblossom stooped. He seized the frying-pan. He gave it one twirl in +the air. Then, before any one could stop him, he had turned it upside +down over the fire. As has been already remarked, you could never +predict exactly what James Rupert Leather-Twigg would be up to next. + +When anything goes out of the frying-pan into the fire, it is usually +productive of interesting by-products. The maxim applies to fat. The +fat was in the fire with a vengeance. A great sheet of flame rushed out +and up. Shoeblossom leaped back with a readiness highly creditable in +one who was not a professional acrobat. The covering of the mantelpiece +caught fire. The flames went roaring up the chimney. + +Drummond, cool while everything else was so hot, without a word moved +to the mantelpiece to beat out the fire with a football shirt. Bertie +was talking rapidly to himself in French. Nobody could understand what +he was saying, which was possibly fortunate. + +By the time Drummond had extinguished the mantelpiece, Barry had also +done good work by knocking the fire into the grate with the poker. +M'Todd, who had been standing up till now in the far corner of the +room, gaping vaguely at things in general, now came into action. +Probably it was force of habit that suggested to him that the time had +come to upset the kettle. At any rate, upset it he did--most of it over +the glowing, blazing mass in the grate, the rest over Barry. One of the +largest and most detestable smells the study had ever had to endure +instantly assailed their nostrils. The fire in the study was out now, +but in the chimney it still blazed merrily. + +"Go up on to the roof and heave water down," said Drummond, the +strategist. "You can get out from Milton's dormitory window. And take +care not to chuck it down the wrong chimney." + +Barry was starting for the door to carry out these excellent +instructions, when it flew open. + +"Pah! What have you boys been doing? What an abominable smell. Pah!" +said a muffled voice. It was Mr Seymour. Most of his face was concealed +in a large handkerchief, but by the look of his eyes, which appeared +above, he did not seem pleased. He took in the situation at a glance. +Fires in the house were not rarities. One facetious sportsman had once +made a rule of setting the senior day-room chimney on fire every term. +He had since left (by request), but fires still occurred. + +"Is the chimney on fire?" + +"Yes, sir," said Drummond. + +"Go and find Herbert, and tell him to take some water on to the roof +and throw it down." Herbert was the boot and knife cleaner at +Seymour's. + +Barry went. Soon afterwards a splash of water in the grate announced +that the intrepid Herbert was hard at it. Another followed, and +another. Then there was a pause. Mr Seymour thought he would look up to +see if the fire was out. He stooped and peered into the darkness, and, +even as he gazed, splash came the contents of the fourth pail, together +with some soot with which they had formed a travelling acquaintance on +the way down. Mr Seymour staggered back, grimy and dripping. There was +dead silence in the study. Shoeblossom's face might have been seen +working convulsively. + +The silence was broken by a hollow, sepulchral voice with a strong +Cockney accent. + +"Did yer see any water come down then, sir?" said the voice. + +Shoeblossom collapsed into a chair, and began to sob feebly. + + * * * * * + +"--disgraceful ... scandalous ... get _up_, Leather-Twigg ... not to +be trusted ... _babies_ ... three hundred lines, Leather-Twigg ... +abominable ... surprised ... ought to be ashamed of yourselves ... +_double_, Leather-Twigg ... not fit to have studies ... atrocious ...--" + +Such were the main heads of Mr Seymour's speech on the situation as he +dabbed desperately at the soot on his face with his handkerchief. +Shoeblossom stood and gurgled throughout. Not even the thought of six +hundred lines could quench that dauntless spirit. + +"Finally," perorated Mr Seymour, as he was leaving the room, "as you +are evidently not to be trusted with rooms of your own, I forbid you to +enter them till further notice. It is disgraceful that such a thing +should happen. Do you hear, Barry? And you, Drummond? You are not to +enter your studies again till I give you leave. Move your books down to +the senior day-room tonight." + +And Mr Seymour stalked off to clean himself. + +"Anyhow," said Shoeblossom, as his footsteps died away, "we saved the +sausages." + +It is this indomitable gift of looking on the bright side that makes us +Englishmen what we are. + + + + +XI + +THE HOUSE-MATCHES + + +It was something of a consolation to Barry and his friends--at any +rate, to Barry and Drummond--that directly after they had been evicted +from their study, the house-matches began. Except for the Ripton match, +the house-matches were the most important event of the Easter term. +Even the sports at the beginning of April were productive of less +excitement. There were twelve houses at Wrykyn, and they played on the +"knocking-out" system. To be beaten once meant that a house was no +longer eligible for the competition. It could play "friendlies" as much +as it liked, but, play it never so wisely, it could not lift the cup. +Thus it often happened that a weak house, by fluking a victory over a +strong rival, found itself, much to its surprise, in the semi-final, or +sometimes even in the final. This was rarer at football than at +cricket, for at football the better team generally wins. + +The favourites this year were Donaldson's, though some fancied +Seymour's. Donaldson's had Trevor, whose leadership was worth almost +more than his play. In no other house was training so rigid. You could +tell a Donaldson's man, if he was in his house-team, at a glance. If +you saw a man eating oatmeal biscuits in the shop, and eyeing wistfully +the while the stacks of buns and pastry, you could put him down as a +Donaldsonite without further evidence. The captains of the other houses +used to prescribe a certain amount of self-abnegation in the matter of +food, but Trevor left his men barely enough to support life--enough, +that is, of the things that are really worth eating. The consequence +was that Donaldson's would turn out for an important match all muscle +and bone, and on such occasions it was bad for those of their opponents +who had been taking life more easily. Besides Trevor they had Clowes, +and had had bad luck in not having Paget. Had Paget stopped, no other +house could have looked at them. But by his departure, the strength of +the team had become more nearly on a level with that of Seymour's. + +Some even thought that Seymour's were the stronger. Milton was as good +a forward as the school possessed. Besides him there were Barry and +Rand-Brown on the wings. Drummond was a useful half, and five of the +pack had either first or second fifteen colours. It was a team that +would take some beating. + +Trevor came to that conclusion early. "If we can beat Seymour's, we'll +lift the cup," he said to Clowes. + +"We'll have to do all we know," was Clowes' reply. + +They were watching Seymour's pile up an immense score against a scratch +team got up by one of the masters. The first round of the competition +was over. Donaldson's had beaten Templar's, Seymour's the School House. +Templar's were rather stronger than the School House, and Donaldson's +had beaten them by a rather larger score than that which Seymour's had +run up in their match. But neither Trevor nor Clowes was inclined to +draw any augury from this. Seymour's had taken things easily after +half-time; Donaldson's had kept going hard all through. + +"That makes Rand-Brown's fourth try," said Clowes, as the wing +three-quarter of the second fifteen raced round and scored in the +corner. + +"Yes. This is the sort of game he's all right in. The man who's marking +him is no good. Barry's scored twice, and both good tries, too." + +"Oh, there's no doubt which is the best man," said Clowes. "I only +mentioned that it was Rand-Brown's fourth as an item of interest." + +The game continued. Barry scored a third try. + +"We're drawn against Appleby's next round," said Trevor. "We can manage +them all right." + +"When is it?" + +"Next Thursday. Nomads' match on Saturday. Then Ripton, Saturday week." + +"Who've Seymour's drawn?" + +"Day's. It'll be a good game, too. Seymour's ought to win, but they'll +have to play their best. Day's have got some good men." + +"Fine scrum," said Clowes. "Yes. Quick in the open, too, which is +always good business. I wish they'd beat Seymour's." + +"Oh, we ought to be all right, whichever wins." + +Appleby's did not offer any very serious resistance to the Donaldson +attack. They were outplayed at every point of the game, and, before +half-time, Donaldson's had scored their thirty points. It was a rule in +all in-school matches--and a good rule, too--that, when one side led by +thirty points, the match stopped. This prevented those massacres which +do so much towards crushing all the football out of the members of the +beaten team; and it kept the winning team from getting slack, by urging +them on to score their thirty points before half-time. There were some +houses--notoriously slack--which would go for a couple of seasons +without ever playing the second half of a match. + +Having polished off the men of Appleby, the Donaldson team trooped off +to the other game to see how Seymour's were getting on with Day's. It +was evidently an exciting match. The first half had been played to the +accompaniment of much shouting from the ropes. Though coming so early +in the competition, it was really the semi-final, for whichever team +won would be almost certain to get into the final. The school had +turned up in large numbers to watch. + +"Seymour's looking tired of life," said Clowes. "That would seem as if +his fellows weren't doing well." + +"What's been happening here?" asked Trevor of an enthusiast in a +Seymour's house cap whose face was crimson with yelling. + +"One goal all," replied the enthusiast huskily. "Did you beat +Appleby's?" + +"Yes. Thirty points before half-time. Who's been doing the scoring +here?" + +"Milton got in for us. He barged through out of touch. We've been +pressing the whole time. Barry got over once, but he was held up. +Hullo, they're beginning again. Buck up, Sey-_mour's_." + +His voice cracking on the high note, he took an immense slab of vanilla +chocolate as a remedy for hoarseness. + +"Who scored for Day's?" asked Clowes. + +"Strachan. Rand-Brown let him through from their twenty-five. You never +saw anything so rotten as Rand-Brown. He doesn't take his passes, and +Strachan gets past him every time." + +"Is Strachan playing on the wing?" + +Strachan was the first fifteen full-back. + +"Yes. They've put young Bassett back instead of him. Sey-_mour's_. +Buck up, Seymour's. We-ell played! There, did you ever see anything +like it?" he broke off disgustedly. + +The Seymourite playing centre next to Rand-Brown had run through to the +back and passed out to his wing, as a good centre should. It was a +perfect pass, except that it came at his head instead of his chest. +Nobody with any pretensions to decent play should have missed it. +Rand-Brown, however, achieved that feat. The ball struck his hands +and bounded forward. The referee blew his whistle for a scrum, and a +certain try was lost. + +From the scrum the Seymour's forwards broke away to the goal-line, +where they were pulled up by Bassett. The next minute the defence had +been pierced, and Drummond was lying on the ball a yard across the +line. The enthusiast standing by Clowes expended the last relics of his +voice in commemorating the fact that his side had the lead. + +"Drummond'll be good next year," said Trevor. And he made a mental note +to tell Allardyce, who would succeed him in the command of the school +football, to keep an eye on the player in question. + +The triumph of the Seymourites was not long lived. Milton failed to +convert Drummond's try. From the drop-out from the twenty-five line +Barry got the ball, and punted into touch. The throw-out was not +straight, and a scrum was formed. The ball came out to the Day's +halves, and went across to Strachan. Rand-Brown hesitated, and then +made a futile spring at the first fifteen man's neck. Strachan handed +him off easily, and ran. The Seymour's full-back, who was a poor +player, failed to get across in time. Strachan ran round behind the +posts, the kick succeeded, and Day's now led by two points. + +After this the game continued in Day's half. Five minutes before time +was up, Drummond got the ball from a scrum nearly on the line, passed +it to Barry on the wing instead of opening up the game by passing to +his centres, and Barry slipped through in the corner. This put +Seymour's just one point ahead, and there they stayed till the whistle +blew for no-side. + +Milton walked over to the boarding-houses with Clowes and Trevor. He +was full of the match, particularly of the iniquity of Rand-Brown. "I +slanged him on the field," he said. "It's a thing I don't often do, but +what else _can_ you do when a man plays like that? He lost us +three certain tries." + +"When did you administer your rebuke?" inquired Clowes. + +"When he had let Strachan through that second time, in the second half. +I asked him why on earth he tried to play footer at all. I told him a +good kiss-in-the-ring club was about his form. It was rather cheap, but +I felt so frightfully sick about it. It's sickening to be let down like +that when you've been pressing the whole time, and ought to be scoring +every other minute." + +"What had he to say on the subject?" asked Clowes. + +"Oh, he gassed a bit until I told him I'd kick him if he said another +word. That shut him up." + +"You ought to have kicked him. You want all the kicking practice you +can get. I never saw anything feebler than that shot of yours after +Drummond's try." + +"I'd like to see _you_ take a kick like that. It was nearly on the +touch-line. Still, when we play you, we shan't need to convert any of +our tries. We'll get our thirty points without that. Perhaps you'd like +to scratch?" + +"As a matter of fact," said Clowes confidentially, "I am going to score +seven tries against you off my own bat. You'll be sorry you ever turned +out when we've finished with you." + + + + +XII + +NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT + + +Shoeblossom sat disconsolately on the table in the senior day-room. He +was not happy in exile. Brewing in the senior day-room was a mere +vulgar brawl, lacking all the refining influences of the study. You had +to fight for a place at the fire, and when you had got it 'twas not +always easy to keep it, and there was no privacy, and the fellows were +always bear-fighting, so that it was impossible to read a book quietly +for ten consecutive minutes without some ass heaving a cushion at you +or turning out the gas. Altogether Shoeblossom yearned for the peace of +his study, and wished earnestly that Mr Seymour would withdraw the +order of banishment. It was the not being able to read that he objected +to chiefly. In place of brewing, the ex-proprietors of studies five, +six, and seven now made a practice of going to the school shop. It was +more expensive and not nearly so comfortable--there is a romance about +a study brew which you can never get anywhere else--but it served, and +it was not on this score that he grumbled most. What he hated was +having to live in a bear-garden. For Shoeblossom was a man of moods. +Give him two or three congenial spirits to back him up, and he would +lead the revels with the _abandon_ of a Mr Bultitude (after his +return to his original form). But he liked to choose his accomplices, +and the gay sparks of the senior day-room did not appeal to him. They +were not intellectual enough. In his lucid intervals, he was accustomed +to be almost abnormally solemn and respectable. When not promoting some +unholy rag, Shoeblossom resembled an elderly gentleman of studious +habits. He liked to sit in a comfortable chair and read a book. It was +the impossibility of doing this in the senior day-room that led him to +try and think of some other haven where he might rest. Had it been +summer, he would have taken some literature out on to the cricket-field +or the downs, and put in a little steady reading there, with the aid of +a bag of cherries. But with the thermometer low, that was impossible. + +He felt very lonely and dismal. He was not a man with many friends. In +fact, Barry and the other three were almost the only members of the +house with whom he was on speaking-terms. And of these four he saw very +little. Drummond and Barry were always out of doors or over at the +gymnasium, and as for M'Todd and De Bertini, it was not worth while +talking to the one, and impossible to talk to the other. No wonder +Shoeblossom felt dull. Once Barry and Drummond had taken him over to +the gymnasium with them, but this had bored him worse than ever. They +had been hard at it all the time--for, unlike a good many of the +school, they went to the gymnasium for business, not to lounge--and he +had had to sit about watching them. And watching gymnastics was one of +the things he most loathed. Since then he had refused to go. + +That night matters came to a head. Just as he had settled down to read, +somebody, in flinging a cushion across the room, brought down the gas +apparatus with a run, and before light was once more restored it was +tea-time. After that there was preparation, which lasted for two hours, +and by the time he had to go to bed he had not been able to read a +single page of the enthralling work with which he was at present +occupied. + +He had just got into bed when he was struck with a brilliant idea. Why +waste the precious hours in sleep? What was that saying of somebody's, +"Five hours for a wise man, six for somebody else--he forgot whom--eight +for a fool, nine for an idiot," or words to that effect? Five hours +sleep would mean that he need not go to bed till half past two. In the +meanwhile he could be finding out exactly what the hero _did_ do when +he found out (to his horror) that it was his cousin Jasper who had +really killed the old gentleman in the wood. The only question was--how +was he to do his reading? Prefects were allowed to work on after lights +out in their dormitories by the aid of a candle, but to the ordinary +mortal this was forbidden. + +Then he was struck with another brilliant idea. It is a curious thing +about ideas. You do not get one for over a month, and then there comes +a rush of them, all brilliant. Why, he thought, should he not go and +read in his study with a dark lantern? He had a dark lantern. It was +one of the things he had found lying about at home on the last day of +the holidays, and had brought with him to school. It was his custom to +go about the house just before the holidays ended, snapping up +unconsidered trifles, which might or might not come in useful. This +term he had brought back a curious metal vase (which looked Indian, but +which had probably been made in Birmingham the year before last), two +old coins (of no mortal use to anybody in the world, including +himself), and the dark lantern. It was reposing now in the cupboard in +his study nearest the window. + +He had brought his book up with him on coming to bed, on the chance +that he might have time to read a page or two if he woke up early. (He +had always been doubtful about that man Jasper. For one thing, he had +been seen pawning the old gentleman's watch on the afternoon of the +murder, which was a suspicious circumstance, and then he was not a nice +character at all, and just the sort of man who would be likely to murder +old gentlemen in woods.) He waited till Mr Seymour had paid his nightly +visit--he went the round of the dormitories at about eleven--and then he +chuckled gently. If Mill, the dormitory prefect, was awake, the chuckle +would make him speak, for Mill was of a suspicious nature, and believed +that it was only his unintermitted vigilance which prevented the +dormitory ragging all night. + +Mill _was_ awake. + +"Be quiet, there," he growled. "Shut up that noise." + +Shoeblossom felt that the time was not yet ripe for his departure. Half +an hour later he tried again. There was no rebuke. To make certain he +emitted a second chuckle, replete with sinister meaning. A slight snore +came from the direction of Mill's bed. Shoeblossom crept out of the +room, and hurried to his study. The door was not locked, for Mr Seymour +had relied on his commands being sufficient to keep the owner out of +it. He slipped in, found and lit the dark lantern, and settled down to +read. He read with feverish excitement. The thing was, you see, that +though Claud Trevelyan (that was the hero) knew jolly well that it was +Jasper who had done the murder, the police didn't, and, as he (Claud) +was too noble to tell them, he had himself been arrested on suspicion. +Shoeblossom was skimming through the pages with starting eyes, when +suddenly his attention was taken from his book by a sound. It was a +footstep. Somebody was coming down the passage, and under the door +filtered a thin stream of light. To snap the dark slide over the +lantern and dart to the door, so that if it opened he would be behind +it, was with him, as Mr Claud Trevelyan might have remarked, the work +of a moment. He heard the door of study number five flung open, and +then the footsteps passed on, and stopped opposite his own den. The +handle turned, and the light of a candle flashed into the room, to be +extinguished instantly as the draught of the moving door caught it. + +Shoeblossom heard his visitor utter an exclamation of annoyance, and +fumble in his pocket for matches. He recognised the voice. It was Mr +Seymour's. The fact was that Mr Seymour had had the same experience as +General Stanley in _The Pirates of Penzance_: + + The man who finds his conscience ache, + No peace at all enjoys; + And, as I lay in bed awake, + I thought I heard a noise. + +Whether Mr Seymour's conscience ached or not, cannot, of course, be +discovered. But he had certainly thought he heard a noise, and he had +come to investigate. + +The search for matches had so far proved fruitless. Shoeblossom stood +and quaked behind the door. The reek of hot tin from the dark lantern +grew worse momentarily. Mr Seymour sniffed several times, until +Shoeblossom thought that he must be discovered. Then, to his immense +relief, the master walked away. Shoeblossom's chance had come. Mr +Seymour had probably gone to get some matches to relight his candle. It +was far from likely that the episode was closed. He would be back again +presently. If Shoeblossom was going to escape, he must do it now, so he +waited till the footsteps had passed away, and then darted out in the +direction of his dormitory. + +As he was passing Milton's study, a white figure glided out of it. All +that he had ever read or heard of spectres rushed into Shoeblossom's +petrified brain. He wished he was safely in bed. He wished he had never +come out of it. He wished he had led a better and nobler life. He +wished he had never been born. + +The figure passed quite close to him as he stood glued against the +wall, and he saw it disappear into the dormitory opposite his own, of +which Rigby was prefect. He blushed hotly at the thought of the fright +he had been in. It was only somebody playing the same game as himself. + +He jumped into bed and lay down, having first plunged the lantern +bodily into his jug to extinguish it. Its indignant hiss had scarcely +died away when Mr Seymour appeared at the door. It had occurred to Mr +Seymour that he had smelt something very much out of the ordinary in +Shoeblossom's study, a smell uncommonly like that of hot tin. And a +suspicion dawned on him that Shoeblossom had been in there with a dark +lantern. He had come to the dormitory to confirm his suspicions. But a +glance showed him how unjust they had been. There was Shoeblossom fast +asleep. Mr Seymour therefore followed the excellent example of my Lord +Tomnoddy on a celebrated occasion, and went off to bed. + + * * * * * + +It was the custom for the captain of football at Wrykyn to select and +publish the team for the Ripton match a week before the day on which it +was to be played. On the evening after the Nomads' match, Trevor was +sitting in his study writing out the names, when there came a knock at +the door, and his fag entered with a letter. + +"This has just come, Trevor," he said. + +"All right. Put it down." + +The fag left the room. Trevor picked up the letter. The handwriting was +strange to him. The words had been printed. Then it flashed upon him +that he had received a letter once before addressed in the same +way--the letter from the League about Barry. Was this, too, from +that address? He opened it. + +It was. + +He read it, and gasped. The worst had happened. The gold bat was in the +hands of the enemy. + + + + +XIII + +VICTIM NUMBER THREE + + +"With reference to our last communication," ran the letter--the writer +evidently believed in the commercial style--"it may interest you to +know that the bat you lost by the statue on the night of the 26th of +January has come into our possession. _We observe that Barry is still +playing for the first fifteen._" + +"And will jolly well continue to," muttered Trevor, crumpling the paper +viciously into a ball. + +He went on writing the names for the Ripton match. The last name on the +list was Barry's. + +Then he sat back in his chair, and began to wrestle with this new +development. Barry must play. That was certain. All the bluff in the +world was not going to keep him from playing the best man at his disposal +in the Ripton match. He himself did not count. It was the school he had +to think of. This being so, what was likely to happen? Though nothing +was said on the point, he felt certain that if he persisted in ignoring +the League, that bat would find its way somehow--by devious routes, +possibly--to the headmaster or some one else in authority. And then +there would be questions--awkward questions--and things would begin +to come out. Then a fresh point struck him, which was, that whatever +might happen would affect, not himself, but O'Hara. This made it rather +more of a problem how to act. Personally, he was one of those dogged +characters who can put up with almost anything themselves. If this had +been his affair, he would have gone on his way without hesitating. +Evidently the writer of the letter was under the impression that he +had been the hero (or villain) of the statue escapade. + +If everything came out it did not require any great effort of prophecy +to predict what the result would be. O'Hara would go. Promptly. He +would receive his marching orders within ten minutes of the discovery +of what he had done. He would be expelled twice over, so to speak, once +for breaking out at night--one of the most heinous offences in the +school code--and once for tarring the statue. Anything that gave the +school a bad name in the town was a crime in the eyes of the powers, +and this was such a particularly flagrant case. Yes, there was no doubt +of that. O'Hara would take the first train home without waiting to pack +up. Trevor knew his people well, and he could imagine their feelings +when the prodigal strolled into their midst--an old Wrykinian _malgre +lui_. As the philosopher said of falling off a ladder, it is not the +falling that matters: it is the sudden stopping at the other end. It is +not the being expelled that is so peculiarly objectionable: it is the +sudden homecoming. With this gloomy vision before him, Trevor almost +wavered. But the thought that the selection of the team had nothing +whatever to do with his personal feelings strengthened him. He was +simply a machine, devised to select the fifteen best men in the school +to meet Ripton. In his official capacity of football captain he was not +supposed to have any feelings. However, he yielded in so far that he +went to Clowes to ask his opinion. + +Clowes, having heard everything and seen the letter, unhesitatingly +voted for the right course. If fifty mad Irishmen were to be expelled, +Barry must play against Ripton. He was the best man, and in he must go. + +"That's what I thought," said Trevor. "It's bad for O'Hara, though." + +Clowes remarked somewhat tritely that business was business. + +"Besides," he went on, "you're assuming that the thing this letter +hints at will really come off. I don't think it will. A man would have +to be such an awful blackguard to go as low as that. The least grain of +decency in him would stop him. I can imagine a man threatening to do it +as a piece of bluff--by the way, the letter doesn't actually say +anything of the sort, though I suppose it hints at it--but I can't +imagine anybody out of a melodrama doing it." + +"You can never tell," said Trevor. He felt that this was but an outside +chance. The forbearance of one's antagonist is but a poor thing to +trust to at the best of times. + +"Are you going to tell O'Hara?" asked Clowes. + +"I don't see the good. Would you?" + +"No. He can't do anything, and it would only give him a bad time. There +are pleasanter things, I should think, than going on from day to day not +knowing whether you're going to be sacked or not within the next twelve +hours. Don't tell him." + +"I won't. And Barry plays against Ripton." + +"Certainly. He's the best man." + +"I'm going over to Seymour's now," said Trevor, after a pause, "to see +Milton. We've drawn Seymour's in the next round of the house-matches. I +suppose you knew. I want to get it over before the Ripton match, for +several reasons. About half the fifteen are playing on one side or the +other, and it'll give them a good chance of getting fit. Running and +passing is all right, but a good, hard game's the thing for putting you +into form. And then I was thinking that, as the side that loses, +whichever it is--" + +"Seymour's, of course." + +"Hope so. Well, they're bound to be a bit sick at losing, so they'll +play up all the harder on Saturday to console themselves for losing the +cup." + +"My word, what strategy!" said Clowes. "You think of everything. When +do you think of playing it, then?" + +"Wednesday struck me as a good day. Don't you think so?" + +"It would do splendidly. It'll be a good match. For all practical +purposes, of course, it's the final. If we beat Seymour's, I don't +think the others will trouble us much." + +There was just time to see Milton before lock-up. Trevor ran across to +Seymour's, and went up to his study. + +"Come in," said Milton, in answer to his knock. + +Trevor went in, and stood surprised at the difference in the look of +the place since the last time he had visited it. The walls, once +covered with photographs, were bare. Milton, seated before the fire, +was ruefully contemplating what looked like a heap of waste cardboard. + +Trevor recognised the symptoms. He had had experience. + +"You don't mean to say they've been at you, too!" he cried. + +Milton's normally cheerful face was thunderous and gloomy. + +"Yes. I was thinking what I'd like to do to the man who ragged it." + +"It's the League again, I suppose?" + +Milton looked surprised. + +"_Again?_" he said, "where did _you_ hear of the League? +This is the first time I've heard of its existence, whatever it is. +What is the confounded thing, and why on earth have they played the +fool here? What's the meaning of this bally rot?" + +He exhibited one of the variety of cards of which Trevor had already +seen two specimens. Trevor explained briefly the style and nature of +the League, and mentioned that his study also had been wrecked. + +"Your study? Why, what have they got against you?" + +"I don't know," said Trevor. Nothing was to be gained by speaking of +the letters he had received. + +"Did they cut up your photographs?" + +"Every one." + +"I tell you what it is, Trevor, old chap," said Milton, with great +solemnity, "there's a lunatic in the school. That's what I make of it. +A lunatic whose form of madness is wrecking studies." + +"But the same chap couldn't have done yours and mine. It must have been +a Donaldson's fellow who did mine, and one of your chaps who did yours +and Mill's." + +"Mill's? By Jove, of course. I never thought of that. That was the +League, too, I suppose?" + +"Yes. One of those cards was tied to a chair, but Clowes took it away +before anybody saw it." + +Milton returned to the details of the disaster. + +"Was there any ink spilt in your room?" + +"Pints," said Trevor, shortly. The subject was painful. + +"So there was here," said Milton, mournfully. "Gallons." + +There was silence for a while, each pondering over his wrongs. + +"Gallons," said Milton again. "I was ass enough to keep a large pot +full of it here, and they used it all, every drop. You never saw such a +sight." + +Trevor said he had seen one similar spectacle. + +"And my photographs! You remember those photographs I showed you? All +ruined. Slit across with a knife. Some torn in half. I wish I knew who +did that." + +Trevor said he wished so, too. + +"There was one of Mrs Patrick Campbell," Milton continued in +heartrending tones, "which was torn into sixteen pieces. I counted +them. There they are on the mantelpiece. And there was one of Little +Tich" (here he almost broke down), "which was so covered with ink that +for half an hour I couldn't recognise it. Fact." + +Trevor nodded sympathetically. + +"Yes," said Milton. "Soaked." + +There was another silence. Trevor felt it would be almost an outrage to +discuss so prosaic a topic as the date of a house-match with one so +broken up. Yet time was flying, and lock-up was drawing near. + +"Are you willing to play--" he began. + +"I feel as if I could never play again," interrupted Milton. "You'd +hardly believe the amount of blotting-paper I've used today. It must +have been a lunatic, Dick, old man." + +When Milton called Trevor "Dick", it was a sign that he was moved. When +he called him "Dick, old man", it gave evidence of an internal upheaval +without parallel. + +"Why, who else but a lunatic would get up in the night to wreck another +chap's study? All this was done between eleven last night and seven +this morning. I turned in at eleven, and when I came down here again at +seven the place was a wreck. It must have been a lunatic." + +"How do you account for the printed card from the League?" + +Milton murmured something about madmen's cunning and diverting +suspicion, and relapsed into silence. Trevor seized the opportunity to +make the proposal he had come to make, that Donaldson's _v._ +Seymour's should be played on the following Wednesday. + +Milton agreed listlessly. + +"Just where you're standing," he said, "I found a photograph of Sir +Henry Irving so slashed about that I thought at first it was Huntley +Wright in _San Toy_." + +"Start at two-thirty sharp," said Trevor. + +"I had seventeen of Edna May," continued the stricken Seymourite, +monotonously. "In various attitudes. All destroyed." + +"On the first fifteen ground, of course," said Trevor. "I'll get +Aldridge to referee. That'll suit you, I suppose?" + +"All right. Anything you like. Just by the fireplace I found the +remains of Arthur Roberts in _H.M.S. Irresponsible_. And part of +Seymour Hicks. Under the table--" + +Trevor departed. + + + + +XIV + +THE WHITE FIGURE + + +"Suppose," said Shoeblossom to Barry, as they were walking over to +school on the morning following the day on which Milton's study had +passed through the hands of the League, "suppose you thought somebody +had done something, but you weren't quite certain who, but you knew it +was some one, what would you do?" + +"What on _earth_ do you mean?" inquired Barry. + +"I was trying to make an A.B. case of it," explained Shoeblossom. + +"What's an A.B. case?" + +"I don't know," admitted Shoeblossom, frankly. "But it comes in a book +of Stevenson's. I think it must mean a sort of case where you call +everyone A. and B. and don't tell their names." + +"Well, go ahead." + +"It's about Milton's study." + +"What! what about it?" + +"Well, you see, the night it was ragged I was sitting in my study with +a dark lantern--" + +"What!" + +Shoeblossom proceeded to relate the moving narrative of his +night-walking adventure. He dwelt movingly on his state of mind +when standing behind the door, waiting for Mr Seymour to come in +and find him. He related with appropriate force the hair-raising +episode of the weird white figure. And then he came to the conclusions +he had since drawn (in calmer moments) from that apparition's movements. + +"You see," he said, "I saw it coming out of Milton's study, and that +must have been about the time the study was ragged. And it went into +Rigby's dorm. So it must have been a chap in that dorm, who did it." + +Shoeblossom was quite clever at rare intervals. Even Barry, whose +belief in his sanity was of the smallest, was compelled to admit that +here, at any rate, he was talking sense. + +"What would you do?" asked Shoeblossom. + +"Tell Milton, of course," said Barry. + +"But he'd give me beans for being out of the dorm, after lights-out." + +This was a distinct point to be considered. The attitude of Barry +towards Milton was different from that of Shoeblossom. Barry regarded +him--through having played with him in important matches--as a good +sort of fellow who had always behaved decently to him. Leather-Twigg, +on the other hand, looked on him with undisguised apprehension, as one +in authority who would give him lines the first time he came into +contact with him, and cane him if he ever did it again. He had a +decided disinclination to see Milton on any pretext whatever. + +"Suppose I tell him?" suggested Barry. + +"You'll keep my name dark?" said Shoeblossom, alarmed. + +Barry said he would make an A.B. case of it. + +After school he went to Milton's study, and found him still brooding +over its departed glories. + +"I say, Milton, can I speak to you for a second?" + +"Hullo, Barry. Come in." + +Barry came in. + +"I had forty-three photographs," began Milton, without preamble. "All +destroyed. And I've no money to buy any more. I had seventeen of Edna +May." + +Barry, feeling that he was expected to say something, said, "By Jove! +Really?" + +"In various positions," continued Milton. "All ruined." + +"Not really?" said Barry. + +"There was one of Little Tich--" + +But Barry felt unequal to playing the part of chorus any longer. It was +all very thrilling, but, if Milton was going to run through the entire +list of his destroyed photographs, life would be too short for +conversation on any other topic. + +"I say, Milton," he said, "it was about that that I came. I'm sorry--" + +Milton sat up. + +"It wasn't you who did this, was it?" + +"No, no," said Barry, hastily. + +"Oh, I thought from your saying you were sorry--" + +"I was going to say I thought I could put you on the track of the chap +who did do it--" + +For the second time since the interview began Milton sat up. + +"Go on," he said. + +"--But I'm sorry I can't give you the name of the fellow who told me +about it." + +"That doesn't matter," said Milton. "Tell me the name of the fellow who +did it. That'll satisfy me." + +"I'm afraid I can't do that, either." + +"Have you any idea what you _can_ do?" asked Milton, satirically. + +"I can tell you something which may put you on the right track." + +"That'll do for a start. Well?" + +"Well, the chap who told me--I'll call him A.; I'm going to make an +A.B. case of it--was coming out of his study at about one o'clock in +the morning--" + +"What the deuce was he doing that for?" + +"Because he wanted to go back to bed," said Barry. + +"About time, too. Well?" + +"As he was going past your study, a white figure emerged--" + +"I should strongly advise you, young Barry," said Milton, gravely, "not +to try and rot me in any way. You're a jolly good wing three-quarters, +but you shouldn't presume on it. I'd slay the Old Man himself if he +rotted me about this business." + +Barry was quite pained at this sceptical attitude in one whom he was +going out of his way to assist. + +"I'm not rotting," he protested. "This is all quite true." + +"Well, go on. You were saying something about white figures emerging." + +"Not white figures. A white figure," corrected Barry. "It came out of +your study--" + +"--And vanished through the wall?" + +"It went into Rigby's dorm.," said Barry, sulkily. It was maddening to +have an exclusive bit of news treated in this way. + + +"Did it, by Jove!" said Milton, interested at last. "Are you sure the +chap who told you wasn't pulling your leg? Who was it told you?" + +"I promised him not to say." + +"Out with it, young Barry." + +"I won't," said Barry. + +"You aren't going to tell me?" + +"No." + +Milton gave up the point with much cheerfulness. He liked Barry, and he +realised that he had no right to try and make him break his promise. + +"That's all right," he said. "Thanks very much, Barry. This may be +useful." + +"I'd tell you his name if I hadn't promised, you know, Milton." + +"It doesn't matter," said Milton. "It's not important." + +"Oh, there was one thing I forgot. It was a biggish chap the fellow +saw." + +"How big! My size?" + +"Not quite so tall, I should think. He said he was about Seymour's +size." + +"Thanks. That's worth knowing. Thanks very much, Barry." + +When his visitor had gone, Milton proceeded to unearth one of the +printed lists of the house which were used for purposes of roll-call. +He meant to find out who were in Rigby's dormitory. He put a tick +against the names. There were eighteen of them. The next thing was to +find out which of them was about the same height as Mr Seymour. It was a +somewhat vague description, for the house-master stood about five feet +nine or eight, and a good many of the dormitory were that height, or near +it. At last, after much brain-work, he reduced the number of "possibles" +to seven. These seven were Rigby himself, Linton, Rand-Brown, Griffith, +Hunt, Kershaw, and Chapple. Rigby might be scratched off the list at +once. He was one of Milton's greatest friends. Exeunt also Griffith, +Hunt, and Kershaw. They were mild youths, quite incapable of any deed +of devilry. There remained, therefore, Chapple, Linton, and Rand-Brown. +Chapple was a boy who was invariably late for breakfast. The inference +was that he was not likely to forego his sleep for the purpose of +wrecking studies. Chapple might disappear from the list. Now there +were only Linton and Rand-Brown to be considered. His suspicions fell +on Rand-Brown. Linton was the last person, he thought, to do such a +low thing. He was a cheerful, rollicking individual, who was popular with +everyone and seemed to like everyone. He was not an orderly member of +the house, certainly, and on several occasions Milton had found it +necessary to drop on him heavily for creating disturbances. But he was +not the sort that bears malice. He took it all in the way of business, +and came up smiling after it was over. No, everything pointed to +Rand-Brown. He and Milton had never got on well together, and quite +recently they had quarrelled openly over the former's play in the Day's +match. Rand-Brown must be the man. But Milton was sensible enough to +feel that so far he had no real evidence whatever. He must wait. + +On the following afternoon Seymour's turned out to play Donaldson's. + +The game, like most house-matches, was played with the utmost keenness. +Both teams had good three-quarters, and they attacked in turn. +Seymour's had the best of it forward, where Milton was playing a great +game, but Trevor in the centre was the best outside on the field, and +pulled up rush after rush. By half-time neither side had scored. + +After half-time Seymour's, playing downhill, came away with a rush to +the Donaldsonites' half, and Rand-Brown, with one of the few decent +runs he had made in good class football that term, ran in on the left. +Milton took the kick, but failed, and Seymour's led by three points. +For the next twenty minutes nothing more was scored. Then, when five +minutes more of play remained, Trevor gave Clowes an easy opening, and +Clowes sprinted between the posts. The kick was an easy one, and what +sporting reporters term "the major points" were easily added. + +When there are five more minutes to play in an important house-match, +and one side has scored a goal and the other a try, play is apt to +become spirited. Both teams were doing all they knew. The ball came out +to Barry on the right. Barry's abilities as a three-quarter rested +chiefly on the fact that he could dodge well. This eel-like attribute +compensated for a certain lack of pace. He was past the Donaldson's +three-quarters in an instant, and running for the line, with only the +back to pass, and with Clowes in hot pursuit. Another wriggle took him +past the back, but it also gave Clowes time to catch him up. Clowes was +a far faster runner, and he got to him just as he reached the +twenty-five line. They came down together with a crash, Clowes on +top, and as they fell the whistle blew. + +"No-side," said Mr. Aldridge, the master who was refereeing. + +Clowes got up. + +"All over," he said. "Jolly good game. Hullo, what's up?" + +For Barry seemed to be in trouble. + +"You might give us a hand up," said the latter. "I believe I've twisted +my beastly ankle or something." + + + + +XV + +A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE + + +"I say," said Clowes, helping him up, "I'm awfully sorry. Did I do it? +How did it happen?" + +Barry was engaged in making various attempts at standing on the injured +leg. The process seemed to be painful. + +"Shall I get a stretcher or anything? Can you walk?" + +"If you'd help me over to the house, I could manage all right. What a +beastly nuisance! It wasn't your fault a bit. Only you tackled me when +I was just trying to swerve, and my ankle was all twisted." + +Drummond came up, carrying Barry's blazer and sweater. + +"Hullo, Barry," he said, "what's up? You aren't crocked?" + +"Something gone wrong with my ankle. That my blazer? Thanks. Coming +over to the house? Clowes was just going to help me over." + +Clowes asked a Donaldson's junior, who was lurking near at hand, to +fetch his blazer and carry it over to the house, and then made his way +with Drummond and the disabled Barry to Seymour's. Having arrived at +the senior day-room, they deposited the injured three-quarter in a +chair, and sent M'Todd, who came in at the moment, to fetch the doctor. + +Dr Oakes was a big man with a breezy manner, the sort of doctor who +hits you with the force of a sledge-hammer in the small ribs, and asks +you if you felt anything _then_. It was on this principle that he +acted with regard to Barry's ankle. He seized it in both hands and gave +it a wrench. + +"Did that hurt?" he inquired anxiously. + +Barry turned white, and replied that it did. + +Dr Oakes nodded wisely. + +"Ah! H'm! Just so. 'Myes. Ah." + +"Is it bad?" asked Drummond, awed by these mystic utterances. + +"My dear boy," replied the doctor, breezily, "it is always bad when one +twists one's ankle." + +"How long will it do me out of footer?" asked Barry. + +"How long? How long? How long? Why, fortnight. Fortnight," said the +doctor. + +"Then I shan't be able to play next Saturday?" + +"Next Saturday? Next Saturday? My dear boy, if you can put your foot to +the ground by next Saturday, you may take it as evidence that the age +of miracles is not past. Next Saturday, indeed! Ha, ha." + +It was not altogether his fault that he treated the matter with such +brutal levity. It was a long time since he had been at school, and he +could not quite realise what it meant to Barry not to be able to play +against Ripton. As for Barry, he felt that he had never loathed and +detested any one so thoroughly as he loathed and detested Dr Oakes at +that moment. + +"I don't see where the joke comes in," said Clowes, when he had gone. +"I bar that man." + +"He's a beast," said Drummond. "I can't understand why they let a tout +like that be the school doctor." + +Barry said nothing. He was too sore for words. + +What Dr Oakes said to his wife that evening was: "Over at the school, +my dear, this afternoon. This afternoon. Boy with a twisted ankle. Nice +young fellow. Very much put out when I told him he could not play +football for a fortnight. But I chaffed him, and cheered him up in no +time. I cheered him up in no time, my dear." + +"I'm sure you did, dear," said Mrs Oakes. Which shows how differently +the same thing may strike different people. Barry certainly did not +look as if he had been cheered up when Clowes left the study and went +over to tell Trevor that he would have to find a substitute for his +right wing three-quarter against Ripton. + +Trevor had left the field without noticing Barry's accident, and he was +tremendously pleased at the result of the game. + +"Good man," he said, when Clowes came in, "you saved the match." + +"And lost the Ripton match probably," said Clowes, gloomily. + +"What do you mean?" + +"That last time I brought down Barry I crocked him. He's in his study +now with a sprained ankle. I've just come from there. Oakes has seen +him, and says he mustn't play for a fortnight." + +"Great Scott!" said Trevor, blankly. "What on earth shall we do?" + +"Why not move Strachan up to the wing, and put somebody else back +instead of him? Strachan is a good wing." + +Trevor shook his head. + +"No. There's nobody good enough to play back for the first. We mustn't +risk it." + +"Then I suppose it must be Rand-Brown?" + +"I suppose so." + +"He may do better than we think. He played quite a decent game today. +That try he got wasn't half a bad one." + +"He'd be all right if he didn't funk. But perhaps he wouldn't funk +against Ripton. In a match like that anybody would play up. I'll ask +Milton and Allardyce about it." + +"I shouldn't go to Milton today," said Clowes. "I fancy he'll want a +night's rest before he's fit to talk to. He must be a bit sick about +this match. I know he expected Seymour's to win." + +He went out, but came back almost immediately. + +"I say," he said, "there's one thing that's just occurred to me. +This'll please the League. I mean, this ankle business of Barry's." + +The same idea had struck Trevor. It was certainly a respite. But he +regretted it for all that. What he wanted was to beat Ripton, and +Barry's absence would weaken the team. However, it was good in its way, +and cleared the atmosphere for the time. The League would hardly do +anything with regard to the carrying out of their threat while Barry +was on the sick-list. + +Next day, having given him time to get over the bitterness of defeat +in accordance with Clowes' thoughtful suggestion, Trevor called on +Milton, and asked him what his opinion was on the subject of the +inclusion of Rand-Brown in the first fifteen in place of Barry, + +"He's the next best man," he added, in defence of the proposal. + +"I suppose so," said Milton. "He'd better play, I suppose. There's no +one else." + +"Clowes thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to shove Strachan on the +wing, and put somebody else back." + +"Who is there to put?" + +"Jervis?" + +"Not good enough. No, it's better to be weakish on the wing than at +back. Besides, Rand-Brown may do all right. He played well against +you." + +"Yes," said Trevor. "Study looks a bit better now," he added, as he was +going, having looked round the room. "Still a bit bare, though." + +Milton sighed. "It will never be what it was." + +"Forty-three theatrical photographs want some replacing, of course," +said Trevor. "But it isn't bad, considering." + +"How's yours?" + +"Oh, mine's all right, except for the absence of photographs." + +"I say, Trevor." + +"Yes?" said Trevor, stopping at the door. Milton's voice had taken on +the tone of one who is about to disclose dreadful secrets. + +"Would you like to know what I think?" + +"What?" + +"Why, I'm pretty nearly sure who it was that ragged my study?" + +"By Jove! What have you done to him?" + +"Nothing as yet. I'm not quite sure of my man." + +"Who is the man?" + +"Rand-Brown." + +"By Jove! Clowes once said he thought Rand-Brown must be the President +of the League. But then, I don't see how you can account for _my_ +study being wrecked. He was out on the field when it was done." + +"Why, the League, of course. You don't suppose he's the only man in it? +There must be a lot of them." + +"But what makes you think it was Rand-Brown?" + +Milton told him the story of Shoeblossom, as Barry had told it to him. +The only difference was that Trevor listened without any of the +scepticism which Milton had displayed on hearing it. He was getting +excited. It all fitted in so neatly. If ever there was circumstantial +evidence against a man, here it was against Rand-Brown. Take the two +cases. Milton had quarrelled with him. Milton's study was wrecked "with +the compliments of the League". Trevor had turned him out of the first +fifteen. Trevor's study was wrecked "with the compliments of the +League". As Clowes had pointed out, the man with the most obvious +motive for not wishing Barry to play for the school was Rand-Brown. It +seemed a true bill. + +"I shouldn't wonder if you're right," he said, "but of course one can't +do anything yet. You want a lot more evidence. Anyhow, we must play him +against Ripton, I suppose. Which is his study? I'll go and tell him +now." + +"Ten." + +Trevor knocked at the door of study Ten. Rand-Brown was sitting over +the fire, reading. He jumped up when he saw that it was Trevor who had +come in, and to his visitor it seemed that his face wore a guilty look. + +"What do you want?" said Rand-Brown. + +It was not the politest way of welcoming a visitor. It increased +Trevor's suspicions. The man was afraid. A great idea darted into his +mind. Why not go straight to the point and have it out with him here +and now? He had the League's letter about the bat in his pocket. He +would confront him with it and insist on searching the study there and +then. If Rand-Brown were really, as he suspected, the writer of the +letter, the bat must be in this room somewhere. Search it now, and he +would have no time to hide it. He pulled out the letter. + +"I believe you wrote that," he said. + +Trevor was always direct. + +Rand-Brown seemed to turn a little pale, but his voice when he replied +was quite steady. + +"That's a lie," he said. + +"Then, perhaps," said Trevor, "you wouldn't object to proving it." + +"How?" + +"By letting me search your study?" + +"You don't believe my word?" + +"Why should I? You don't believe mine." + +Rand-Brown made no comment on this remark. + +"Was that what you came here for?" he asked. + +"No," said Trevor; "as a matter of fact, I came to tell you to turn out +for running and passing with the first tomorrow afternoon. You're +playing against Ripton on Saturday." + +Rand-Brown's attitude underwent a complete transformation at the news. +He became friendliness itself. + +"All right," he said. "I say, I'm sorry I said what I did about lying. +I was rather sick that you should think I wrote that rot you showed me. +I hope you don't mind." + +"Not a bit. Do you mind my searching your study?" + +For a moment Rand-Brown looked vicious. Then he sat down with a laugh. + +"Go on," he said; "I see you don't believe me. Here are the keys if you +want them." + +Trevor thanked him, and took the keys. He opened every drawer and +examined the writing-desk. The bat was in none of these places. He +looked in the cupboards. No bat there. + +"Like to take up the carpet?" inquired Rand-Brown. + +"No, thanks." + +"Search me if you like. Shall I turn out my pockets?" + +"Yes, please," said Trevor, to his surprise. He had not expected to be +taken literally. + +Rand-Brown emptied them, but the bat was not there. Trevor turned to +go. + +"You've not looked inside the legs of the chairs yet," said Rand-Brown. +"They may be hollow. There's no knowing." + +"It doesn't matter, thanks," said Trevor. "Sorry for troubling you. +Don't forget tomorrow afternoon." + +And he went, with the very unpleasant feeling that he had been badly +scored off. + + + + +XVI + +THE RIPTON MATCH + + +It was a curious thing in connection with the matches between Ripton +and Wrykyn, that Ripton always seemed to be the bigger team. They +always had a gigantic pack of forwards, who looked capable of shoving a +hole through one of the pyramids. Possibly they looked bigger to the +Wrykinians than they really were. Strangers always look big on the +football field. When you have grown accustomed to a person's +appearance, he does not look nearly so large. Milton, for instance, +never struck anybody at Wrykyn as being particularly big for a school +forward, and yet today he was the heaviest man on the field by a +quarter of a stone. But, taken in the mass, the Ripton pack were far +heavier than their rivals. There was a legend current among the lower +forms at Wrykyn that fellows were allowed to stop on at Ripton till +they were twenty-five, simply to play football. This is scarcely likely +to have been based on fact. Few lower form legends are. + +Jevons, the Ripton captain, through having played opposite Trevor for +three seasons--he was the Ripton left centre-three-quarter--had come to +be quite an intimate of his. Trevor had gone down with Milton and +Allardyce to meet the team at the station, and conduct them up to the +school. + +"How have you been getting on since Christmas?" asked Jevons. + +"Pretty well. We've lost Paget, I suppose you know?" + +"That was the fast man on the wing, wasn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, we've lost a man, too." + +"Oh, yes, that red-haired forward. I remember him." + +"It ought to make us pretty even. What's the ground like?" + +"Bit greasy, I should think. We had some rain late last night." + +The ground _was_ a bit greasy. So was the ball. When Milton kicked +off up the hill with what wind there was in his favour, the outsides of +both teams found it difficult to hold the ball. Jevons caught it on his +twenty-five line, and promptly handed it forward. The first scrum was +formed in the heart of the enemy's country. + +A deep, swelling roar from either touch-line greeted the school's +advantage. A feature of a big match was always the shouting. It rarely +ceased throughout the whole course of the game, the monotonous but +impressive sound of five hundred voices all shouting the same word. It +was worth hearing. Sometimes the evenness of the noise would change to +an excited _crescendo_ as a school three-quarter got off, or the +school back pulled up the attack with a fine piece of defence. +Sometimes the shouting would give place to clapping when the school was +being pressed and somebody had found touch with a long kick. But mostly +the man on the ropes roared steadily and without cessation, and with +the full force of his lungs, the word "_Wrykyn!_" + +The scrum was a long one. For two minutes the forwards heaved and +strained, now one side, now the other, gaining a few inches. The Wrykyn +pack were doing all they knew to heel, but their opponents' superior +weight was telling. Ripton had got the ball, and were keeping it. Their +game was to break through with it and rush. Then suddenly one of their +forwards kicked it on, and just at that moment the opposition of the +Wrykyn pack gave way, and the scrum broke up. The ball came out on the +Wrykyn side, and Allardyce whipped it out to Deacon, who was playing +half with him. + +"Ball's out," cried the Ripton half who was taking the scrum. "Break +up. It's out." + +And his colleague on the left darted across to stop Trevor, who had +taken Deacon's pass, and was running through on the right. + +Trevor ran splendidly. He was a three-quarter who took a lot of +stopping when he once got away. Jevons and the Ripton half met him +almost simultaneously, and each slackened his pace for the fraction of +a second, to allow the other to tackle. As they hesitated, Trevor +passed them. He had long ago learned that to go hard when you have once +started is the thing that pays. + +He could see that Rand-Brown was racing up for the pass, and, as he +reached the back, he sent the ball to him, waist-high. Then the back +got to him, and he came down with a thud, with a vision, seen from the +corner of his eye, of the ball bounding forward out of the wing +three-quarter's hands into touch. Rand-Brown had bungled the pass +in the old familiar way, and lost a certain try. + +The touch-judge ran up with his flag waving in the air, but the referee +had other views. + +"Knocked on inside," he said; "scrum here." + +"Here" was, Trevor saw with unspeakable disgust, some three yards from +the goal-line. Rand-Brown had only had to take the pass, and he must +have scored. + +The Ripton forwards were beginning to find their feet better now, and +they carried the scrum. A truculent-looking warrior in one of those +ear-guards which are tied on by strings underneath the chin, and which +add fifty per cent to the ferocity of a forward's appearance, broke +away with the ball at his feet, and swept down the field with the rest +of the pack at his heels. Trevor arrived too late to pull up the rush, +which had gone straight down the right touch-line, and it was not till +Strachan fell on the ball on the Wrykyn twenty-five line that the +danger ceased to threaten. + +Even now the school were in a bad way. The enemy were pressing keenly, +and a real piece of combination among their three-quarters would only +too probably end in a try. Fortunately for them, Allardyce and Deacon +were a better pair of halves than the couple they were marking. Also, +the Ripton forwards heeled slowly, and Allardyce had generally got his +man safely buried in the mud before he could pass. + +He was just getting round for the tenth time to bottle his opponent as +before, when he slipped. When the ball came out he was on all fours, +and the Ripton exponent, finding to his great satisfaction that he +had not been tackled, whipped the ball out on the left, where a wing +three-quarter hovered. + +This was the man Rand-Brown was supposed to be marking, and once again +did Barry's substitute prove of what stuff his tackling powers were +made. After his customary moment of hesitation, he had at the +Riptonian's neck. The Riptonian handed him off in a manner that +recalled the palmy days of the old Prize Ring--handing off was always +slightly vigorous in the Ripton _v._ Wrykyn match--and dashed over +the line in the extreme corner. + +There was anguish on the two touch-lines. Trevor looked savage, but +made no comment. The team lined up in silence. + +It takes a very good kick to convert a try from the touch-line. Jevons' +kick was a long one, but it fell short. Ripton led by a try to nothing. + +A few more scrums near the halfway line, and a fine attempt at a +dropped goal by the Ripton back, and it was half-time, with the score +unaltered. + +During the interval there were lemons. An excellent thing is your lemon +at half-time. It cools the mouth, quenches the thirst, stimulates the +desire to be at them again, and improves the play. + +Possibly the Wrykyn team had been happier in their choice of lemons on +this occasion, for no sooner had the game been restarted than Clowes +ran the whole length of the field, dodged through the three-quarters, +punted over the back's head, and scored a really brilliant try, of the +sort that Paget had been fond of scoring in the previous term. The man +on the touch-line brightened up wonderfully, and began to try and +calculate the probable score by the end of the game, on the assumption +that, as a try had been scored in the first two minutes, ten would be +scored in the first twenty, and so on. + +But the calculations were based on false premises. After Strachan had +failed to convert, and the game had been resumed with the score at one +try all, play settled down in the centre, and neither side could pierce +the other's defence. Once Jevons got off for Ripton, but Trevor brought +him down safely, and once Rand-Brown let his man through, as before, +but Strachan was there to meet him, and the effort came to nothing. For +Wrykyn, no one did much except tackle. The forwards were beaten by the +heavier pack, and seldom let the ball out. Allardyce intercepted a pass +when about ten minutes of play remained, and ran through to the back. +But the back, who was a capable man and in his third season in the +team, laid him low scientifically before he could reach the line. + +Altogether it looked as if the match were going to end in a draw. The +Wrykyn defence, with the exception of Rand-Brown, was too good to be +penetrated, while the Ripton forwards, by always getting the ball in +the scrums, kept them from attacking. It was about five minutes from +the end of the game when the Ripton right centre-three-quarter, in +trying to punt across to the wing, miskicked and sent the ball straight +into the hands of Trevor's colleague in the centre. Before his man +could get round to him he had slipped through, with Trevor backing him +up. The back, as a good back should, seeing two men coming at him, went +for the man with the ball. But by the time he had brought him down, the +ball was no longer where it had originally been. Trevor had got it, and +was running in between the posts. + +This time Strachan put on the extra two points without difficulty. + +Ripton played their hardest for the remaining minutes, but without +result. The game ended with Wrykyn a goal ahead--a goal and a try to a +try. For the second time in one season the Ripton match had ended in a +victory--a thing it was very rarely in the habit of doing. + + * * * * * + +The senior day-room at Seymour's rejoiced considerably that night. The +air was dark with flying cushions, and darker still, occasionally, when +the usual humorist turned the gas out. Milton was out, for he had gone +to the dinner which followed the Ripton match, and the man in command +of the house in his absence was Mill. And the senior day-room had no +respect whatever for Mill. + +Barry joined in the revels as well as his ankle would let him, but he +was not feeling happy. The disappointment of being out of the first +still weighed on him. + +At about eight, when things were beginning to grow really lively, and +the noise seemed likely to crack the window at any moment, the door was +flung open and Milton stalked in. + +"What's all this row?" he inquired. "Stop it at once." + +As a matter of fact, the row _had_ stopped--directly he came in. + +"Is Barry here?" he asked. + +"Yes," said that youth. + +"Congratulate you on your first, Barry. We've just had a meeting and +given you your colours. Trevor told me to tell you." + + + + +XVII + +THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT + + +For the next three seconds you could have heard a cannonball drop. And +that was equivalent, in the senior day-room at Seymour's, to a dead +silence. Barry stood in the middle of the room leaning on the stick on +which he supported life, now that his ankle had been injured, and +turned red and white in regular rotation, as the magnificence of the +news came home to him. + +Then the small voice of Linton was heard. + +"That'll be six d. I'll trouble you for, young Sammy," said Linton. For +he had betted an even sixpence with Master Samuel Menzies that Barry +would get his first fifteen cap this term, and Barry had got it. + +A great shout went up from every corner of the room. Barry was one of +the most popular members of the house, and every one had been sorry for +him when his sprained ankle had apparently put him out of the running +for the last cap. + +"Good old Barry," said Drummond, delightedly. Barry thanked him in a +dazed way. + +Every one crowded in to shake his hand. Barry thanked then all in a +dazed way. + +And then the senior day-room, in spite of the fact that Milton had +returned, gave itself up to celebrating the occasion with one of the +most deafening uproars that had ever been heard even in that factory of +noise. A babel of voices discussed the match of the afternoon, each +trying to outshout the other. In one corner Linton was beating wildly +on a biscuit-tin with part of a broken chair. Shoeblossom was busy in +the opposite corner executing an intricate step-dance on somebody +else's box. M'Todd had got hold of the red-hot poker, and was burning +his initials in huge letters on the seat of a chair. Every one, in +short, was enjoying himself, and it was not until an advanced hour that +comparative quiet was restored. It was a great evening for Barry, the +best he had ever experienced. + +Clowes did not learn the news till he saw it on the notice-board, on +the following Monday. When he saw it he whistled softly. + +"I see you've given Barry his first," he said to Trevor, when they met. +"Rather sensational." + +"Milton and Allardyce both thought he deserved it. If he'd been playing +instead of Rand-Brown, they wouldn't have scored at all probably, and +we should have got one more try." + +"That's all right," said Clowes. "He deserves it right enough, and I'm +jolly glad you've given it him. But things will begin to move now, +don't you think? The League ought to have a word to say about the +business. It'll be a facer for them." + +"Do you remember," asked Trevor, "saying that you thought it must be +Rand-Brown who wrote those letters?" + +"Yes. Well?" + +"Well, Milton had an idea that it was Rand-Brown who ragged his study." + +"What made him think that?" + +Trevor related the Shoeblossom incident. + +Clowes became quite excited. + +"Then Rand-Brown must be the man," he said. "Why don't you go and +tackle him? Probably he's got the bat in his study." + +"It's not in his study," said Trevor, "because I looked everywhere for +it, and got him to turn out his pockets, too. And yet I'll swear he +knows something about it. One thing struck me as a bit suspicious. I +went straight into his study and showed him that last letter--about the +bat, you know, and accused him of writing it. Now, if he hadn't been in +the business somehow, he wouldn't have understood what was meant by +their saying 'the bat you lost'. It might have been an ordinary +cricket-bat for all he knew. But he offered to let me search the study. +It didn't strike me as rum till afterwards. Then it seemed fishy. What +do you think?" + +Clowes thought so too, but admitted that he did not see of what use the +suspicion was going to be. Whether Rand-Brown knew anything about the +affair or not, it was quite certain that the bat was not with him. + +O'Hara, meanwhile, had decided that the time had come for him to resume +his detective duties. Moriarty agreed with him, and they resolved that +that night they would patronise the vault instead of the gymnasium, and +take a holiday as far as their boxing was concerned. There was plenty +of time before the Aldershot competition. + +Lock-up was still at six, so at a quarter to that hour they slipped +down into the vault, and took up their position. + +A quarter of an hour passed. The lock-up bell sounded faintly. Moriarty +began to grow tired. + +"Is it worth it?" he said, "an' wouldn't they have come before, if they +meant to come?" + +"We'll give them another quarter of an hour," said O'Hara. "After that--" + +"Sh!" whispered Moriarty. + +The door had opened. They could see a figure dimly outlined in the +semi-darkness. Footsteps passed down into the vault, and there came a +sound as if the unknown had cannoned into a chair, followed by a sharp +intake of breath, expressive of pain. A scraping sound, and a flash of +light, and part of the vault was lit by a candle. O'Hara caught a +glimpse of the unknown's face as he rose from lighting the candle, but +it was not enough to enable him to recognise him. The candle was +standing on a chair, and the light it gave was too feeble to reach the +face of any one not on a level with it. + +The unknown began to drag chairs out into the neighbourhood of the +light. O'Hara counted six. + +The sixth chair had scarcely been placed in position when the door +opened again. Six other figures appeared in the opening one after the +other, and bolted into the vault like rabbits into a burrow. The last +of them closed the door after them. + +O'Hara nudged Moriarty, and Moriarty nudged O'Hara; but neither made a +sound. They were not likely to be seen--the blackness of the vault was +too Egyptian for that--but they were so near to the chairs that the +least whisper must have been heard. Not a word had proceeded from the +occupants of the chairs so far. If O'Hara's suspicion was correct, and +this was really the League holding a meeting, their methods were more +secret than those of any other secret society in existence. Even the +Nihilists probably exchanged a few remarks from time to time, when they +met together to plot. But these men of mystery never opened their lips. +It puzzled O'Hara. + +The light of the candle was obscured for a moment, and a sound of +puffing came from the darkness. + +O'Hara nudged Moriarty again. + +"Smoking!" said the nudge. + +Moriarty nudged O'Hara. + +"Smoking it is!" was the meaning of the movement. + +A strong smell of tobacco showed that the diagnosis had been a true +one. Each of the figures in turn lit his pipe at the candle, and sat +back, still in silence. It could not have been very pleasant, smoking +in almost pitch darkness, but it was breaking rules, which was probably +the main consideration that swayed the smokers. They puffed away +steadily, till the two Irishmen were wrapped about in invisible clouds. + +Then a strange thing happened. I know that I am infringing copyright in +making that statement, but it so exactly suits the occurrence, that +perhaps Mr Rider Haggard will not object. It _was_ a strange thing +that happened. + +A rasping voice shattered the silence. + +"You boys down there," said the voice, "come here immediately. Come +here, I say." + +It was the well-known voice of Mr Robert Dexter, O'Hara and Moriarty's +beloved house-master. + +The two Irishmen simultaneously clutched one another, each afraid that +the other would think--from force of long habit--that the house-master +was speaking to him. Both stood where they were. It was the men of +mystery and tobacco that Dexter was after, they thought. + +But they were wrong. What had brought Dexter to the vault was the fact +that he had seen two boys, who looked uncommonly like O'Hara and +Moriarty, go down the steps of the vault at a quarter to six. He had +been doing his usual after-lock-up prowl on the junior gravel, to +intercept stragglers, and he had been a witness--from a distance of +fifty yards, in a very bad light--of the descent into the vault. He had +remained on the gravel ever since, in the hope of catching them as they +came up; but as they had not come up, he had determined to make the +first move himself. He had not seen the six unknowns go down, for, the +evening being chilly, he had paced up and down, and they had by a lucky +accident chosen a moment when his back was turned. + +"Come up immediately," he repeated. + +Here a blast of tobacco-smoke rushed at him from the darkness. The +candle had been extinguished at the first alarm, and he had not +realised--though he had suspected it--that smoking had been going on. + +A hurried whispering was in progress among the unknowns. Apparently +they saw that the game was up, for they picked their way towards the +door. + +As each came up the steps and passed him, Mr Dexter observed "Ha!" and +appeared to make a note of his name. The last of the six was just +leaving him after this process had been completed, when Mr Dexter +called him back. + +"That is not all," he said, suspiciously. + +"Yes, sir," said the last of the unknowns. + +Neither of the Irishmen recognised the voice. Its owner was a stranger +to them. + +"I tell you it is not," snapped Mr Dexter. "You are concealing the +truth from me. O'Hara and Moriarty are down there--two boys in my own +house. I saw them go down there." + +"They had nothing to do with us, sir. We saw nothing of them." + +"I have no doubt," said the house-master, "that you imagine that you +are doing a very chivalrous thing by trying to hide them, but you will +gain nothing by it. You may go." + +He came to the top of the steps, and it seemed as if he intended to +plunge into the darkness in search of the suspects. But, probably +realising the futility of such a course, he changed his mind, and +delivered an ultimatum from the top step. + +"O'Hara and Moriarty." + +No reply. + +"O'Hara and Moriarty, I know perfectly well that you are down there. +Come up immediately." + +Dignified silence from the vault. + +"Well, I shall wait here till you do choose to come up. You would be +well advised to do so immediately. I warn you you will not tire me +out." + +He turned, and the door slammed behind him. + +"What'll we do?" whispered Moriarty. It was at last safe to whisper. + +"Wait," said O'Hara, "I'm thinking." + +O'Hara thought. For many minutes he thought in vain. At last there came +flooding back into his mind a memory of the days of his faghood. It was +after that that he had been groping all the time. He remembered now. +Once in those days there had been an unexpected function in the middle of +term. There were needed for that function certain chairs. He could recall +even now his furious disgust when he and a select body of fellow fags had +been pounced upon by their form-master, and coerced into forming a line +from the junior block to the cloisters, for the purpose of handing +chairs. True, his form-master had stood ginger-beer after the event, with +princely liberality, but the labour was of the sort that gallons of +ginger-beer will not make pleasant. But he ceased to regret the episode +now. He had been at the extreme end of the chair-handling chain. He had +stood in a passage in the junior block, just by the door that led to the +masters' garden, and which--he remembered--was never locked till late at +night. And while he stood there, a pair of hands--apparently without a +body--had heaved up chair after chair through a black opening in the +floor. In other words, a trap-door connected with the vault in which +he now was. + +He imparted these reminiscences of childhood to Moriarty. They set off +to search for the missing door, and, after wanderings and barkings of +shins too painful to relate, they found it. Moriarty lit a match. The +light fell on the trap-door, and their last doubts were at an end. The +thing opened inwards. The bolt was on their side, not in the passage +above them. To shoot the bolt took them one second, to climb into the +passage one minute. They stood at the side of the opening, and dusted +their clothes. + +"Bedad!" said Moriarty, suddenly. + +"What?" + +"Why, how are we to shut it?" + +This was a problem that wanted some solving. Eventually they managed +it, O'Hara leaning over and fishing for it, while Moriarty held his +legs. + +As luck would have it--and luck had stood by them well all +through--there was a bolt on top of the trap-door, as well as +beneath it. + +"Supposing that had been shot!" said O'Hara, as they fastened the door +in its place. + +Moriarty did not care to suppose anything so unpleasant. + +Mr Dexter was still prowling about on the junior gravel, when the two +Irishmen ran round and across the senior gravel to the gymnasium. Here +they put in a few minutes' gentle sparring, and then marched boldly up +to Mr Day (who happened to have looked in five minutes after their +arrival) and got their paper. + +"What time did O'Hara and Moriarty arrive at the gymnasium?" asked Mr +Dexter of Mr Day next morning. + +"O'Hara and Moriarty? Really, I can't remember. I know they _left_ +at about a quarter to seven." + +That profound thinker, Mr Tony Weller, was never so correct as in his +views respecting the value of an _alibi_. There are few better +things in an emergency. + + + + +XVIII + +O'HARA EXCELS HIMSELF + + +It was Renford's turn next morning to get up and feed the ferrets. +Harvey had done it the day before. + +Renford was not a youth who enjoyed early rising, but in the cause of +the ferrets he would have endured anything, so at six punctually he +slid out of bed, dressed quietly, so as not to disturb the rest of the +dormitory, and ran over to the vault. To his utter amazement he found +it locked. Such a thing had never been done before in the whole course +of his experience. He tugged at the handle, but not an inch or a +fraction of an inch would the door yield. The policy of the Open Door +had ceased to find favour in the eyes of the authorities. + +A feeling of blank despair seized upon him. He thought of the dismay of +the ferrets when they woke up and realised that there was no chance of +breakfast for them. And then they would gradually waste away, and some +day somebody would go down to the vault to fetch chairs, and would come +upon two mouldering skeletons, and wonder what they had once been. He +almost wept at the vision so conjured up. + +There was nobody about. Perhaps he might break in somehow. But then +there was nothing to get to work with. He could not kick the door down. +No, he must give it up, and the ferrets' breakfast-hour must be +postponed. Possibly Harvey might be able to think of something. + +"Fed 'em?" inquired Harvey, when they met at breakfast. + +"No, I couldn't." + +"Why on earth not? You didn't oversleep yourself?" + +Renford poured his tale into his friend's shocked ears. + +"My hat!" said Harvey, when he had finished, "what on earth are we to +do? They'll starve." + +Renford nodded mournfully. + +"Whatever made them go and lock the door?" he said. + +He seemed to think the authorities should have given him due notice of +such an action. + +"You're sure they have locked it? It isn't only stuck or something?" + +"I lugged at the handle for hours. But you can go and see for yourself +if you like." + +Harvey went, and, waiting till the coast was clear, attached himself to +the handle with a prehensile grasp, and put his back into one strenuous +tug. It was even as Renford had said. The door was locked beyond +possibility of doubt. + +Renford and he went over to school that morning with long faces and a +general air of acute depression. It was perhaps fortunate for their +purpose that they did, for had their appearance been normal it might +not have attracted O'Hara's attention. As it was, the Irishman, meeting +them on the junior gravel, stopped and asked them what was wrong. Since +the adventure in the vault, he had felt an interest in Renford and +Harvey. + +The two told their story in alternate sentences like the Strophe and +Antistrophe of a Greek chorus. ("Steichomuthics," your Greek scholar +calls it, I fancy. Ha, yes! Just so.) + +"So ye can't get in because they've locked the door, an' ye don't know +what to do about it?" said O'Hara, at the conclusion of the narrative. + +Renford and Harvey informed him in chorus that that _was_ the +state of the game up to present date. + +"An' ye want me to get them out for you?" + +Neither had dared to hope that he would go so far as this. What they +had looked for had been at the most a few thoughtful words of advice. +That such a master-strategist as O'Hara should take up their cause was +an unexampled piece of good luck. + +"If you only would," said Harvey. + +"We should be most awfully obliged," said Renford. + +"Very well," said O'Hara. + +They thanked him profusely. + +O'Hara replied that it would be a privilege. + +He should be sorry, he said, to have anything happen to the ferrets. + +Renford and Harvey went on into school feeling more cheerful. If the +ferrets could be extracted from their present tight corner, O'Hara was +the man to do it. + +O'Hara had not made his offer of assistance in any spirit of doubt. He +was certain that he could do what he had promised. For it had not +escaped his memory that this was a Tuesday--in other words, a +mathematics morning up to the quarter to eleven interval. That meant, +as has been explained previously, that, while the rest of the school +were in the form-rooms, he would be out in the passage, if he cared to +be. There would be no witnesses to what he was going to do. + +But, by that curious perversity of fate which is so often noticeable, +Mr Banks was in a peculiarly lamb-like and long-suffering mood this +morning. Actions for which O'Hara would on other days have been +expelled from the room without hope of return, today were greeted with +a mild "Don't do that, please, O'Hara," or even the ridiculously +inadequate "O'Hara!" It was perfectly disheartening. O'Hara began to +ask himself bitterly what was the use of ragging at all if this was how +it was received. And the moments were flying, and his promise to +Renford and Harvey still remained unfulfilled. + +He prepared for fresh efforts. + +So desperate was he, that he even resorted to crude methods like the +throwing of paper balls and the dropping of books. And when your really +scientific ragger sinks to this, he is nearing the end of his tether. +O'Hara hated to be rude, but there seemed no help for it. + +The striking of a quarter past ten improved his chances. It had been +privily agreed upon beforehand amongst the members of the class that at +a quarter past ten every one was to sneeze simultaneously. The noise +startled Mr Banks considerably. The angelic mood began to wear off. A +man may be long-suffering, but he likes to draw the line somewhere. + +"Another exhibition like that," he said, sharply, "and the class stays +in after school, O'Hara!" + +"Sir?" + +"Silence." + +"I said nothing, sir, really." + +"Boy, you made a cat-like noise with your mouth." + +"What _sort_ of noise, sir?" + +The form waited breathlessly. This peculiarly insidious question had +been invented for mathematical use by one Sandys, who had left at the +end of the previous summer. It was but rarely that the master increased +the gaiety of nations by answering the question in the manner desired. + +Mr Banks, off his guard, fell into the trap. + +"A noise like this," he said curtly, and to the delighted audience came +the melodious sound of a "Mi-aou", which put O'Hara's effort completely +in the shade, and would have challenged comparison with the war-cry of +the stoutest mouser that ever trod a tile. + +A storm of imitations arose from all parts of the room. Mr Banks turned +pink, and, going straight to the root of the disturbance, forthwith +evicted O'Hara. + +O'Hara left with the satisfying feeling that his duty had been done. + +Mr Banks' room was at the top of the middle block. He ran softly down +the stairs at his best pace. It was not likely that the master would +come out into the passage to see if he was still there, but it might +happen, and it would be best to run as few risks as possible. + +He sprinted over to the junior block, raised the trap-door, and jumped +down. He knew where the ferrets had been placed, and had no difficulty +in finding them. In another minute he was in the passage again, with +the trap-door bolted behind him. + +He now asked himself--what should he do with them? He must find a safe +place, or his labours would have been in vain. + +Behind the fives-court, he thought, would be the spot. Nobody ever went +there. It meant a run of three hundred yards there and the same +distance back, and there was more than a chance that he might be seen +by one of the Powers. In which case he might find it rather hard to +explain what he was doing in the middle of the grounds with a couple of +ferrets in his possession when the hands of the clock pointed to twenty +minutes to eleven. + +But the odds were against his being seen. He risked it. + +When the bell rang for the quarter to eleven interval the ferrets were +in their new home, happily discussing a piece of meat--Renford's +contribution, held over from the morning's meal,--and O'Hara, looking +as if he had never left the passage for an instant, was making his way +through the departing mathematical class to apologise handsomely to Mr +Banks--as was his invariable custom--for his disgraceful behaviour +during the morning's lesson. + + + + +XIX + +THE MAYOR'S VISIT + + +School prefects at Wrykyn did weekly essays for the headmaster. Those +who had got their scholarships at the 'Varsity, or who were going up in +the following year, used to take their essays to him after school and +read them to him--an unpopular and nerve-destroying practice, akin to +suicide. Trevor had got his scholarship in the previous November. He +was due at the headmaster's private house at six o'clock on the present +Tuesday. He was looking forward to the ordeal not without apprehension. +The essay subject this week had been "One man's meat is another man's +poison", and Clowes, whose idea of English Essay was that it should be +a medium for intempestive frivolity, had insisted on his beginning +with, "While I cannot conscientiously go so far as to say that one +man's meat is another man's poison, yet I am certainly of opinion that +what is highly beneficial to one man may, on the other hand, to another +man, differently constituted, be extremely deleterious, and, indeed, +absolutely fatal." + +Trevor was not at all sure how the headmaster would take it. But Clowes +had seemed so cut up at his suggestion that it had better be omitted, +that he had allowed it to stand. + +He was putting the final polish on this gem of English literature at +half-past five, when Milton came in. + +"Busy?" said Milton. + +Trevor said he would be through in a minute. + +Milton took a chair, and waited. + +Trevor scratched out two words and substituted two others, made a +couple of picturesque blots, and, laying down his pen, announced that +he had finished. + +"What's up?" he said. + +"It's about the League," said Milton. + +"Found out anything?" + +"Not anything much. But I've been making inquiries. You remember I +asked you to let me look at those letters of yours?" + +Trevor nodded. This had happened on the Sunday of that week. + +"Well, I wanted to look at the post-marks." + +"By Jove, I never thought of that." + +Milton continued with the business-like air of the detective who +explains in the last chapter of the book how he did it. + +"I found, as I thought, that both letters came from the same place." + +Trevor pulled out the letters in question. "So they do," he said, +"Chesterton." + +"Do you know Chesterton?" asked Milton. + +"Only by name." + +"It's a small hamlet about two miles from here across the downs. +There's only one shop in the place, which acts as post-office and +tobacconist and everything else. I thought that if I went there and +asked about those letters, they might remember who it was that sent +them, if I showed them a photograph." + +"By Jove," said Trevor, "of course! Did you? What happened?" + +"I went there yesterday afternoon. I took about half-a-dozen +photographs of various chaps, including Rand-Brown." + +"But wait a bit. If Chesterton's two miles off, Rand-Brown couldn't +have sent the letters. He wouldn't have the time after school. He was +on the grounds both the afternoons before I got the letters." + +"I know," said Milton; "I didn't think of that at the time." + +"Well?" + +"One of the points about the Chesterton post-office is that there's no +letter-box outside. You have to go into the shop and hand anything you +want to post across the counter. I thought this was a tremendous score +for me. I thought they would be bound to remember who handed in the +letters. There can't be many at a place like that." + +"Did they remember?" + +"They remembered the letters being given in distinctly, but as for +knowing anything beyond that, they were simply futile. There was an +old woman in the shop, aged about three hundred and ten, I should +think. I shouldn't say she had ever been very intelligent, but now +she simply gibbered. I started off by laying out a shilling on some +poisonous-looking sweets. I gave the lot to a village kid when I got +out. I hope they didn't kill him. Then, having scattered ground-bait +in that way, I lugged out the photographs, mentioned the letters and +the date they had been sent, and asked her to weigh in and identify +the sender." + +"Did she?" + +"My dear chap, she identified them all, one after the other. The first +was one of Clowes. She was prepared to swear on oath that that was the +chap who had sent the letters. Then I shot a photograph of you across +the counter, and doubts began to creep in. She said she was certain it +was one of those two 'la-ads', but couldn't quite say which. To keep +her amused I fired in photograph number three--Allardyce's. She +identified that, too. At the end of ten minutes she was pretty sure +that it was one of the six--the other three were Paget, Clephane, and +Rand-Brown--but she was not going to bind herself down to any +particular one. As I had come to the end of my stock of photographs, +and was getting a bit sick of the game, I got up to go, when in came +another ornament of Chesterton from a room at the back of the shop. He +was quite a kid, not more than a hundred and fifty at the outside, so, +as a last chance, I tackled him on the subject. He looked at the +photographs for about half an hour, mumbling something about it not +being 'thiccy 'un' or 'that 'un', or 'that 'ere tother 'un', until I +began to feel I'd had enough of it. Then it came out that the real chap +who had sent the letters was a 'la-ad' with light hair, not so big as +me--" + +"That doesn't help us much," said Trevor. + +"--And a 'prarper little gennlemun'. So all we've got to do is to look +for some young duke of polished manners and exterior, with a thatch of +light hair." + +"There are three hundred and sixty-seven fellows with light hair in the +school," said Trevor, calmly. + +"Thought it was three hundred and sixty-eight myself," said Milton, +"but I may be wrong. Anyhow, there you have the results of my +investigations. If you can make anything out of them, you're welcome to +it. Good-bye." + +"Half a second," said Trevor, as he got up; "had the fellow a cap of +any sort?" + +"No. Bareheaded. You wouldn't expect him to give himself away by +wearing a house-cap?" + +Trevor went over to the headmaster's revolving this discovery in his +mind. It was not much of a clue, but the smallest clue is better than +nothing. To find out that the sender of the League letters had fair hair +narrowed the search down a little. It cleared the more raven-locked +members of the school, at any rate. Besides, by combining his information +with Milton's, the search might be still further narrowed down. He knew +that the polite letter-writer must be either in Seymour's or in +Donaldson's. The number of fair-haired youths in the two houses was +not excessive. Indeed, at the moment he could not recall any; which +rather complicated matters. + +He arrived at the headmaster's door, and knocked. He was shown into a +room at the side of the hall, near the door. The butler informed him +that the headmaster was engaged at present. Trevor, who knew the butler +slightly through having constantly been to see the headmaster on +business _via_ the front door, asked who was there. + +"Sir Eustace Briggs," said the butler, and disappeared in the direction +of his lair beyond the green baize partition at the end of the hall. + +Trevor went into the room, which was a sort of spare study, and sat +down, wondering what had brought the mayor of Wrykyn to see the +headmaster at this advanced hour. + +A quarter of an hour later the sound of voices broke in upon his peace. +The headmaster was coming down the hall with the intention of showing +his visitor out. The door of Trevor's room was ajar, and he could hear +distinctly what was being said. He had no particular desire to play the +eavesdropper, but the part was forced upon him. + +Sir Eustace seemed excited. + +"It is far from being my habit," he was saying, "to make unnecessary +complaints respecting the conduct of the lads under your care." (Sir +Eustace Briggs had a distaste for the shorter and more colloquial forms +of speech. He would have perished sooner than have substituted +"complain of your boys" for the majestic formula he had used. He spoke +as if he enjoyed choosing his words. He seemed to pause and think +before each word. Unkind people--who were jealous of his distinguished +career--used to say that he did this because he was afraid of dropping +an aitch if he relaxed his vigilance.) + +"But," continued he, "I am reluctantly forced to the unpleasant +conclusion that the dastardly outrage to which both I and the Press of +the town have called your attention is to be attributed to one of the +lads to whom I 'ave--_have_ (this with a jerk) referred." + +"I will make a thorough inquiry, Sir Eustace," said the bass voice of +the headmaster. + +"I thank you," said the mayor. "It would, under the circumstances, be +nothing more, I think, than what is distinctly advisable. The man +Samuel Wapshott, of whose narrative I have recently afforded you a +brief synopsis, stated in no uncertain terms that he found at the foot +of the statue on which the dastardly outrage was perpetrated a +diminutive ornament, in shape like the bats that are used in the game +of cricket. This ornament, he avers (with what truth I know not), was +handed by him to a youth of an age coeval with that of the lads in the +upper division of this school. The youth claimed it as his property, I +was given to understand." + +"A thorough inquiry shall be made, Sir Eustace." + +"I thank you." + +And then the door shut, and the conversation ceased. + + + + +XX + +THE FINDING OF THE BAT + + +Trevor waited till the headmaster had gone back to his library, gave +him five minutes to settle down, and then went in. + +The headmaster looked up inquiringly. + +"My essay, sir," said Trevor. + +"Ah, yes. I had forgotten." + +Trevor opened the notebook and began to read what he had written. He +finished the paragraph which owed its insertion to Clowes, and raced +hurriedly on to the next. To his surprise the flippancy passed +unnoticed, at any rate, verbally. As a rule the headmaster preferred +that quotations from back numbers of _Punch_ should be kept out of +the prefects' English Essays. And he generally said as much. But today +he seemed strangely preoccupied. A split infinitive in paragraph five, +which at other times would have made him sit up in his chair stiff with +horror, elicited no remark. The same immunity was accorded to the +insertion (inspired by Clowes, as usual) of a popular catch phrase in +the last few lines. Trevor finished with the feeling that luck had +favoured him nobly. + +"Yes," said the headmaster, seemingly roused by the silence following +on the conclusion of the essay. "Yes." Then, after a long pause, "Yes," +again. + +Trevor said nothing, but waited for further comment. + +"Yes," said the headmaster once more, "I think that is a very +fair essay. Very fair. It wants a little more--er--not quite so +much--um--yes." + +Trevor made a note in his mind to effect these improvements in future +essays, and was getting up, when the headmaster stopped him. + +"Don't go, Trevor. I wish to speak to you." + +Trevor's first thought was, perhaps naturally, that the bat was going to +be brought into discussion. He was wondering helplessly how he was going +to keep O'Hara and his midnight exploit out of the conversation, when +the headmaster resumed. "An unpleasant thing has happened, Trevor--" + +"Now we're coming to it," thought Trevor. + +"It appears, Trevor, that a considerable amount of smoking has been +going on in the school." + +Trevor breathed freely once more. It was only going to be a mere +conventional smoking row after all. He listened with more enjoyment +as the headmaster, having stopped to turn down the wick of the +reading-lamp which stood on the table at his side, and which had +begun, appropriately enough, to smoke, resumed his discourse. + +"Mr Dexter--" + +Of course, thought Trevor. If there ever was a row in the school, +Dexter was bound to be at the bottom of it. + +"Mr Dexter has just been in to see me. He reported six boys. He +discovered them in the vault beneath the junior block. Two of them were +boys in your house." + +Trevor murmured something wordless, to show that the story interested +him. + +"You knew nothing of this, of course--" + +"No, sir." + +"No. Of course not. It is difficult for the head of a house to know all +that goes on in that house." + +Was this his beastly sarcasm? Trevor asked himself. But he came to the +conclusion that it was not. After all, the head of a house is only +human. He cannot be expected to keep an eye on the private life of +every member of his house. + +"This must be stopped, Trevor. There is no saying how widespread the +practice has become or may become. What I want you to do is to go +straight back to your house and begin a complete search of the +studies." + +"Tonight, sir?" It seemed too late for such amusement. + +"Tonight. But before you go to your house, call at Mr Seymour's, and +tell Milton I should like to see him. And, Trevor." + +"Yes, sir?" + +"You will understand that I am leaving this matter to you to be dealt +with by you. I shall not require you to make any report to me. But if +you should find tobacco in any boy's room, you must punish him well, +Trevor. Punish him well." + +This meant that the culprit must be "touched up" before the house +assembled in the dining-room. Such an event did not often occur. The +last occasion had been in Paget's first term as head of Donaldson's, +when two of the senior day-room had been discovered attempting to +revive the ancient and dishonourable custom of bullying. This time, +Trevor foresaw, would set up a record in all probability. There might +be any number of devotees of the weed, and he meant to carry out his +instructions to the full, and make the criminals more unhappy than they +had been since the day of their first cigar. Trevor hated the habit of +smoking at school. He was so intensely keen on the success of the house +and the school at games, that anything which tended to damage the wind +and eye filled him with loathing. That anybody should dare to smoke in +a house which was going to play in the final for the House Football Cup +made him rage internally, and he proposed to make things bad and +unrestful for such. + +To smoke at school is to insult the divine weed. When you are obliged +to smoke in odd corners, fearing every moment that you will be +discovered, the whole meaning, poetry, romance of a pipe vanishes, and +you become like those lost beings who smoke when they are running to +catch trains. The boy who smokes at school is bound to come to a bad +end. He will degenerate gradually into a person that plays dominoes in +the smoking-rooms of A.B.C. shops with friends who wear bowler hats and +frock coats. + +Much of this philosophy Trevor expounded to Clowes in energetic +language when he returned to Donaldson's after calling at Seymour's to +deliver the message for Milton. + +Clowes became quite animated at the prospect of a real row. + +"We shall be able to see the skeletons in their cupboards," he +observed. "Every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, which follows him +about wherever he goes. Which study shall we go to first?" + +"We?" said Trevor. + +"We," repeated Clowes firmly. "I am not going to be left out of this +jaunt. I need bracing up--I'm not strong, you know--and this is just +the thing to do it. Besides, you'll want a bodyguard of some sort, in +case the infuriated occupant turns and rends you." + +"I don't see what there is to enjoy in the business," said Trevor, +gloomily. "Personally, I bar this kind of thing. By the time we've +finished, there won't be a chap in the house I'm on speaking terms +with." + +"Except me, dearest," said Clowes. "I will never desert you. It's of no +use asking me, for I will never do it. Mr Micawber has his faults, but +I will _never_ desert Mr Micawber." + +"You can come if you like," said Trevor; "we'll take the studies in +order. I suppose we needn't look up the prefects?" + +"A prefect is above suspicion. Scratch the prefects." + +"That brings us to Dixon." + +Dixon was a stout youth with spectacles, who was popularly supposed to +do twenty-two hours' work a day. It was believed that he put in two +hours sleep from eleven to one, and then got up and worked in his study +till breakfast. + +He was working when Clowes and Trevor came in. He dived head foremost +into a huge Liddell and Scott as the door opened. On hearing Trevor's +voice he slowly emerged, and a pair of round and spectacled eyes gazed +blankly at the visitors. Trevor briefly explained his errand, but the +interview lost in solemnity owing to the fact that the bare notion of +Dixon storing tobacco in his room made Clowes roar with laughter. Also, +Dixon stolidly refused to understand what Trevor was talking about, and +at the end of ten minutes, finding it hopeless to try and explain, the +two went. Dixon, with a hazy impression that he had been asked to join +in some sort of round game, and had refused the offer, returned again +to his Liddell and Scott, and continued to wrestle with the somewhat +obscure utterances of the chorus in AEschylus' _Agamemnon_. The +results of this fiasco on Trevor and Clowes were widely different. +Trevor it depressed horribly. It made him feel savage. Clowes, on the +other hand, regarded the whole affair in a spirit of rollicking farce, +and refused to see that this was a serious matter, in which the honour +of the house was involved. + +The next study was Ruthven's. This fact somewhat toned down the +exuberances of Clowes's demeanour. When one particularly dislikes a +person, one has a curious objection to seeming in good spirits in his +presence. One feels that he may take it as a sort of compliment to +himself, or, at any rate, contribute grins of his own, which would be +hateful. Clowes was as grave as Trevor when they entered the study. + +Ruthven's study was like himself, overdressed and rather futile. It ran +to little china ornaments in a good deal of profusion. It was more like +a drawing-room than a school study. + +"Sorry to disturb you, Ruthven," said Trevor. + +"Oh, come in," said Ruthven, in a tired voice. "Please shut the door; +there is a draught. Do you want anything?" + +"We've got to have a look round," said Clowes. + +"Can't you see everything there is?" + +Ruthven hated Clowes as much as Clowes hated him. + +Trevor cut into the conversation again. + +"It's like this, Ruthven," he said. "I'm awfully sorry, but the Old +Man's just told me to search the studies in case any of the fellows +have got baccy." + +Ruthven jumped up, pale with consternation. + +"You can't. I won't have you disturbing my study." + +"This is rot," said Trevor, shortly, "I've got to. It's no good making +it more unpleasant for me than it is." + +"But I've no tobacco. I swear I haven't." + +"Then why mind us searching?" said Clowes affably. + +"Come on, Ruthven," said Trevor, "chuck us over the keys. You might as +well." + +"I won't." + +"Don't be an ass, man." + +"We have here," observed Clowes, in his sad, solemn way, "a stout and +serviceable poker." He stooped, as he spoke, to pick it up. + +"Leave that poker alone," cried Ruthven. + +Clowes straightened himself. + +"I'll swop it for your keys," he said. + +"Don't be a fool." + +"Very well, then. We will now crack our first crib." + +Ruthven sprang forward, but Clowes, handing him off in football fashion +with his left hand, with his right dashed the poker against the lock of +the drawer of the table by which he stood. + +The lock broke with a sharp crack. It was not built with an eye to such +onslaught. + +"Neat for a first shot," said Clowes, complacently. "Now for the +Umustaphas and shag." + +But as he looked into the drawer he uttered a sudden cry of excitement. +He drew something out, and tossed it over to Trevor. + +"Catch, Trevor," he said quietly. "Something that'll interest you." + +Trevor caught it neatly in one hand, and stood staring at it as if he +had never seen anything like it before. And yet he had--often. For what +he had caught was a little golden bat, about an inch long by an eighth +of an inch wide. + + + + +XXI + +THE LEAGUE REVEALED + + +"What do you think of that?" said Clowes. + +Trevor said nothing. He could not quite grasp the situation. It was +not only that he had got the idea so firmly into his head that it +was Rand-Brown who had sent the letters and appropriated the bat. +Even supposing he had not suspected Rand-Brown, he would never have +dreamed of suspecting Ruthven. They had been friends. Not very close +friends--Trevor's keenness for games and Ruthven's dislike of them +prevented that--but a good deal more than acquaintances. He was so +constituted that he could not grasp the frame of mind required for +such an action as Ruthven's. It was something absolutely abnormal. + +Clowes was equally surprised, but for a different reason. It was not so +much the enormity of Ruthven's proceedings that took him aback. He +believed him, with that cheerful intolerance which a certain type of +mind affects, capable of anything. What surprised him was the fact that +Ruthven had had the ingenuity and even the daring to conduct a campaign +of this description. Cribbing in examinations he would have thought the +limit of his crimes. Something backboneless and underhand of that kind +would not have surprised him in the least. He would have said that it +was just about what he had expected all along. But that Ruthven should +blossom out suddenly as quite an ingenious and capable criminal in this +way, was a complete surprise. + +"Well, perhaps _you_'ll make a remark?" he said, turning to +Ruthven. + +Ruthven, looking very much like a passenger on a Channel steamer who +has just discovered that the motion of the vessel is affecting him +unpleasantly, had fallen into a chair when Clowes handed him off. He +sat there with a look on his pasty face which was not good to see, as +silent as Trevor. It seemed that whatever conversation there was going +to be would have to take the form of a soliloquy from Clowes. + +Clowes took a seat on the corner of the table. + +"It seems to me, Ruthven," he said, "that you'd better say +_something_. At present there's a lot that wants explaining. As +this bat has been found lying in your drawer, I suppose we may take it +that you're the impolite letter-writer?" + +Ruthven found his voice at last. + +"I'm not," he cried; "I never wrote a line." + +"Now we're getting at it," said Clowes. "I thought you couldn't have +had it in you to carry this business through on your own. Apparently +you've only been the sleeping partner in this show, though I suppose it +was you who ragged Trevor's study? Not much sleeping about that. You +took over the acting branch of the concern for that day only, I expect. +Was it you who ragged the study?" + +Ruthven stared into the fire, but said nothing. + +"Must be polite, you know, Ruthven, and answer when you're spoken to. +Was it you who ragged Trevor's study?" + +"Yes," said Ruthven. + +"Thought so." + +"Why, of course, I met you just outside," said Trevor, speaking for the +first time. "You were the chap who told me what had happened." + +Ruthven said nothing. + +"The ragging of the study seems to have been all the active work he +did," remarked Clowes. + +"No," said Trevor, "he posted the letters, whether he wrote them or +not. Milton was telling me--you remember? I told you. No, I didn't. +Milton found out that the letters were posted by a small, light-haired +fellow." + +"That's him," said Clowes, as regardless of grammar as the monks of +Rheims, pointing with the poker at Ruthven's immaculate locks. "Well, +you ragged the study and posted the letters. That was all your share. +Am I right in thinking Rand-Brown was the other partner?" + +Silence from Ruthven. + +"Am I?" persisted Clowes. + +"You may think what you like. I don't care." + +"Now we're getting rude again," complained Clowes. "_Was_ Rand-Brown +in this?" + +"Yes," said Ruthven. + +"Thought so. And who else?" + +"No one." + +"Try again." + +"I tell you there was no one else. Can't you believe a word a chap +says?" + +"A word here and there, perhaps," said Clowes, as one making a +concession, "but not many, and this isn't one of them. Have another +shot." + +Ruthven relapsed into silence. + +"All right, then," said Clowes, "we'll accept that statement. There's +just a chance that it may be true. And that's about all, I think. This +isn't my affair at all, really. It's yours, Trevor. I'm only a +spectator and camp-follower. It's your business. You'll find me in my +study." And putting the poker carefully in its place, Clowes left the +room. He went into his study, and tried to begin some work. But the +beauties of the second book of Thucydides failed to appeal to him. His +mind was elsewhere. He felt too excited with what had just happened to +translate Greek. He pulled up a chair in front of the fire, and gave +himself up to speculating how Trevor was getting on in the neighbouring +study. He was glad he had left him to finish the business. If he had +been in Trevor's place, there was nothing he would so greatly have +disliked as to have some one--however familiar a friend--interfering in +his wars and settling them for him. Left to himself, Clowes would +probably have ended the interview by kicking Ruthven into the nearest +approach to pulp compatible with the laws relating to manslaughter. He +had an uneasy suspicion that Trevor would let him down far too easily. + +The handle turned. Trevor came in, and pulled up another chair in +silence. His face wore a look of disgust. But there were no signs of +combat upon him. The toe of his boot was not worn and battered, as +Clowes would have liked to have seen it. Evidently he had not chosen to +adopt active and physical measures for the improvement of Ruthven's +moral well-being. + +"Well?" said Clowes. + +"My word, what a hound!" breathed Trevor, half to himself. + +"My sentiments to a hair," said Clowes, approvingly. "But what have you +done?" + +"I didn't do anything." + +"I was afraid you wouldn't. Did he give any explanation? What made him +go in for the thing at all? What earthly motive could he have for not +wanting Barry to get his colours, bar the fact that Rand-Brown didn't +want him to? And why should he do what Rand-Brown told him? I never even +knew they were pals, before today." + +"He told me a good deal," said Trevor. "It's one of the beastliest +things I ever heard. They neither of them come particularly well out of +the business, but Rand-Brown comes worse out of it even than Ruthven. +My word, that man wants killing." + +"That'll keep," said Clowes, nodding. "What's the yarn?" + +"Do you remember about a year ago a chap named Patterson getting +sacked?" + +Clowes nodded again. He remembered the case well. Patterson had had +gambling transactions with a Wrykyn tradesman, had been found out, and +had gone. + +"You remember what a surprise it was to everybody. It wasn't one of +those cases where half the school suspects what's going on. Those cases +always come out sooner or later. But Patterson nobody knew about." + +"Yes. Well?" + +"Nobody," said Trevor, "except Ruthven, that is. Ruthven got to know +somehow. I believe he was a bit of a pal of Patterson's at the time. +Anyhow,--they had a row, and Ruthven went to Dexter--Patterson was in +Dexter's--and sneaked. Dexter promised to keep his name out of the +business, and went straight to the Old Man, and Patterson got turfed +out on the spot. Then somehow or other Rand-Brown got to know about +it--I believe Ruthven must have told him by accident some time or other. +After that he simply had to do everything Rand-Brown wanted him to. +Otherwise he said that he would tell the chaps about the Patterson +affair. That put Ruthven in a dead funk." + +"Of course," said Clowes; "I should imagine friend Ruthven would have +got rather a bad time of it. But what made them think of starting the +League? It was a jolly smart idea. Rand-Brown's, of course?" + +"Yes. I suppose he'd heard about it, and thought something might be +made out of it if it were revived." + +"And were Ruthven and he the only two in it?" + +"Ruthven swears they were, and I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't telling +the truth, for once in his life. You see, everything the League's done +so far could have been done by him and Rand-Brown, without anybody +else's help. The only other studies that were ragged were Mill's and +Milton's--both in Seymour's. + +"Yes," said Clowes. + +There was a pause. Clowes put another shovelful of coal on the fire. + +"What are you going to do to Ruthven?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing? Hang it, he doesn't deserve to get off like that. He isn't as +bad as Rand-Brown--quite--but he's pretty nearly as finished a little +beast as you could find." + +"Finished is just the word," said Trevor. "He's going at the end of the +week." + +"Going? What! sacked?" + +"Yes. The Old Man's been finding out things about him, apparently, and +this smoking row has just added the finishing-touch to his discoveries. +He's particularly keen against smoking just now for some reason." + +"But was Ruthven in it?" + +"Yes. Didn't I tell you? He was one of the fellows Dexter caught in the +vault. There were two in this house, you remember?" + +"Who was the other?" + +"That man Dashwood. Has the study next to Paget's old one. He's going, +too." + +"Scarcely knew him. What sort of a chap was he?" + +"Outsider. No good to the house in any way. He won't be missed." + +"And what are you going to do about Rand-Brown?" + +"Fight him, of course. What else could I do?" + +"But you're no match for him." + +"We'll see." + +"But you _aren't_," persisted Clowes. "He can give you a stone +easily, and he's not a bad boxer either. Moriarty didn't beat him so +very cheaply in the middle-weight this year. You wouldn't have a +chance." + +Trevor flared up. + +"Heavens, man," he cried, "do you think I don't know all that myself? +But what on earth would you have me do? Besides, he may be a good +boxer, but he's got no pluck at all. I might outstay him." + +"Hope so," said Clowes. + +But his tone was not hopeful. + + + + +XXII + +A DRESS REHEARSAL + + +Some people in Trevor's place might have taken the earliest opportunity +of confronting Rand-Brown, so as to settle the matter in hand without +delay. Trevor thought of doing this, but finally decided to let the +matter rest for a day, until he should have found out with some +accuracy what chance he stood. + +After four o'clock, therefore, on the next day, having had tea in his +study, he went across to the baths, in search of O'Hara. He intended +that before the evening was over the Irishman should have imparted to +him some of his skill with the hands. He did not know that for a man +absolutely unscientific with his fists there is nothing so fatal as to +take a boxing lesson on the eve of battle. A little knowledge is a +dangerous thing. He is apt to lose his recklessness--which might have +stood by him well--in exchange for a little quite useless science. He +is neither one thing nor the other, neither a natural fighter nor a +skilful boxer. + +This point O'Hara endeavoured to press upon him as soon as he had +explained why it was that he wanted coaching on this particular +afternoon. + +The Irishman was in the gymnasium, punching the ball, when Trevor found +him. He generally put in a quarter of an hour with the punching-ball +every evening, before Moriarty turned up for the customary six rounds. + +"Want me to teach ye a few tricks?" he said. "What's that for?" + +"I've got a mill coming on soon," explained Trevor, trying to make the +statement as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a +school prefect, who was also captain of football, head of a house, and +in the cricket eleven, to be engaged for a fight in the near future. + +"Mill!" exclaimed O'Hara. "You! An' why?" + +"Never mind why," said Trevor. "I'll tell you afterwards, perhaps. +Shall I put on the gloves now?" + +"Wait," said O'Hara, "I must do my quarter of an hour with the ball +before I begin teaching other people how to box. Have ye a watch?" + +"Yes." + +"Then time me. I'll do four rounds of three minutes each, with a +minute's rest in between. That's more than I'll do at Aldershot, but +it'll get me fit. Ready?" + +"Time," said Trevor. + +He watched O'Hara assailing the swinging ball with considerable envy. +Why, he wondered, had he not gone in for boxing? Everybody ought to +learn to box. It was bound to come in useful some time or other. Take +his own case. He was very much afraid--no, afraid was not the right +word, for he was not that. He was very much of opinion that Rand-Brown +was going to have a most enjoyable time when they met. And the final +house-match was to be played next Monday. If events turned out as he +could not help feeling they were likely to turn out, he would be too +battered to play in that match. Donaldson's would probably win whether +he played or not, but it would be bitter to be laid up on such an +occasion. On the other hand, he must go through with it. He did not +believe in letting other people take a hand in settling his private +quarrels. + +But he wished he had learned to box. If only he could hit that dancing, +jumping ball with a fifth of the skill that O'Hara was displaying, his +wiriness and pluck might see him through. O'Hara finished his fourth +round with his leathern opponent, and sat down, panting. + +"Pretty useful, that," commented Trevor, admiringly. + +"Ye should see Moriarty," gasped O'Hara. + +"Now, will ye tell me why it is you're going to fight, and with whom +you're going to fight?" + +"Very well. It's with Rand-Brown." + +"Rand-Brown!" exclaimed O'Hara. "But, me dearr man, he'll ate you." + +Trevor gave a rather annoyed laugh. "I must say I've got a nice, +cheery, comforting lot of friends," he said. "That's just what Clowes +has been trying to explain to me." + +"Clowes is quite right," said O'Hara, seriously. "Has the thing gone +too far for ye to back out? Without climbing down, of course," he +added. + +"Yes," said Trevor, "there's no question of my getting out of it. I +daresay I could. In fact, I know I could. But I'm not going to." + +"But, me dearr man, ye haven't an earthly chance. I assure ye ye +haven't. I've seen Rand-Brown with the gloves on. That was last term. +He's not put them on since Moriarty bate him in the middles, so he may +be out of practice. But even then he'd be a bad man to tackle. He's big +an' he's strong, an' if he'd only had the heart in him he'd have been +going up to Aldershot instead of Moriarty. That's what he'd be doing. +An' you can't box at all. Never even had the gloves on." + +"Never. I used to scrap when I was a kid, though." + +"That's no use," said O'Hara, decidedly. "But you haven't said what it +is that ye've got against Rand-Brown. What is it?" + +"I don't see why I shouldn't tell you. You're in it as well. In fact, +if it hadn't been for the bat turning up, you'd have been considerably +more in it than I am." + +"What!" cried O'Hara. "Where did you find it? Was it in the grounds? +When was it you found it?" + +Whereupon Trevor gave him a very full and exact account of what had +happened. He showed him the two letters from the League, touched on +Milton's connection with the affair, traced the gradual development of +his suspicions, and described with some approach to excitement the +scene in Ruthven's study, and the explanations that had followed it. + +"Now do you wonder," he concluded, "that I feel as if a few rounds with +Rand-Brown would do me good." + +O'Hara breathed hard. + +"My word!" he said, "I'd like to see ye kill him." + +"But," said Trevor, "as you and Clowes have been pointing out to me, if +there's going to be a corpse, it'll be me. However, I mean to try. Now +perhaps you wouldn't mind showing me a few tricks." + +"Take my advice," said O'Hara, "and don't try any of that foolery." + +"Why, I thought you were such a believer in science," said Trevor in +surprise. + +"So I am, if you've enough of it. But it's the worst thing ye can do to +learn a trick or two just before a fight, if you don't know anything +about the game already. A tough, rushing fighter is ten times as good +as a man who's just begun to learn what he oughtn't to do." + +"Well, what do you advise me to do, then?" asked Trevor, impressed by +the unwonted earnestness with which the Irishman delivered this +pugilistic homily, which was a paraphrase of the views dinned into the +ears of every novice by the school instructor. + +"I must do something." + +"The best thing ye can do," said O'Hara, thinking for a moment, "is to +put on the gloves and have a round or two with me. Here's Moriarty at +last. We'll get him to time us." + +As much explanation as was thought good for him having been given to +the newcomer, to account for Trevor's newly-acquired taste for things +pugilistic, Moriarty took the watch, with instructions to give them two +minutes for the first round. + +"Go as hard as you can," said O'Hara to Trevor, as they faced one +another, "and hit as hard as you like. It won't be any practice if you +don't. I sha'n't mind being hit. It'll do me good for Aldershot. See?" + +Trevor said he saw. + +"Time," said Moriarty. + +Trevor went in with a will. He was a little shy at first of putting all +his weight into his blows. It was hard to forget that he felt friendly +towards O'Hara. But he speedily awoke to the fact that the Irishman +took his boxing very seriously, and was quite a different person when +he had the gloves on. When he was so equipped, the man opposite him +ceased to be either friend or foe in a private way. He was simply an +opponent, and every time he hit him was one point. And, when he entered +the ring, his only object in life for the next three minutes was to +score points. Consequently Trevor, sparring lightly and in rather a +futile manner at first, was woken up by a stinging flush hit between +the eyes. After that he, too, forgot that he liked the man before him, +and rushed him in all directions. There was no doubt as to who would +have won if it had been a competition. Trevor's guard was of the most +rudimentary order, and O'Hara got through when and how he liked. But +though he took a good deal, he also gave a good deal, and O'Hara +confessed himself not altogether sorry when Moriarty called "Time". + +"Man," he said regretfully, "why ever did ye not take up boxing before? +Ye'd have made a splendid middle-weight." + +"Well, have I a chance, do you think?" inquired Trevor. + +"Ye might do it with luck," said O'Hara, very doubtfully. "But," he +added, "I'm afraid ye've not much chance." + +And with this poor encouragement from his trainer and sparring-partner, +Trevor was forced to be content. + + + + +XXIII + +WHAT RENFORD SAW + + +The health of Master Harvey of Seymour's was so delicately constituted +that it was an absolute necessity that he should consume one or more +hot buns during the quarter of an hour's interval which split up +morning school. He was tearing across the junior gravel towards the +shop on the morning following Trevor's sparring practice with O'Hara, +when a melodious treble voice called his name. It was Renford. He +stopped, to allow his friend to come up with him, and then made as if +to resume his way to the shop. But Renford proposed an amendment. +"Don't go to the shop," he said, "I want to talk." + +"Well, can't you talk in the shop?" + +"Not what I want to tell you. It's private. Come for a stroll." + +Harvey hesitated. There were few things he enjoyed so much as exclusive +items of school gossip (scandal preferably), but hot new buns were +among those few things. However, he decided on this occasion to feed +the mind at the expense of the body. He accepted Renford's invitation. + + +"What is it?" he asked, as they made for the football field. "What's +been happening?" + +"It's frightfully exciting," said Renford. + +"What's up?" + +"You mustn't tell any one." + +"All right. Of course not." + +"Well, then, there's been a big fight, and I'm one of the only chaps +who know about it so far." + +"A fight?" Harvey became excited. "Who between?" + +Renford paused before delivering his news, to emphasise the importance +of it. + +"It was between O'Hara and Rand-Brown," he said at length. + +"_By Jove!_" said Harvey. Then a suspicion crept into his mind. + +"Look here, Renford," he said, "if you're trying to green me--" + +"I'm not, you ass," replied Renford indignantly. "It's perfectly true. +I saw it myself." + +"By Jove, did you really? Where was it? When did it come off? Was it a +good one? Who won?" + +"It was the best one I've ever seen." + +"Did O'Hara beat him? I hope he did. O'Hara's a jolly good sort." + +"Yes. They had six rounds. Rand-Brown got knocked out in the middle of +the sixth." + +"What, do you mean really knocked out, or did he just chuck it?" + +"No. He was really knocked out. He was on the floor for quite a time. +By Jove, you should have seen it. O'Hara was ripping in the sixth +round. He was all over him." + +"Tell us about it," said Harvey, and Renford told. + +"I'd got up early," he said, "to feed the ferrets, and I was just +cutting over to the fives-courts with their grub, when, just as I got +across the senior gravel, I saw O'Hara and Moriarty standing waiting +near the second court. O'Hara knows all about the ferrets, so I didn't +try and cut or anything. I went up and began talking to him. I noticed +he didn't look particularly keen on seeing me at first. I asked him if +he was going to play fives. Then he said no, and told me what he'd +really come for. He said he and Rand-Brown had had a row, and they'd +agreed to have it out that morning in one of the fives-courts. Of +course, when I heard that, I was all on to see it, so I said I'd wait, +if he didn't mind. He said he didn't care, so long as I didn't tell +everybody, so I said I wouldn't tell anybody except you, so he said all +right, then, I could stop if I wanted to. So that was how I saw it. +Well, after we'd been waiting a few minutes, Rand-Brown came in sight, +with that beast Merrett in our house, who'd come to second him. It was +just like one of those duels you read about, you know. Then O'Hara said +that as I was the only one there with a watch--he and Rand-Brown were +in footer clothes, and Merrett and Moriarty hadn't got their tickers on +them--I'd better act as timekeeper. So I said all right, I would, and +we went to the second fives-court. It's the biggest of them, you know. +I stood outside on the bench, looking through the wire netting over the +door, so as not to be in the way when they started scrapping. O'Hara +and Rand-Brown took off their blazers and sweaters, and chucked them to +Moriarty and Merrett, and then Moriarty and Merrett went and stood in +two corners, and O'Hara and Rand-Brown walked into the middle and stood +up to one another. Rand-Brown was miles the heaviest--by a stone, I +should think--and he was taller and had a longer reach. But O'Hara +looked much fitter. Rand-Brown looked rather flabby. + +"I sang out 'Time' through the wire netting, and they started off at +once. O'Hara offered to shake hands, but Rand-Brown wouldn't. So they +began without it. + +"The first round was awfully fast. They kept having long rallies all +over the place. O'Hara was a jolly sight quicker, and Rand-Brown didn't +seem able to guard his hits at all. But he hit frightfully hard +himself, great, heavy slogs, and O'Hara kept getting them in the face. +At last he got one bang in the mouth which knocked him down flat. He +was up again in a second, and was starting to rush, when I looked at +the watch, and found that I'd given them nearly half a minute too much +already. So I shouted 'Time', and made up my mind I'd keep more of an +eye on the watch next round. I'd got so jolly excited, watching them, +that I'd forgot I was supposed to be keeping time for them. They had +only asked for a minute between the rounds, but as I'd given them half +a minute too long in the first round, I chucked in a bit extra in the +rest, so that they were both pretty fit by the time I started them +again. + +"The second round was just like the first, and so was the third. O'Hara +kept getting the worst of it. He was knocked down three or four times +more, and once, when he'd rushed Rand-Brown against one of the walls, +he hit out and missed, and barked his knuckles jolly badly against the +wall. That was in the middle of the third round, and Rand-Brown had it +all his own way for the rest of the round--for about two minutes, that +is to say. He hit O'Hara about all over the shop. I was so jolly keen +on O'Hara's winning, that I had half a mind to call time early, so as +to give him time to recover. But I thought it would be a low thing to +do, so I gave them their full three minutes. + +"Directly they began the fourth round, I noticed that things were going +to change a bit. O'Hara had given up his rushing game, and was waiting +for his man, and when he came at him he'd put in a hot counter, nearly +always at the body. After a bit Rand-Brown began to get cautious, and +wouldn't rush, so the fourth round was the quietest there had been. In +the last minute they didn't hit each other at all. They simply sparred +for openings. It was in the fifth round that O'Hara began to forge +ahead. About half way through he got in a ripper, right in the wind, +which almost doubled Rand-Brown up, and then he started rushing again. +Rand-Brown looked awfully bad at the end of the round. Round six was +ripping. I never saw two chaps go for each other so. It was one long +rally. Then--how it happened I couldn't see, they were so quick--just +as they had been at it a minute and a half, there was a crack, and the +next thing I saw was Rand-Brown on the ground, looking beastly. He went +down absolutely flat; his heels and head touched the ground at the same +time. + + +"I counted ten out loud in the professional way like they do at the +National Sporting Club, you know, and then said 'O'Hara wins'. I felt +an awful swell. After about another half-minute, Rand-Brown was all +right again, and he got up and went back to the house with Merrett, and +O'Hara and Moriarty went off to Dexter's, and I gave the ferrets their +grub, and cut back to breakfast." + +"Rand-Brown wasn't at breakfast," said Harvey. + +"No. He went to bed. I wonder what'll happen. Think there'll be a row +about it?" + +"Shouldn't think so," said Harvey. "They never do make rows about +fights, and neither of them is a prefect, so I don't see what it +matters if they _do_ fight. But, I say--" + +"What's up?" + +"I wish," said Harvey, his voice full of acute regret, "that it had +been my turn to feed those ferrets." + +"I don't," said Renford cheerfully. "I wouldn't have missed that mill +for something. Hullo, there's the bell. We'd better run." + +When Trevor called at Seymour's that afternoon to see Rand-Brown, with +a view to challenging him to deadly combat, and found that O'Hara had +been before him, he ought to have felt relieved. His actual feeling was +one of acute annoyance. It seemed to him that O'Hara had exceeded the +limits of friendship. It was all very well for him to take over the +Rand-Brown contract, and settle it himself, in order to save Trevor +from a very bad quarter of an hour, but Trevor was one of those people +who object strongly to the interference of other people in their +private business. He sought out O'Hara and complained. Within two +minutes O'Hara's golden eloquence had soothed him and made him view the +matter in quite a different light. What O'Hara pointed out was that it +was not Trevor's affair at all, but his own. Who, he asked, had been +likely to be damaged most by Rand-Brown's manoeuvres in connection with +the lost bat? Trevor was bound to admit that O'Hara was that person. +Very well, then, said O'Hara, then who had a better right to fight +Rand-Brown? And Trevor confessed that no one else had a better. + +"Then I suppose," he said, "that I shall have to do nothing about it?" + +"That's it," said O'Hara. + +"It'll be rather beastly meeting the man after this," said Trevor, +presently. "Do you think he might possibly leave at the end of term?" + +"He's leaving at the end of the week," said O'Hara. "He was one of the +fellows Dexter caught in the vault that evening. You won't see much +more of Rand-Brown." + +"I'll try and put up with that," said Trevor. + +"And so will I," replied O'Hara. "And I shouldn't think Milton would be +so very grieved." + +"No," said Trevor. "I tell you what will make him sick, though, and +that is your having milled with Rand-Brown. It's a job he'd have liked +to have taken on himself." + + + + +XXIV + +CONCLUSION + + +Into the story at this point comes the narrative of Charles Mereweather +Cook, aged fourteen, a day-boy. + +Cook arrived at the school on the tenth of March, at precisely nine +o'clock, in a state of excitement. + +He said there was a row on in the town. + +Cross-examined, he said there was no end of a row on in the town. + +During morning school he explained further, whispering his tale into +the attentive ear of Knight of the School House, who sat next to him. + +What sort of a row, Knight wanted to know. + +Cook deposed that he had been riding on his bicycle past the entrance +to the Recreation Grounds on his way to school, when his eye was +attracted by the movements of a mass of men just inside the gate. They +appeared to be fighting. Witness did not stop to watch, much as he +would have liked to do so. Why not? Why, because he was late already, +and would have had to scorch anyhow, in order to get to school in time. +And he had been late the day before, and was afraid that old Appleby +(the master of the form) would give him beans if he were late again. +Wherefore he had no notion of what the men were fighting about, but he +betted that more would be heard about it. Why? Because, from what he +saw of it, it seemed a jolly big thing. There must have been quite +three hundred men fighting. (Knight, satirically, "_Pile_ it on!") +Well, quite a hundred, anyhow. Fifty a side. And fighting like +anything. He betted there would be something about it in the +_Wrykyn_ _Patriot_ tomorrow. He shouldn't wonder if somebody +had been killed. What were they scrapping about? How should _he_ +know! + +Here Mr Appleby, who had been trying for the last five minutes to find +out where the whispering noise came from, at length traced it to its +source, and forthwith requested Messrs Cook and Knight to do him two +hundred lines, adding that, if he heard them talking again, he would +put them into the extra lesson. Silence reigned from that moment. + +Next day, while the form was wrestling with the moderately exciting +account of Caesar's doings in Gaul, Master Cook produced from his +pocket a newspaper cutting. This, having previously planted a forcible +blow in his friend's ribs with an elbow to attract the latter's +attention, he handed to Knight, and in dumb show requested him to +peruse the same. Which Knight, feeling no interest whatever in Caesar's +doings in Gaul, and having, in consequence, a good deal of time on his +hands, proceeded to do. The cutting was headed "Disgraceful Fracas", +and was written in the elegant style that was always so marked a +feature of the _Wrykyn Patriot_. + +"We are sorry to have to report," it ran, "another of those deplorable +ebullitions of local Hooliganism, to which it has before now been our +painful duty to refer. Yesterday the Recreation Grounds were made the +scene of as brutal an exhibition of savagery as has ever marred the +fair fame of this town. Our readers will remember how on a previous +occasion, when the fine statue of Sir Eustace Briggs was found covered +with tar, we attributed the act to the malevolence of the Radical +section of the community. Events have proved that we were right. +Yesterday a body of youths, belonging to the rival party, was +discovered in the very act of repeating the offence. A thick coating of +tar had already been administered, when several members of the rival +faction appeared. A free fight of a peculiarly violent nature +immediately ensued, with the result that, before the police could +interfere, several of the combatants had received severe bruises. +Fortunately the police then arrived on the scene, and with great +difficulty succeeded in putting a stop to the _fracas_. Several +arrests were made. + +"We have no desire to discourage legitimate party rivalry, but we feel +justified in strongly protesting against such dastardly tricks as those +to which we have referred. We can assure our opponents that they can +gain nothing by such conduct." + +There was a good deal more to the effect that now was the time for all +good men to come to the aid of the party, and that the constituents of +Sir Eustace Briggs must look to it that they failed not in the hour of +need, and so on. That was what the _Wrykyn Patriot_ had to say on +the subject. + +O'Hara managed to get hold of a copy of the paper, and showed it to +Clowes and Trevor. + +"So now," he said, "it's all right, ye see. They'll never suspect it +wasn't the same people that tarred the statue both times. An' ye've got +the bat back, so it's all right, ye see." + +"The only thing that'll trouble you now," said Clowes, "will be your +conscience." + +O'Hara intimated that he would try and put up with that. + +"But isn't it a stroke of luck," he said, "that they should have gone +and tarred Sir Eustace again so soon after Moriarty and I did it?" + +Clowes said gravely that it only showed the force of good example. + +"Yes. They wouldn't have thought of it, if it hadn't been for us," +chortled O'Hara. "I wonder, now, if there's anything else we could do +to that statue!" he added, meditatively. + +"My good lunatic," said Clowes, "don't you think you've done almost +enough for one term?" + +"Well, 'myes," replied O'Hara thoughtfully, "perhaps we have, I +suppose." + + * * * * * + +The term wore on. Donaldson's won the final house-match by a matter of +twenty-six points. It was, as they had expected, one of the easiest +games they had had to play in the competition. Bryant's, who were their +opponents, were not strong, and had only managed to get into the final +owing to their luck in drawing weak opponents for the trial heats. The +real final, that had decided the ownership of the cup, had been +Donaldson's _v._ Seymour's. + +Aldershot arrived, and the sports. Drummond and O'Hara covered +themselves with glory, and brought home silver medals. But Moriarty, to +the disappointment of the school, which had counted on his pulling off +the middles, met a strenuous gentleman from St Paul's in the final, and +was prematurely outed in the first minute of the third round. To him, +therefore, there fell but a medal of bronze. + +It was on the Sunday after the sports that Trevor's connection with the +bat ceased--as far, that is to say, as concerned its unpleasant +character (as a piece of evidence that might be used to his +disadvantage). He had gone to supper with the headmaster, accompanied +by Clowes and Milton. The headmaster nearly always invited a few of the +house prefects to Sunday supper during the term. Sir Eustace Briggs +happened to be there. He had withdrawn his insinuations concerning the +part supposedly played by a member of the school in the matter of the +tarred statue, and the headmaster had sealed the _entente +cordiale_ by asking him to supper. + +An ordinary man might have considered it best to keep off the delicate +subject. Not so Sir Eustace Briggs. He was on to it like glue. He +talked of little else throughout the whole course of the meal. + +"My suspicions," he boomed, towards the conclusion of the feast, "which +have, I am rejoiced to say, proved so entirely void of foundation and +significance, were aroused in the first instance, as I mentioned +before, by the narrative of the man Samuel Wapshott." + +Nobody present showed the slightest desire to learn what the man Samuel +Wapshott had had to say for himself, but Sir Eustace, undismayed, +continued as if the whole table were hanging on his words. + +"The man Samuel Wapshott," he said, "distinctly asserted that a small +gold ornament, shaped like a bat, was handed by him to a lad of age +coeval with these lads here." + +The headmaster interposed. He had evidently heard more than enough of +the man Samuel Wapshott. + +"He must have been mistaken," he said briefly. "The bat which Trevor is +wearing on his watch-chain at this moment is the only one of its kind +that I know of. You have never lost it, Trevor?" + +Trevor thought for a moment. _He_ had never lost it. He replied +diplomatically, "It has been in a drawer nearly all the term, sir," he +said. + +"A drawer, hey?" remarked Sir Eustace Briggs. "Ah! A very sensible +place to keep it in, my boy. You could have no better place, in my +opinion." + +And Trevor agreed with him, with the mental reservation +that it rather depended on whom the drawer belonged to. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bat, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAT *** + +This file should be named gldbt10.txt or gldbt10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, gldbt11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, gldbt10a.txt + +Produced by Suzanne L. 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Wodehouse + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Gold Bat + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6879] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 6, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAT *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>THE GOLD BAT</h1> + +<h2>by P. G. Wodehouse</h2> + +<p>1904</p> + +<p>[Dedication]<br /> +To<br /> +THAT PRINCE OF SLACKERS,<br /> +HERBERT WESTBROOK</p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<p>Chapter</p> + +<p>I THE FIFTEENTH PLACE</p> + +<p>II THE GOLD BAT</p> + +<p>III THE MAYOR’S STATUE</p> + +<p>IV THE LEAGUE’S WARNING</p> + +<p>V MILL RECEIVES VISITORS</p> + +<p>VI TREVOR REMAINS FIRM</p> + +<p>VII “WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE”</p> + +<p>VIII O’HARA ON THE TRACK</p> + +<p>IX MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS</p> + +<p>X BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS</p> + +<p>XI THE HOUSE-MATCHES</p> + +<p>XII NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT</p> + +<p>XIII VICTIM NUMBER THREE</p> + +<p>XIV THE WHITE FIGURE</p> + +<p>XV A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE</p> + +<p>XVI THE RIPTON MATCH</p> + +<p>XVII THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT</p> + +<p>XVIII O’HARA EXCELS HIMSELF</p> + +<p>XIX THE MAYOR’S VISIT</p> + +<p>XX THE FINDING OF THE BAT</p> + +<p>XXI THE LEAGUE REVEALED</p> + +<p>XXII A DRESS REHEARSAL</p> + +<p>XXIII WHAT RENFORD SAW</p> + +<p>XXIV CONCLUSION</p> + +<h2>I</h2> + +<h2>THE FIFTEENTH PLACE</h2> + +<p>“Outside!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be an idiot, man.  I bagged +it first.”</p> + +<p>“My dear chap, I’ve been waiting here +a month.”</p> + +<p>“When you fellows have <i>quite</i> +finished rotting about in front of that bath don’t +let <i>me</i> detain you.”</p> + +<p>“Anybody seen that sponge?”</p> + +<p>“Well, look here”—­this in a +tone of compromise—­“let’s toss +for it.”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Odd man out.”</p> + +<p>All of which, being interpreted, meant +that the first match of the Easter term had just come +to an end, and that those of the team who, being day +boys, changed over at the pavilion, instead of performing +the operation at leisure and in comfort, as did the +members of houses, were discussing the vital question—­who +was to have first bath?</p> + +<p>The Field Sports Committee at Wrykyn—­that +is, at the school which stood some half-mile outside +that town and took its name from it—­were +not lavish in their expenditure as regarded the changing +accommodation in the pavilion.  Letters appeared +in every second number of the <i>Wrykinian</i>, some +short, others long, some from members of the school, +others from Old Boys, all protesting against the condition +of the first, second, and third fifteen dressing-rooms.  +“Indignant” would inquire acidly, in half +a page of small type, if the editor happened to be +aware that there was no hair-brush in the second room, +and only half a comb.  “Disgusted O. W.” +would remark that when he came down with the Wandering +Zephyrs to play against the third fifteen, the +water supply had suddenly and mysteriously failed, +and the W.Z.’s had been obliged to go home as +they were, in a state of primeval grime, and he thought +that this was “a very bad thing in a school of +over six hundred boys”, though what the number +of boys had to do with the fact that there was no +water he omitted to explain.  The editor would +express his regret in brackets, and things would go +on as before.</p> + +<p>There was only one bath in the first +fifteen room, and there were on the present occasion +six claimants to it.  And each claimant was of +the fixed opinion that, whatever happened subsequently, +he was going to have it first.  Finally, on the +suggestion of Otway, who had reduced tossing to a +fine art, a mystic game of Tommy Dodd was played.  +Otway having triumphantly obtained first innings, +the conversation reverted to the subject of the match.</p> + +<p>The Easter term always opened with +a scratch game against a mixed team of masters and +old boys, and the school usually won without any great +exertion.  On this occasion the match had been +rather more even than the average, and the team had +only just pulled the thing off by a couple of tries +to a goal.  Otway expressed an opinion that the +school had played badly.</p> + +<p>“Why on earth don’t you +forwards let the ball out occasionally?” he +asked.  Otway was one of the first fifteen halves.</p> + +<p>“They were so jolly heavy in +the scrum,” said Maurice, one of the forwards.  +“And when we did let it out, the outsides nearly +always mucked it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it wasn’t the halves’ +fault.  We always got it out to the centres.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t the centres,” +put in Robinson.  “They played awfully well.  +Trevor was ripping.”</p> + +<p>“Trevor always is,” said +Otway; “I should think he’s about the best +captain we’ve had here for a long time.  +He’s certainly one of the best centres.”</p> + +<p>“Best there’s been since Rivers-Jones,” +said Clephane.</p> + +<p>Rivers-Jones was one of those players +who mark an epoch.  He had been in the team fifteen +years ago, and had left Wrykyn to captain Cambridge +and play three years in succession for Wales.  +The school regarded the standard set by him as one +that did not admit of comparison.  However good +a Wrykyn centre three-quarter might be, the most he +could hope to be considered was “the best <i>since</i> +Rivers-Jones”.  “Since” Rivers-Jones, +however, covered fifteen years, and to be looked on +as the best centre the school could boast of during +that time, meant something.  For Wrykyn knew how +to play football.</p> + +<p>Since it had been decided thus that +the faults in the school attack did not lie with the +halves, forwards, or centres, it was more or less +evident that they must be attributable to the wings.  +And the search for the weak spot was even further +narrowed down by the general verdict that Clowes, +on the left wing, had played well.  With a beautiful +unanimity the six occupants of the first fifteen room +came to the conclusion that the man who had let the +team down that day had been the man on the right—­Rand-Brown, +to wit, of Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bet he doesn’t +stay in the first long,” said Clephane, who was +now in the bath, <i>vice</i> Otway, retired.  “I +suppose they had to try him, as he was the senior +wing three-quarter of the second, but he’s no +earthly good.”</p> + +<p>“He only got into the second +because he’s big,” was Robinson’s +opinion.  “A man who’s big and strong +can always get his second colours.”</p> + +<p>“Even if he’s a funk, +like Rand-Brown,” said Clephane.  “Did +any of you chaps notice the way he let Paget through +that time he scored for them?  He simply didn’t +attempt to tackle him.  He could have brought him +down like a shot if he’d only gone for him.  +Paget was running straight along the touch-line, and +hadn’t any room to dodge.  I know Trevor +was jolly sick about it.  And then he let him +through once before in just the same way in the first +half, only Trevor got round and stopped him.  He +was rank.”</p> + +<p>“Missed every other pass, too,” said Otway.</p> + +<p>Clephane summed up.</p> + +<p>“He was rank,” he said again.  “Trevor +won’t keep him in the team long.”</p> + +<p>“I wish Paget hadn’t left,” +said Otway, referring to the wing three-quarter who, +by leaving unexpectedly at the end of the Christmas +term, had let Rand-Brown into the team.  His loss +was likely to be felt.  Up till Christmas Wrykyn +had done well, and Paget had been their scoring man.  +Rand-Brown had occupied a similar position in the second +fifteen.  He was big and speedy, and in second +fifteen matches these qualities make up for a great +deal.  If a man scores one or two tries in nearly +every match, people are inclined to overlook in him +such failings as timidity and clumsiness.  It +is only when he comes to be tried in football of a +higher class that he is seen through.  In the second +fifteen the fact that Rand-Brown was afraid to tackle +his man had almost escaped notice.  But the habit +would not do in first fifteen circles.</p> + +<p>“All the same,” said Clephane, +pursuing his subject, “if they don’t play +him, I don’t see who they’re going to get.  +He’s the best of the second three-quarters, +as far as I can see.”</p> + +<p>It was this very problem that was +puzzling Trevor, as he walked off the field with Paget +and Clowes, when they had got into their blazers after +the match.  Clowes was in the same house as Trevor—­Donaldson’s—­and +Paget was staying there, too.  He had been head +of Donaldson’s up to Christmas.</p> + +<p>“It strikes me,” said +Paget, “the school haven’t got over the +holidays yet.  I never saw such a lot of slackers.  +You ought to have taken thirty points off the sort +of team you had against you today.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever known the school +play well on the second day of term?” asked +Clowes.  “The forwards always play as if +the whole thing bored them to death.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t the forwards +that mattered so much,” said Trevor.  “They’ll +shake down all right after a few matches.  A little +running and passing will put them right.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s hope so,” +Paget observed, “or we might as well scratch +to Ripton at once.  There’s a jolly sight +too much of the mince-pie and Christmas pudding about +their play at present.”  There was a pause.  +Then Paget brought out the question towards which +he had been moving all the time.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of Rand-Brown?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>It was pretty clear by the way he +spoke what he thought of that player himself, but +in discussing with a football captain the capabilities +of the various members of his team, it is best to +avoid a too positive statement one way or the other +before one has heard his views on the subject.  +And Paget was one of those people who like to know +the opinions of others before committing themselves.</p> + +<p>Clowes, on the other hand, was in +the habit of forming his views on his own account, +and expressing them.  If people agreed with them, +well and good:  it afforded strong presumptive +evidence of their sanity.  If they disagreed, +it was unfortunate, but he was not going to alter his +opinions for that, unless convinced at great length +that they were unsound.  He summed things up, +and gave you the result.  You could take it or +leave it, as you preferred.</p> + +<p>“I thought he was bad,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Bad!” exclaimed Trevor, +“he was a disgrace.  One can understand a +chap having his off-days at any game, but one doesn’t +expect a man in the Wrykyn first to funk.  He +mucked five out of every six passes I gave him, too, +and the ball wasn’t a bit slippery.  Still, +I shouldn’t mind that so much if he had only +gone for his man properly.  It isn’t being +out of practice that makes you funk.  And even +when he did have a try at you, Paget, he always went +high.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said Clowes thoughtfully, +“would seem to show that he was game.”</p> + +<p>Nobody so much as smiled.  Nobody +ever did smile at Clowes’ essays in wit, perhaps +because of the solemn, almost sad, tone of voice in +which he delivered them.  He was tall and dark +and thin, and had a pensive eye, which encouraged +the more soulful of his female relatives to entertain +hopes that he would some day take orders.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Paget, relieved +at finding that he did not stand alone in his views +on Rand-Brown’s performance, “I must say +I thought he was awfully bad myself.”</p> + +<p>“I shall try somebody else next +match,” said Trevor.  “It’ll +be rather hard, though.  The man one would naturally +put in, Bryce, left at Christmas, worse luck.”</p> + +<p>Bryce was the other wing three-quarter +of the second fifteen.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there anybody in the third?” +asked Paget.</p> + +<p>“Barry,” said Clowes briefly.</p> + +<p>“Clowes thinks Barry’s good,” explained +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“He <i>is</i> good,” said +Clowes.  “I admit he’s small, but he +can tackle.”</p> + +<p>“The question is, would he be +any good in the first?  A chap might do jolly +well for the third, and still not be worth trying for +the first.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember much +about Barry,” said Paget, “except being +collared by him when we played Seymour’s last +year in the final.  I certainly came away with +a sort of impression that he could tackle.  I thought +he marked me jolly well.”</p> + +<p>“There you are, then,” +said Clowes.  “A year ago Barry could tackle +Paget.  There’s no reason for supposing that +he’s fallen off since then.  We’ve +seen that Rand-Brown <i>can’t</i> tackle Paget.  +Ergo, Barry is better worth playing for the team than +Rand-Brown.  Q.E.D.”</p> + +<p>“All right, then,” replied +Trevor.  “There can’t be any harm in +trying him.  We’ll have another scratch +game on Thursday.  Will you be here then, Paget?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes.  I’m stopping till Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“Good man.  Then we shall +be able to see how he does against you.  I wish +you hadn’t left, though, by Jove.  We should +have had Ripton on toast, the same as last term.”</p> + +<p>Wrykyn played five schools, but six +school matches.  The school that they played twice +in the season was Ripton.  To win one Ripton match +meant that, however many losses it might have sustained +in the other matches, the school had had, at any rate, +a passable season.  To win two Ripton matches +in the same year was almost unheard of.  This year +there had seemed every likelihood of it.  The +match before Christmas on the Ripton ground had resulted +in a win for Wrykyn by two goals and a try to a try.  +But the calculations of the school had been upset by +the sudden departure of Paget at the end of term, +and also of Bryce, who had hitherto been regarded +as his understudy.  And in the first Ripton match +the two goals had both been scored by Paget, and both +had been brilliant bits of individual play, which +a lesser man could not have carried through.</p> + +<p>The conclusion, therefore, at which +the school reluctantly arrived, was that their chances +of winning the second match could not be judged by +their previous success.  They would have to approach +the Easter term fixture from another—­a +non-Paget—­standpoint.  In these circumstances +it became a serious problem:  who was to get the +fifteenth place?  Whoever played in Paget’s +stead against Ripton would be certain, if the match +were won, to receive his colours.  Who, then, would +fill the vacancy?</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown, of course,” said the crowd.</p> + +<p>But the experts, as we have shown, were of a different +opinion.</p> + +<h2>II</h2> + +<h2>THE GOLD BAT</h2> + +<p>Trevor did not take long to resume +a garb of civilisation.  He never wasted much +time over anything.  He was gifted with a boundless +energy, which might possibly have made him unpopular +had he not justified it by results.  The football +of the school had never been in such a flourishing +condition as it had attained to on his succeeding to +the captaincy.  It was not only that the first +fifteen was good.  The excellence of a first fifteen +does not always depend on the captain.  But the +games, even down to the very humblest junior game, +had woken up one morning—­at the beginning +of the previous term—­to find themselves, +much to their surprise, organised going concerns.  +Like the immortal Captain Pott, Trevor was “a +terror to the shirker and the lubber”.  And +the resemblance was further increased by the fact that +he was “a toughish lot”, who was “little, +but steel and india-rubber”.  At first sight +his appearance was not imposing.  Paterfamilias, +who had heard his son’s eulogies on Trevor’s +performances during the holidays, and came down to +watch the school play a match, was generally rather +disappointed on seeing five feet six where he had looked +for at least six foot one, and ten stone where he +had expected thirteen.  But then, what there was +of Trevor was, as previously remarked, steel and india-rubber, +and he certainly played football like a miniature +Stoddart.  It was characteristic of him that, though +this was the first match of the term, his condition +seemed to be as good as possible.  He had done +all his own work on the field and most of Rand-Brown’s, +and apparently had not turned a hair.  He was one +of those conscientious people who train in the holidays.</p> + +<p>When he had changed, he went down +the passage to Clowes’ study.  Clowes was +in the position he frequently took up when the weather +was good—­wedged into his window in a sitting +position, one leg in the study, the other hanging +outside over space.  The indoor leg lacked a boot, +so that it was evident that its owner had at least +had the energy to begin to change.  That he had +given the thing up after that, exhausted with the effort, +was what one naturally expected from Clowes.  +He would have made a splendid actor:  he was so +good at resting.</p> + +<p>“Hurry up and dress,” +said Trevor; “I want you to come over to the +baths.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth do you want over at the baths?”</p> + +<p>“I want to see O’Hara.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I remember.  Dexter’s +are camping out there, aren’t they?  I heard +they were.  Why is it?”</p> + +<p>“One of the Dexter kids got +measles in the last week of the holidays, so they +shunted all the beds and things across, and the chaps +went back there instead of to the house.”</p> + +<p>In the winter term the baths were +always boarded over and converted into a sort of extra +gymnasium where you could go and box or fence when +there was no room to do it in the real gymnasium.  +Socker and stump-cricket were also largely played +there, the floor being admirably suited to such games, +though the light was always rather tricky, and prevented +heavy scoring.</p> + +<p>“I should think,” said +Clowes, “from what I’ve seen of Dexter’s +beauties, that Dexter would like them to camp out at +the bottom of the baths all the year round.  It +would be a happy release for him if they were all +drowned.  And I suppose if he had to choose any +one of them for a violent death, he’d pick O’Hara.  +O’Hara must be a boon to a house-master.  +I’ve known chaps break rules when the spirit +moved them, but he’s the only one I’ve +met who breaks them all day long and well into the +night simply for amusement.  I’ve often thought +of writing to the S.P.C.A. about it.  I suppose +you could call Dexter an animal all right?”</p> + +<p>“O’Hara’s right +enough, really.  A man like Dexter would make any +fellow run amuck.  And then O’Hara’s +an Irishman to start with, which makes a difference.”</p> + +<p>There is usually one house in every +school of the black sheep sort, and, if you go to +the root of the matter, you will generally find that +the fault is with the master of that house.  A +house-master who enters into the life of his house, +coaches them in games—­if an athlete—­or, +if not an athlete, watches the games, umpiring at cricket +and refereeing at football, never finds much difficulty +in keeping order.  It may be accepted as fact +that the juniors of a house will never be orderly +of their own free will, but disturbances in the junior +day-room do not make the house undisciplined.  +The prefects are the criterion.  If you find them +joining in the general “rags”, and even +starting private ones on their own account, then you +may safely say that it is time the master of that +house retired from the business, and took to chicken-farming.  +And that was the state of things in Dexter’s.  +It was the most lawless of the houses.  Mr Dexter +belonged to a type of master almost unknown at a public +school—­the usher type.  In a private +school he might have passed.  At Wrykyn he was +out of place.  To him the whole duty of a house-master +appeared to be to wage war against his house.</p> + +<p>When Dexter’s won the final +for the cricket cup in the summer term of two years +back, the match lasted four afternoons—­four +solid afternoons of glorious, up-and-down cricket.  +Mr Dexter did not see a single ball of that match +bowled.  He was prowling in sequestered lanes and +broken-down barns out of bounds on the off-chance +that he might catch some member of his house smoking +there.  As if the whole of the house, from the +head to the smallest fag, were not on the field watching +Day’s best bats collapse before Henderson’s +bowling, and Moriarty hit up that marvellous and unexpected +fifty-three at the end of the second innings!</p> + +<p>That sort of thing definitely stamps a master.</p> + +<p>“What do you want to see O’Hara about?” +asked Clowes.</p> + +<p>“He’s got my little gold bat.  I lent +it him in the holidays.”</p> + +<p>A remark which needs a footnote.  +The bat referred to was made of gold, and was about +an inch long by an eighth broad.  It had come into +existence some ten years previously, in the following +manner.  The inter-house cricket cup at Wrykyn +had originally been a rather tarnished and unimpressive +vessel, whose only merit consisted in the fact that +it was of silver.  Ten years ago an Old Wrykinian, +suddenly reflecting that it would not be a bad idea +to do something for the school in a small way, hied +him to the nearest jeweller’s and purchased +another silver cup, vast withal and cunningly decorated +with filigree work, and standing on a massive ebony +plinth, round which were little silver lozenges just +big enough to hold the name of the winning house and +the year of grace.  This he presented with his +blessing to be competed for by the dozen houses that +made up the school of Wrykyn, and it was formally +established as the house cricket cup.  The question +now arose:  what was to be done with the other +cup?  The School House, who happened to be the +holders at the time, suggested disinterestedly that +it should become the property of the house which had +won it last.  “Not so,” replied the +Field Sports Committee, “but far otherwise.  +We will have it melted down in a fiery furnace, and +thereafter fashioned into eleven little silver bats.  +And these little silver bats shall be the guerdon +of the eleven members of the winning team, to have +and to hold for the space of one year, unless, by +winning the cup twice in succession, they gain the +right of keeping the bat for yet another year.  +How is that, umpire?” And the authorities replied, +“O men of infinite resource and sagacity, verily +is it a cold day when <i>you</i> get left behind.  +Forge ahead.”  But, when they had forged +ahead, behold! it would not run to eleven little silver +bats, but only to ten little silver bats.  Thereupon +the headmaster, a man liberal with his cash, caused +an eleventh little bat to be fashioned—­for +the captain of the winning team to have and to hold +in the manner aforesaid.  And, to single it out +from the others, it was wrought, not of silver, but +of gold.  And so it came to pass that at the time +of our story Trevor was in possession of the little +gold bat, because Donaldson’s had won the cup +in the previous summer, and he had captained them—­and, +incidentally, had scored seventy-five without a mistake.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m hanged if I +would trust O’Hara with my bat,” said Clowes, +referring to the silver ornament on his own watch-chain; +“he’s probably pawned yours in the holidays.  +Why did you lend it to him?”</p> + +<p>“His people wanted to see it.  +I know him at home, you know.  They asked me to +lunch the last day but one of the holidays, and we +got talking about the bat, because, of course, if +we hadn’t beaten Dexter’s in the final, +O’Hara would have had it himself.  So I sent +it over next day with a note asking O’Hara to +bring it back with him here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, there’s a chance, +then, seeing he’s only had it so little time, +that he hasn’t pawned it yet.  You’d +better rush off and get it back as soon as possible.  +It’s no good waiting for me.  I shan’t +be ready for weeks.”</p> + +<p>“Where’s Paget?”</p> + +<p>“Teaing with Donaldson.  At least, he said +he was going to.”</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose I shall have to go alone.  +I hate walking alone.”</p> + +<p>“If you hurry,” said Clowes, +scanning the road from his post of vantage, “you’ll +be able to go with your fascinating pal Ruthven.  +He’s just gone out.”</p> + +<p>Trevor dashed downstairs in his energetic +way, and overtook the youth referred to.</p> + +<p>Clowes brooded over them from above +like a sorrowful and rather disgusted Providence.  +Trevor’s liking for Ruthven, who was a Donaldsonite +like himself, was one of the few points on which the +two had any real disagreement.  Clowes could not +understand how any person in his senses could of his +own free will make an intimate friend of Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Trevor,” said Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Come over to the baths,” +said Trevor, “I want to see O’Hara about +something.  Or were you going somewhere else.”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t going anywhere +in particular.  I never know what to do in term-time.  +It’s deadly dull.”</p> + +<p>Trevor could never understand how +any one could find term-time dull.  For his own +part, there always seemed too much to do in the time.</p> + +<p>“You aren’t allowed to +play games?” he said, remembering something +about a doctor’s certificate in the past.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Ruthven.  “Thank +goodness,” he added.</p> + +<p>Which remark silenced Trevor.  +To a person who thanked goodness that he was not allowed +to play games he could find nothing to say.  But +he ceased to wonder how it was that Ruthven was dull.</p> + +<p>They proceeded to the baths together +in silence.  O’Hara, they were informed +by a Dexter’s fag who met them outside the door, +was not about.</p> + +<p>“When he comes back,” +said Trevor, “tell him I want him to come to +tea tomorrow directly after school, and bring my bat.  +Don’t forget.”</p> + +<p>The fag promised to make a point of it.</p> + +<h2>III</h2> + +<h2>THE MAYOR’S STATUE</h2> + +<p>One of the rules that governed the +life of Donough O’Hara, the light-hearted descendant +of the O’Haras of Castle Taterfields, Co.  +Clare, Ireland, was “Never refuse the offer of +a free tea”.  So, on receipt—­per +the Dexter’s fag referred to—­of Trevor’s +invitation, he scratched one engagement (with his +mathematical master—­not wholly unconnected +with the working-out of Examples 200 to 206 in Hall +and Knight’s Algebra), postponed another (with +his friend and ally Moriarty, of Dexter’s, who +wished to box with him in the gymnasium), and made +his way at a leisurely pace towards Donaldson’s.  +He was feeling particularly pleased with himself today, +for several reasons.  He had begun the day well +by scoring brilliantly off Mr Dexter across the matutinal +rasher and coffee.  In morning school he had been +put on to translate the one passage which he happened +to have prepared—­the first ten lines, in +fact, of the hundred which formed the morning’s +lesson.  And in the final hour of afternoon school, +which was devoted to French, he had discovered and +exploited with great success an entirely new and original +form of ragging.  This, he felt, was the strenuous +life; this was living one’s life as one’s +life should be lived.</p> + +<p>He met Trevor at the gate.  As +they were going in, a carriage and pair dashed past.  +Its cargo consisted of two people, the headmaster, +looking bored, and a small, dapper man, with a very +red face, who looked excited, and was talking volubly.  +Trevor and O’Hara raised their caps as the chariot +swept by, but the salute passed unnoticed.  The +Head appeared to be wrapped in thought.</p> + +<p>“What’s the Old Man doing +in a carriage, I wonder,” said Trevor, looking +after them.  “Who’s that with him?”</p> + +<p>“That,” said O’Hara, “is Sir +Eustace Briggs.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s Sir Eustace Briggs?”</p> + +<p>O’Hara explained, in a rich +brogue, that Sir Eustace was Mayor of Wrykyn, a keen +politician, and a hater of the Irish nation, judging +by his letters and speeches.</p> + +<p>They went into Trevor’s study.  +Clowes was occupying the window in his usual manner.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, O’Hara,” +he said, “there is an air of quiet satisfaction +about you that seems to show that you’ve been +ragging Dexter.  Have you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that was only this morning +at breakfast.  The best rag was in French,” +replied O’Hara, who then proceeded to explain +in detail the methods he had employed to embitter +the existence of the hapless Gallic exile with whom +he had come in contact.  It was that gentleman’s +custom to sit on a certain desk while conducting the +lesson.  This desk chanced to be O’Hara’s.  +On the principle that a man may do what he likes with +his own, he had entered the room privily in the dinner-hour, +and removed the screws from his desk, with the result +that for the first half-hour of the lesson the class +had been occupied in excavating M. Gandinois from +the ruins.  That gentleman’s first act on +regaining his equilibrium had been to send O’Hara +out of the room, and O’Hara, who had foreseen +this emergency, had spent a very pleasant half-hour +in the passage with some mixed chocolates and a copy +of Mr Hornung’s <i>Amateur Cracksman</i>.  +It was his notion of a cheerful and instructive French +lesson.</p> + +<p>“What were you talking about +when you came in?” asked Clowes.  “Who’s +been slanging Ireland, O’Hara?”</p> + +<p>“The man Briggs.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do about +it?  Aren’t you going to take any steps?”</p> + +<p>“Is it steps?” said O’Hara, warmly, +“and haven’t we——­”</p> + +<p>He stopped.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Ye know,” he said, seriously, +“ye mustn’t let it go any further.  +I shall get sacked if it’s found out.  An’ +so will Moriarty, too.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Trevor, looking +up from the tea-pot he was filling, “what on +earth have you been doing?”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t it be rather +a cheery idea,” suggested Clowes, “if you +began at the beginning.”</p> + +<p>“Well, ye see,” O’Hara +began, “it was this way.  The first I heard +of it was from Dexter.  He was trying to score +off me as usual, an’ he said, ‘Have ye +seen the paper this morning, O’Hara?’ I +said, no, I had not.  Then he said, ‘Ah,’ +he said, ’ye should look at it.  There’s +something there that ye’ll find interesting.’  +I said, ‘Yes, sir?’ in me respectful way.  +‘Yes,’ said he, ’the Irish members +have been making their customary disturbances in the +House.  Why is it, O’Hara,’ he said, +’that Irishmen are always thrusting themselves +forward and making disturbances for purposes of self-advertisement?’ +‘Why, indeed, sir?’ said I, not knowing +what else to say, and after that the conversation +ceased.”</p> + +<p>“Go on,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“After breakfast Moriarty came +to me with a paper, and showed me what they had been +saying about the Irish.  There was a letter from +the man Briggs on the subject.  ’A very +sensible and temperate letter from Sir Eustace Briggs’, +they called it, but bedad! if that was a temperate +letter, I should like to know what an intemperate one +is.  Well, we read it through, and Moriarty said +to me, ‘Can we let this stay as it is?’ +And I said, ‘No.  We can’t.’  +‘Well,’ said Moriarty to me, ’what +are we to do about it?  I should like to tar and +feather the man,’ he said.  ’We can’t +do that,’ I said, ‘but why not tar and +feather his statue?’ I said.  So we thought +we would.  Ye know where the statue is, I suppose?  +It’s in the recreation ground just across the +river.”</p> + +<p>“I know the place,” said +Clowes.  “Go on.  This is ripping.  +I always knew you were pretty mad, but this sounds +as if it were going to beat all previous records.”</p> + +<p>“Have ye seen the baths this +term,” continued O’Hara, “since they +shifted Dexter’s house into them?  The beds +are in two long rows along each wall.  Moriarty’s +and mine are the last two at the end farthest from +the door.”</p> + +<p>“Just under the gallery,” said Trevor.  +“I see.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it.  Well, +at half-past ten sharp every night Dexter sees that +we’re all in, locks the door, and goes off to +sleep at the Old Man’s, and we don’t see +him again till breakfast.  He turns the gas off +from outside.  At half-past seven the next morning, +Smith”—­Smith was one of the school +porters—­“unlocks the door and calls +us, and we go over to the Hall to breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, directly everybody was +asleep last night—­it wasn’t till after +one, as there was a rag on—­Moriarty and +I got up, dressed, and climbed up into the gallery.  +Ye know the gallery windows?  They open at the +top, an’ it’s rather hard to get out of +them.  But we managed it, and dropped on to the +gravel outside.”</p> + +<p>“Long drop,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I hurt myself rather.  +But it was in a good cause.  I dropped first, +and while I was on the ground, Moriarty came on top +of me.  That’s how I got hurt.  But +it wasn’t much, and we cut across the grounds, +and over the fence, and down to the river.  It +was a fine night, and not very dark, and everything +smelt ripping down by the river.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get poetical,” said Clowes.  +“Stick to the point.”</p> + +<p>“We got into the boat-house—­”</p> + +<p>“How?” asked the practical +Trevor, for the boat-house was wont to be locked at +one in the morning.  “Moriarty had a key +that fitted,” explained O’Hara, briefly.  +“We got in, and launched a boat—­a +big tub—­put in the tar and a couple of +brushes—­there’s always tar in the +boat-house—­and rowed across.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit,” interrupted +Trevor, “you said tar and feathers.  Where +did you get the feathers?”</p> + +<p>“We used leaves.  They do +just as well, and there were heaps on the bank.  +Well, when we landed, we tied up the boat, and bucked +across to the Recreation Ground.  We got over +the railings—­beastly, spiky railings—­and +went over to the statue.  Ye know where the statue +stands?  It’s right in the middle of the +place, where everybody can see it.  Moriarty got +up first, and I handed him the tar and a brush.  +Then I went up with the other brush, and we began.  +We did his face first.  It was too dark to see +really well, but I think we made a good job of it.  +When we had put about as much tar on as we thought +would do, we took out the leaves—­which +we were carrying in our pockets—­and spread +them on.  Then we did the rest of him, and after +about half an hour, when we thought we’d done +about enough, we got into our boat again, and came +back.”</p> + +<p>“And what did you do till half-past seven?”</p> + +<p>“We couldn’t get back the way we’d +come, so we slept in the boat-house.”</p> + +<p>“Well—­I’m—­hanged,” +was Trevor’s comment on the story.</p> + +<p>Clowes roared with laughter.  O’Hara was +a perpetual joy to him.</p> + +<p>As O’Hara was going, Trevor asked him for his +gold bat.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t lost it, I hope?” he +said.</p> + +<p>O’Hara felt in his pocket, but +brought his hand out at once and transferred it to +another pocket.  A look of anxiety came over his +face, and was reflected in Trevor’s.</p> + +<p>“I could have sworn it was in that pocket,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“You <i>haven’t</i> lost it?” queried +Trevor again.</p> + +<p>“He has,” said Clowes, +confidently.  “If you want to know where +that bat is, I should say you’d find it somewhere +between the baths and the statue.  At the foot +of the statue, for choice.  It seems to me—­correct +me if I am wrong—­that you have been and +gone and done it, me broth <i>av</i> a bhoy.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara gave up the search.</p> + +<p>“It’s gone,” he +said.  “Man, I’m most awfully sorry.  +I’d sooner have lost a ten-pound note.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why you should +lose either,” snapped Trevor.  “Why +the blazes can’t you be more careful.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara was too penitent for +words.  Clowes took it on himself to point out +the bright side.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing to get +sick about, really,” he said.  “If +the thing doesn’t turn up, though it probably +will, you’ll simply have to tell the Old Man +that it’s lost.  He’ll have another +made.  You won’t be asked for it till just +before Sports Day either, so you will have plenty of +time to find it.”</p> + +<p>The challenge cups, and also the bats, +had to be given to the authorities before the sports, +to be formally presented on Sports Day.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I suppose it’ll be +all right,” said Trevor, “but I hope it +won’t be found anywhere near the statue.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara said he hoped so too.</p> + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<h2>THE LEAGUE’S WARNING</h2> + +<p>The team to play in any match was +always put upon the notice-board at the foot of the +stairs in the senior block a day before the date of +the fixture.  Both first and second fifteens had +matches on the Thursday of this week.  The second +were playing a team brought down by an old Wrykinian.  +The first had a scratch game.</p> + +<p>When Barry, accompanied by M’Todd, +who shared his study at Seymour’s and rarely +left him for two minutes on end, passed by the notice-board +at the quarter to eleven interval, it was to the second +fifteen list that he turned his attention.  Now +that Bryce had left, he thought he might have a chance +of getting into the second.  His only real rival, +he considered, was Crawford, of the School House, +who was the other wing three-quarter of the third +fifteen.  The first name he saw on the list was +Crawford’s.  It seemed to be written twice +as large as any of the others, and his own was nowhere +to be seen.  The fact that he had half expected +the calamity made things no better.  He had set +his heart on playing for the second this term.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he noticed a remarkable +phenomenon.  The other wing three-quarter was +Rand-Brown.  If Rand-Brown was playing for the +second, who was playing for the first?</p> + +<p>He looked at the list.</p> + +<p>“<i>Come</i> on,” he said +hastily to M’Todd.  He wanted to get away +somewhere where his agitated condition would not be +noticed.  He felt quite faint at the shock of +seeing his name on the list of the first fifteen.  +There it was, however, as large as life.  “M.  +Barry.”  Separated from the rest by a thin +red line, but still there.  In his most optimistic +moments he had never dreamed of this.  M’Todd +was reading slowly through the list of the second.  +He did everything slowly, except eating.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” said Barry again.</p> + +<p>M’Todd had, after much deliberation, +arrived at a profound truth.  He turned to Barry, +and imparted his discovery to him in the weighty manner +of one who realises the importance of his words.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said, “your name’s +not down here.”</p> + +<p>“I know. <i>Come</i> on.”</p> + +<p>“But that means you’re not playing for +the second.”</p> + +<p>“Of course it does.  Well, if you aren’t +coming, I’m off.”</p> + +<p>“But, look here——­”</p> + +<p>Barry disappeared through the door.  +After a moment’s pause, M’Todd followed +him.  He came up with him on the senior gravel.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“Are you sick about not playing for the second?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“You are, really.  Come and have a bun.”</p> + +<p>In the philosophy of M’Todd +it was indeed a deep-rooted sorrow that could not +be cured by the internal application of a new, hot +bun.  It had never failed in his own case.</p> + +<p>“Bun!” Barry was quite +shocked at the suggestion.  “I can’t +afford to get myself out of condition with beastly +buns.”</p> + +<p>“But if you aren’t playing——­”</p> + +<p>“You ass.  I’m playing for the first.  +Now, do you see?”</p> + +<p>M’Todd gaped.  His mind +never worked very rapidly.  “What about +Rand-Brown, then?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown’s been chucked +out.  Can’t you understand?  You <i>are</i> +an idiot.  Rand-Brown’s playing for the +second, and I’m playing for the first.”</p> + +<p>“But you’re——­”</p> + +<p>He stopped.  He had been going +to point out that Barry’s tender years—­he +was only sixteen—­and smallness would make +it impossible for him to play with success for the +first fifteen.  He refrained owing to a conviction +that the remark would not be wholly judicious.  +Barry was touchy on the subject of his size, and M’Todd +had suffered before now for commenting on it in a +disparaging spirit.</p> + +<p>“I tell you what we’ll +do after school,” said Barry, “we’ll +have some running and passing.  It’ll do +you a lot of good, and I want to practise taking passes +at full speed.  You can trot along at your ordinary +pace, and I’ll sprint up from behind.”</p> + +<p>M’Todd saw no objection to that.  +Trotting along at his ordinary pace—­five +miles an hour—­would just suit him.</p> + +<p>“Then after that,” continued +Barry, with a look of enthusiasm, “I want to +practise passing back to my centre.  Paget used +to do it awfully well last term, and I know Trevor +expects his wing to.  So I’ll buck along, +and you race up to take my pass.  See?”</p> + +<p>This was not in M’Todd’s +line at all.  He proposed a slight alteration +in the scheme.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better get somebody else—?” +he began.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a slack beast,” +said Barry.  “You want exercise awfully +badly.”</p> + +<p>And, as M’Todd always did exactly +as Barry wished, he gave in, and spent from four-thirty +to five that afternoon in the prescribed manner.  +A suggestion on his part at five sharp that it wouldn’t +be a bad idea to go and have some tea was not favourably +received by the enthusiastic three-quarter, who proposed +to devote what time remained before lock-up to practising +drop-kicking.  It was a painful alternative that +faced M’Todd.  His allegiance to Barry demanded +that he should consent to the scheme.  On the +other hand, his allegiance to afternoon tea—­equally +strong—­called him back to the house, where +there was cake, and also muffins.  In the end +the question was solved by the appearance of Drummond, +of Seymour’s, garbed in football things, and +also anxious to practise drop-kicking.  So M’Todd +was dismissed to his tea with opprobrious epithets, +and Barry and Drummond settled down to a little serious +and scientific work.</p> + +<p>Making allowances for the inevitable +attack of nerves that attends a first appearance in +higher football circles than one is accustomed to, +Barry did well against the scratch team—­certainly +far better than Rand-Brown had done.  His smallness +was, of course, against him, and, on the only occasion +on which he really got away, Paget overtook him and +brought him down.  But then Paget was exceptionally +fast.  In the two most important branches of the +game, the taking of passes and tackling, Barry did +well.  As far as pluck went he had enough for two, +and when the whistle blew for no-side he had not let +Paget through once, and Trevor felt that his inclusion +in the team had been justified.  There was another +scratch game on the Saturday.  Barry played in +it, and did much better.  Paget had gone away +by an early train, and the man he had to mark now +was one of the masters, who had been good in his time, +but was getting a trifle old for football.  Barry +scored twice, and on one occasion, by passing back +to Trevor after the manner of Paget, enabled the captain +to run in.  And Trevor, like the captain in <i>Billy +Taylor</i>, “werry much approved of what he’d +done.”  Barry began to be regarded in the +school as a regular member of the fifteen.  The +first of the fixture-card matches, versus the Town, +was due on the following Saturday, and it was generally +expected that he would play.  M’Todd’s +devotion increased every day.  He even went to +the length of taking long runs with him.  And +if there was one thing in the world that M’Todd +loathed, it was a long run.</p> + +<p>On the Thursday before the match against +the Town, Clowes came chuckling to Trevor’s +study after preparation, and asked him if he had heard +the latest.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever heard of the League?” he +said.</p> + +<p>Trevor pondered.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been at the school?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see.  It’ll be five years +at the end of the summer term.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, then you wouldn’t +remember.  I’ve been here a couple of terms +longer than you, and the row about the League was in +my first term.”</p> + +<p>“What was the row?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, only some chaps formed +a sort of secret society in the place.  Kind of +Vehmgericht, you know.  If they got their knife +into any one, he usually got beans, and could never +find out where they came from.  At first, as a +matter of fact, the thing was quite a philanthropical +concern.  There used to be a good deal of bullying +in the place then—­at least, in some of +the houses—­and, as the prefects couldn’t +or wouldn’t stop it, some fellows started this +League.”</p> + +<p>“Did it work?”</p> + +<p>“Work!  By Jove, I should +think it did.  Chaps who previously couldn’t +get through the day without making some wretched kid’s +life not worth living used to go about as nervous +as cats, looking over their shoulders every other +second.  There was one man in particular, a chap +called Leigh.  He was hauled out of bed one night, +blindfolded, and ducked in a cold bath.  He was +in the School House.”</p> + +<p>“Why did the League bust up?”</p> + +<p>“Well, partly because the fellows +left, but chiefly because they didn’t stick +to the philanthropist idea.  If anybody did anything +they didn’t like, they used to go for him.  +At last they put their foot into it badly.  A +chap called Robinson—­in this house by the +way—­offended them in some way, and one +morning he was found tied up in the bath, up to his +neck in cold water.  Apparently he’d been +there about an hour.  He got pneumonia, and almost +died, and then the authorities began to get going.  +Robinson thought he had recognised the voice of one +of the chaps—­I forget his name.  The +chap was had up by the Old Man, and gave the show +away entirely.  About a dozen fellows were sacked, +clean off the reel.  Since then the thing has +been dropped.”</p> + +<p>“But what about it?  What were you going +to say when you came in?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s been revived!”</p> + +<p>“Rot!”</p> + +<p>“It’s a fact.  Do you know Mill, a +prefect, in Seymour’s?”</p> + +<p>“Only by sight.”</p> + +<p>“I met him just now.  He’s +in a raving condition.  His study’s been +wrecked.  You never saw such a sight.  Everything +upside down or smashed.  He has been showing me +the ruins.”</p> + +<p>“I believe Mill is awfully barred +in Seymour’s,” said Trevor.  “Anybody +might have ragged his study.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I thought.  +He’s just the sort of man the League used to +go for.”</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t prove that +it’s been revived, all the same,” objected +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“No, friend; but this does.  +Mill found it tied to a chair.”</p> + +<p>It was a small card.  It looked +like an ordinary visiting card.  On it, in neat +print, were the words, “<i>With the compliments +of the League</i>”.</p> + +<p>“That’s exactly the same +sort of card as they used to use,” said Clowes.  +“I’ve seen some of them.  What do you +think of that?”</p> + +<p>“I think whoever has started +the thing is a pretty average-sized idiot.  He’s +bound to get caught some time or other, and then out +he goes.  The Old Man wouldn’t think twice +about sacking a chap of that sort.”</p> + +<p>“A chap of that sort,” +said Clowes, “will take jolly good care he isn’t +caught.  But it’s rather sport, isn’t +it?”</p> + +<p>And he went off to his study.</p> + +<p>Next day there was further evidence +that the League was an actual going concern.  +When Trevor came down to breakfast, he found a letter +by his plate.  It was printed, as the card had +been.  It was signed “The President of the +League.”  And the purport of it was that +the League did not wish Barry to continue to play +for the first fifteen.</p> + +<h2>V</h2> + +<h2>MILL RECEIVES VISITORS</h2> + +<p>Trevor’s first idea was that +somebody had sent the letter for a joke,—­Clowes +for choice.</p> + +<p>He sounded him on the subject after breakfast.</p> + +<p>“Did you send me that letter?” +he inquired, when Clowes came into his study to borrow +a <i>Sportsman</i>.</p> + +<p>“What letter?  Did you send +the team for tomorrow up to the sporter?  I wonder +what sort of a lot the Town are bringing.”</p> + +<p>“About not giving Barry his footer colours?”</p> + +<p>Clowes was reading the paper.</p> + +<p>“Giving whom?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Barry.  Can’t you listen?”</p> + +<p>“Giving him what?”</p> + +<p>“Footer colours.”</p> + +<p>“What about them?”</p> + +<p>Trevor sprang at the paper, and tore +it away from him.  After which he sat on the fragments.</p> + +<p>“Did you send me a letter about not giving Barry +his footer colours?”</p> + +<p>Clowes surveyed him with the air of +a nurse to whom the family baby has just said some +more than usually good thing.</p> + +<p>“Don’t stop,” he said, “I +could listen all day.”</p> + +<p>Trevor felt in his pocket for the +note, and flung it at him.  Clowes picked it up, +and read it gravely.</p> + +<p>“What <i>are</i> footer colours?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Trevor, “it’s +a pretty rotten sort of joke, whoever sent it.  +You haven’t said yet whether you did or not.”</p> + +<p>“What earthly reason should +I have for sending it?  And I think you’re +making a mistake if you think this is meant as a joke.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t really believe this League +rot?”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t see Mill’s +study ‘after treatment’.  I did.  +Anyhow, how do you account for the card I showed you?”</p> + +<p>“But that sort of thing doesn’t happen +at school.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it <i>has</i> happened, you see.”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think did send the letter, then?”</p> + +<p>“The President of the League.”</p> + +<p>“And who the dickens is the President of the +League when he’s at home?”</p> + +<p>“If I knew that, I should tell +Mill, and earn his blessing.  Not that I want +it.”</p> + +<p>“Then, I suppose,” snorted +Trevor, “you’d suggest that on the strength +of this letter I’d better leave Barry out of +the team?”</p> + +<p>“Satirically in brackets,” commented Clowes.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good your jumping +on <i>me</i>,” he added.  “I’ve +done nothing.  All I suggest is that you’d +better keep more or less of a look-out.  If this +League’s anything like the old one, you’ll +find they’ve all sorts of ways of getting at +people they don’t love.  I shouldn’t +like to come down for a bath some morning, and find +you already in possession, tied up like Robinson.  +When they found Robinson, he was quite blue both as +to the face and speech.  He didn’t speak +very clearly, but what one could catch was well worth +hearing.  I should advise you to sleep with a +loaded revolver under your pillow.”</p> + +<p>“The first thing I shall do is find out who +wrote this letter.”</p> + +<p>“I should,” said Clowes, encouragingly.  +“Keep moving.”</p> + +<p>In Seymour’s house the Mill’s +study incident formed the only theme of conversation +that morning.  Previously the sudden elevation +to the first fifteen of Barry, who was popular in +the house, at the expense of Rand-Brown, who was unpopular, +had given Seymour’s something to talk about.  +But the ragging of the study put this topic entirely +in the shade.  The study was still on view in +almost its original condition of disorder, and all +day comparative strangers flocked to see Mill in his +den, in order to inspect things.  Mill was a youth +with few friends, and it is probable that more of +his fellow-Seymourites crossed the threshold of his +study on the day after the occurrence than had visited +him in the entire course of his school career.  +Brown would come in to borrow a knife, would sweep +the room with one comprehensive glance, and depart, +to be followed at brief intervals by Smith, Robinson, +and Jones, who came respectively to learn the right +time, to borrow a book, and to ask him if he had seen +a pencil anywhere.  Towards the end of the day, +Mill would seem to have wearied somewhat of the proceedings, +as was proved when Master Thomas Renford, aged fourteen +(who fagged for Milton, the head of the house), burst +in on the thin pretence that he had mistaken the study +for that of his rightful master, and gave vent to a +prolonged whistle of surprise and satisfaction at +the sight of the ruins.  On that occasion, the +incensed owner of the dismantled study, taking a mean +advantage of the fact that he was a prefect, and so +entitled to wield the rod, produced a handy swagger-stick +from an adjacent corner, and, inviting Master Renford +to bend over, gave him six of the best to remember +him by.  Which ceremony being concluded, he kicked +him out into the passage, and Renford went down to +the junior day-room to tell his friend Harvey about +it.</p> + +<p>“Gave me six, the cad,” +said he, “just because I had a look at his beastly +study.  Why shouldn’t I look at his study +if I like?  I’ve a jolly good mind to go +up and have another squint.”</p> + +<p>Harvey warmly approved the scheme.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think I will,” +said Renford with a yawn.  “It’s such +a fag going upstairs.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, isn’t it?” said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“And he’s such a beast, too.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, isn’t he?” said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“I’m jolly glad his study +<i>has</i> been ragged,” continued the vindictive +Renford.</p> + +<p>“It’s jolly exciting, +isn’t it?” added Harvey.  “And +I thought this term was going to be slow.  The +Easter term generally is.”</p> + +<p>This remark seemed to suggest a train +of thought to Renford, who made the following cryptic +observation.  “Have you seen them today?”</p> + +<p>To the ordinary person the words would +have conveyed little meaning.  To Harvey they +appeared to teem with import.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “I saw them early +this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Were they all right?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Splendid.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Renford.</p> + +<p>Barry’s friend Drummond was +one of those who had visited the scene of the disaster +early, before Mill’s energetic hand had repaired +the damage done, and his narrative was consequently +in some demand.</p> + +<p>“The place was in a frightful +muck,” he said.  “Everything smashed +except the table; and ink all over the place.  +Whoever did it must have been fairly sick with him, +or he’d never have taken the trouble to do it +so thoroughly.  Made a fair old hash of things, +didn’t he, Bertie?”</p> + +<p>“Bertie” was the form +in which the school elected to serve up the name of +De Bertini.  Raoul de Bertini was a French boy +who had come to Wrykyn in the previous term.  +Drummond’s father had met his father in Paris, +and Drummond was supposed to be looking after Bertie.  +They shared a study together.  Bertie could not +speak much English, and what he did speak was, like +Mill’s furniture, badly broken.</p> + +<p>“Pardon?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Doesn’t matter,” +said Drummond, “it wasn’t anything important.  +I was only appealing to you for corroborative detail +to give artistic verisimilitude to a bald and unconvincing +narrative.”</p> + +<p>Bertie grinned politely.  He always +grinned when he was not quite equal to the intellectual +pressure of the conversation.  As a consequence +of which, he was generally, like Mrs Fezziwig, one +vast, substantial smile.</p> + +<p>“I never liked Mill much,” +said Barry, “but I think it’s rather bad +luck on the man.”</p> + +<p>“Once,” announced M’Todd, +solemnly, “he kicked me—­for making +a row in the passage.”  It was plain that +the recollection rankled.</p> + +<p>Barry would probably have pointed +out what an excellent and praiseworthy act on Mill’s +part that had been, when Rand-Brown came in.</p> + +<p>“Prefects’ meeting?” +he inquired.  “Or haven’t they made +you a prefect yet, M’Todd?”</p> + +<p>M’Todd said they had not.</p> + +<p>Nobody present liked Rand-Brown, and +they looked at him rather inquiringly, as if to ask +what he had come for.  A friend may drop in for +a chat.  An acquaintance must justify his intrusion.</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown ignored the silent inquiry.  +He seated himself on the table, and dragged up a chair +to rest his legs on.</p> + +<p>“Talking about Mill, of course?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Drummond.  “Have +you seen his study since it happened?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown smiled, as if the recollection +amused him.  He was one of those people who do +not look their best when they smile.</p> + +<p>“Playing for the first tomorrow, Barry?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Barry, shortly.  +“I haven’t seen the list.”</p> + +<p>He objected to the introduction of +the topic.  It is never pleasant to have to discuss +games with the very man one has ousted from the team.</p> + +<p>Drummond, too, seemed to feel that +the situation was an embarrassing one, for a few minutes +later he got up to go over to the gymnasium.</p> + +<p>“Any of you chaps coming?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Barry and M’Todd thought they would, and the +three left the room.</p> + +<p>“Nothing like showing a man +you don’t want him, eh, Bertie?  What do +you think?” said Rand-Brown.</p> + +<p>Bertie grinned politely.</p> + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<h2>TREVOR REMAINS FIRM</h2> + +<p>The most immediate effect of telling +anybody not to do a thing is to make him do it, in +order to assert his independence.  Trevor’s +first act on receipt of the letter was to include +Barry in the team against the Town.  It was what +he would have done in any case, but, under the circumstances, +he felt a peculiar pleasure in doing it.  The incident +also had the effect of recalling to his mind the fact +that he had tried Barry in the first instance on his +own responsibility, without consulting the committee.  +The committee of the first fifteen consisted of the +two old colours who came immediately after the captain +on the list.  The powers of a committee varied +according to the determination and truculence of the +members of it.  On any definite and important +step, affecting the welfare of the fifteen, the captain +theoretically could not move without their approval.  +But if the captain happened to be strong-minded and +the committee weak, they were apt to be slightly out +of it, and the captain would develop a habit of consulting +them a day or so after he had done a thing.  He +would give a man his colours, and inform the committee +of it on the following afternoon, when the thing was +done and could not be repealed.</p> + +<p>Trevor was accustomed to ask the advice +of his lieutenants fairly frequently.  He never +gave colours, for instance, off his own bat.  It +seemed to him that it might be as well to learn what +views Milton and Allardyce had on the subject of Barry, +and, after the Town team had gone back across the +river, defeated by a goal and a try to nil, he changed +and went over to Seymour’s to interview Milton.</p> + +<p>Milton was in an arm-chair, watching +Renford brew tea.  His was one of the few studies +in the school in which there was an arm-chair.  +With the majority of his contemporaries, it would +only run to the portable kind that fold up.</p> + +<p>“Come and have some tea, Trevor,” said +Milton.</p> + +<p>“Thanks.  If there’s any going.”</p> + +<p>“Heaps.  Is there anything to eat, Renford?”</p> + +<p>The fag, appealed to on this important +point, pondered darkly for a moment.</p> + +<p>“There <i>was</i> some cake,” he said.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” +interrupted Milton, cheerfully.  “Scratch +the cake.  I ate it before the match.  Isn’t +there anything else?”</p> + +<p>Milton had a healthy appetite.</p> + +<p>“Then there used to be some biscuits.”</p> + +<p>“Biscuits are off.  I finished +’em yesterday.  Look here, young Renford, +what you’d better do is cut across to the shop +and get some more cake and some more biscuits, and +tell ’em to put it down to me.  And don’t +be long.”</p> + +<p>“A miles better idea would be +to send him over to Donaldson’s to fetch something +from my study,” suggested Trevor.  “It +isn’t nearly so far, and I’ve got heaps +of stuff.”</p> + +<p>“Ripping.  Cut over to Donaldson’s, +young Renford.  As a matter of fact,” he +added, confidentially, when the emissary had vanished, +“I’m not half sure that the other dodge +would have worked.  They seem to think at the +shop that I’ve had about enough things on tick +lately.  I haven’t settled up for last term +yet.  I’ve spent all I’ve got on this +study.  What do you think of those photographs?”</p> + +<p>Trevor got up and inspected them.  +They filled the mantelpiece and most of the wall above +it.  They were exclusively theatrical photographs, +and of a variety to suit all tastes.  For the +earnest student of the drama there was Sir Henry Irving +in <i>The Bells</i>, and Mr Martin Harvey in <i>The +Only Way.</i> For the admirers of the merely beautiful +there were Messrs Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell.</p> + +<p>“Not bad,” said Trevor.  “Beastly +waste of money.”</p> + +<p>“Waste of money!” Milton +was surprised and pained at the criticism.  “Why, +you must spend your money on <i>something."</i></p> + +<p>“Rot, I call it,” said +Trevor.  “If you want to collect something, +why don’t you collect something worth having?”</p> + +<p>Just then Renford came back with the supplies.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Milton, +“put ’em down.  Does the billy boil, +young Renford?”</p> + +<p>Renford asked for explanatory notes.</p> + +<p>“You’re a bit of an ass +at times, aren’t you?” said Milton, kindly.  +“What I meant was, is the tea ready?  If +it is, you can scoot.  If it isn’t, buck +up with it.”</p> + +<p>A sound of bubbling and a rush of +steam from the spout of the kettle proclaimed that +the billy did boil.  Renford extinguished the Etna, +and left the room, while Milton, murmuring vague formulae +about “one spoonful for each person and one +for the pot”, got out of his chair with a groan—­for +the Town match had been an energetic one—­and +began to prepare tea.</p> + +<p>“What I really came round about—­” +began Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Half a second.  I can’t find the +milk.”</p> + +<p>He went to the door, and shouted for +Renford.  On that overworked youth’s appearance, +the following dialogue took place.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the milk?”</p> + +<p>“What milk?”</p> + +<p>“My milk.”</p> + +<p>“There isn’t any.”  +This in a tone not untinged with triumph, as if the +speaker realised that here was a distinct score to +him.</p> + +<p>“No milk?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“You never had any.”</p> + +<p>“Well, just cut across—­no, +half a second.  What are you doing downstairs?”</p> + +<p>“Having tea.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ve got milk.”</p> + +<p>“Only a little.”  This apprehensively.</p> + +<p>“Bring it up.  You can have what we leave.”</p> + +<p>Disgusted retirement of Master Renford.</p> + +<p>“What I really came about,” said Trevor +again, “was business.”</p> + +<p>“Colours?” inquired Milton, +rummaging in the tin for biscuits with sugar on them.  +“Good brand of biscuit you keep, Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I think we might give Alexander and +Parker their third.”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Any others?”</p> + +<p>“Barry his second, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“Rather.  He played a good +game today.  He’s an improvement on Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Glad you think so.  I was +wondering whether it was the right thing to do, chucking +Rand-Brown out after one trial like that.  But +still, if you think Barry’s better—­”</p> + +<p>“Streets better.  I’ve +had heaps of chances of watching them and comparing +them, when they’ve been playing for the house.  +It isn’t only that Rand-Brown can’t tackle, +and Barry can.  Barry takes his passes much better, +and doesn’t lose his head when he’s pressed.”</p> + +<p>“Just what I thought,” +said Trevor.  “Then you’d go on playing +him for the first?”</p> + +<p>“Rather.  He’ll get +better every game, you’ll see, as he gets more +used to playing in the first three-quarter line.  +And he’s as keen as anything on getting into +the team.  Practises taking passes and that sort +of thing every day.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’ll get his colours if we lick +Ripton.”</p> + +<p>“We ought to lick them.  +They’ve lost one of their forwards, Clifford, +a red-haired chap, who was good out of touch.  +I don’t know if you remember him.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I ought to go and +see Allardyce about these colours, now.  Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>There was running and passing on the +Monday for every one in the three teams.  Trevor +and Clowes met Mr Seymour as they were returning.  +Mr Seymour was the football master at Wrykyn.</p> + +<p>“I see you’ve given Barry his second, +Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I think you’re wise to +play him for the first.  He knows the game, which +is the great thing, and he will improve with practice,” +said Mr Seymour, thus corroborating Milton’s +words of the previous Saturday.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad Seymour thinks +Barry good,” said Trevor, as they walked on.  +“I shall go on playing him now.”</p> + +<p>“Found out who wrote that letter yet?”</p> + +<p>Trevor laughed.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Probably Rand-Brown,” +suggested Clowes.  “He’s the man who +would gain most by Barry’s not playing.  +I hear he had a row with Mill just before his study +was ragged.”</p> + +<p>“Everybody in Seymour’s +has had rows with Mill some time or other,” +said Trevor.</p> + +<p>Clowes stopped at the door of the +junior day-room to find his fag.  Trevor went +on upstairs.  In the passage he met Ruthven.</p> + +<p>Ruthven seemed excited.</p> + +<p>“I say.  Trevor,” he exclaimed, “have +you seen your study?”</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter with it?”</p> + +<p>“You’d better go and look.”</p> + +<h2>VII</h2> + +<h2>“WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE LEAGUE”</h2> + +<p>Trevor went and looked.</p> + +<p>It was rather an interesting sight.  +An earthquake or a cyclone might have made it a little +more picturesque, but not much more.  The general +effect was not unlike that of an American saloon, after +a visit from Mrs Carrie Nation (with hatchet).  +As in the case of Mill’s study, the only thing +that did not seem to have suffered any great damage +was the table.  Everything else looked rather +off colour.  The mantelpiece had been swept as +bare as a bone, and its contents littered the floor.  +Trevor dived among the debris and retrieved the latest +addition to his art gallery, the photograph of this +year’s first fifteen.  It was a wreck.  +The glass was broken and the photograph itself slashed +with a knife till most of the faces were unrecognisable.  +He picked up another treasure, last year’s first +eleven.  Smashed glass again.  Faces cut about +with knife as before.  His collection of snapshots +was torn into a thousand fragments, though, as Mr +Jerome said of the <i>papier</i>-<i>mâche</i> trout, there +may only have been nine hundred.  He did not count +them.  His bookshelf was empty.  The books +had gone to swell the contents of the floor.  +There was a Shakespeare with its cover off.  Pages +twenty-two to thirty-one of <i>Vice Versa</i> had parted +from the parent establishment, and were lying by themselves +near the door. <i>The Rogues’ March</i> lay +just beyond them, and the look of the cover suggested +that somebody had either been biting it or jumping +on it with heavy boots.</p> + +<p>There was other damage.  Over +the mantelpiece in happier days had hung a dozen sea +gulls’ eggs, threaded on a string.  The string +was still there, as good as new, but of the eggs nothing +was to be seen, save a fine parti-coloured powder—­on +the floor, like everything else in the study.  +And a good deal of ink had been upset in one place +and another.</p> + +<p>Trevor had been staring at the ruins +for some time, when he looked up to see Clowes standing +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Clowes, “been tidying +up?”</p> + +<p>Trevor made a few hasty comments on +the situation.  Clowes listened approvingly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think,” +he went on, eyeing the study with a critical air, +“that you’ve got too many things on the +floor, and too few anywhere else?  And I should +move some of those books on to the shelf, if I were +you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor breathed very hard.</p> + +<p>“I should like to find the chap who did this,” +he said softly.</p> + +<p>Clowes advanced into the room and +proceeded to pick up various misplaced articles of +furniture in a helpful way.</p> + +<p>“I thought so,” he said presently, “come +and look here.”</p> + +<p>Tied to a chair, exactly as it had +been in the case of Mill, was a neat white card, and +on it were the words, <i>"With the Compliments of the +League".</i></p> + +<p>“What are you going to do about +this?” asked Clowes.  “Come into my +room and talk it over.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tidy this place +up first,” said Trevor.  He felt that the +work would be a relief.  “I don’t +want people to see this.  It mustn’t get +about.  I’m not going to have my study turned +into a sort of side-show, like Mill’s.  +You go and change.  I shan’t be long.”</p> + +<p>“I will never desert Mr Micawber,” +said Clowes.  “Friend, my place is by your +side.  Shut the door and let’s get to work.”</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the room had resumed +a more or less—­though principally less—­normal +appearance.  The books and chairs were back in +their places.  The ink was sopped up.  The +broken photographs were stacked in a neat pile in +one corner, with a rug over them.  The mantelpiece +was still empty, but, as Clowes pointed out, it now +merely looked as if Trevor had been pawning some of +his household gods.  There was no sign that a +devastating secret society had raged through the study.</p> + +<p>Then they adjourned to Clowes’ +study, where Trevor sank into Clowes’ second-best +chair—­Clowes, by an adroit movement, having +appropriated the best one—­with a sigh of +enjoyment.  Running and passing, followed by the +toil of furniture-shifting, had made him feel quite +tired.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t look so bad +now,” he said, thinking of the room they had +left.  “By the way, what did you do with +that card?”</p> + +<p>“Here it is.  Want it?”</p> + +<p>“You can keep it.  I don’t want it.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks.  If this sort of +things goes on, I shall get quite a nice collection +of these cards.  Start an album some day.”</p> + +<p>“You know,” said Trevor, “this is +getting serious.”</p> + +<p>“It always does get serious +when anything bad happens to one’s self.  +It always strikes one as rather funny when things +happen to other people.  When Mill’s study +was wrecked, I bet you regarded it as an amusing and +original ‘turn’.  What do you think +of the present effort?”</p> + +<p>“Who on earth can have done it?”</p> + +<p>“The Pres—­”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dry up.  Of course it was.  But +who the blazes is he?”</p> + +<p>“Nay, children, you have me +there,” quoted Clowes.  “I’ll +tell you one thing, though.  You remember what +I said about it’s probably being Rand-Brown.  +He can’t have done this, that’s certain, +because he was out in the fields the whole time.  +Though I don’t see who else could have anything +to gain by Barry not getting his colours.”</p> + +<p>“There’s no reason to +suspect him at all, as far as I can see.  I don’t +know much about him, bar the fact that he can’t +play footer for nuts, but I’ve never heard anything +against him.  Have you?”</p> + +<p>“I scarcely know him myself.  He isn’t +liked in Seymour’s, I believe.”</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow, this can’t be his work.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I said.”</p> + +<p>“For all we know, the League +may have got their knife into Barry for some reason.  +You said they used to get their knife into fellows +in that way.  Anyhow, I mean to find out who ragged +my room.”</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said +Clowes.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>O’Hara came round to Donaldson’s +before morning school next day to tell Trevor that +he had not yet succeeded in finding the lost bat.  +He found Trevor and Clowes in the former’s den, +trying to put a few finishing touches to the same.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, an’ what’s +up with your study?” he inquired.  He was +quick at noticing things.  Trevor looked annoyed.  +Clowes asked the visitor if he did not think the study +presented a neat and gentlemanly appearance.</p> + +<p>“Where are all your photographs, +Trevor?” persisted the descendant of Irish kings.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good trying to +conceal anything from the bhoy,” said Clowes.  +“Sit down, O’Hara—­mind that +chair; it’s rather wobbly—­and I will +tell ye the story.”</p> + +<p>“Can you keep a thing dark?” inquired +Trevor.</p> + +<p>O’Hara protested that tombs were not in it.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, do you remember +what happened to Mill’s study?  That’s +what’s been going on here.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara nearly fell off his chair +with surprise.  That some philanthropist should +rag Mill’s study was only to be expected.  +Mill was one of the worst.  A worm without a saving +grace.  But Trevor!  Captain of football!  +In the first eleven!  The thing was unthinkable.</p> + +<p>“But who—?” he began.</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I want +to know,” said Trevor, shortly.  He did not +enjoy discussing the affair.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been at Wrykyn, O’Hara?” +said Clowes.</p> + +<p>O’Hara made a rapid calculation.  +His fingers twiddled in the air as he worked out the +problem.</p> + +<p>“Six years,” he said at +last, leaning back exhausted with brain work.</p> + +<p>“Then you must remember the League?”</p> + +<p>“Remember the League?  Rather.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s been revived.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara whistled.</p> + +<p>“This’ll liven the old +place up,” he said.  “I’ve often +thought of reviving it meself.  An’ so has +Moriarty.  If it’s anything like the Old +League, there’s going to be a sort of Donnybrook +before it’s done with.  I wonder who’s +running it this time.”</p> + +<p>“We should like to know that.  If you find +out, you might tell us.”</p> + +<p>“I will.”</p> + +<p>“And don’t tell anybody +else,” said Trevor.  “This business +has got to be kept quiet.  Keep it dark about +my study having been ragged.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t tell a soul.”</p> + +<p>“Not even Moriarty.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hang it, man,” put +in Clowes, “you don’t want to kill the +poor bhoy, surely?  You must let him tell one +person.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Trevor, +“you can tell Moriarty.  But nobody else, +mind.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara promised that Moriarty should receive +the news exclusively.</p> + +<p>“But why did the League go for ye?”</p> + +<p>“They happen to be down on me.  It doesn’t +matter why.  They are.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said O’Hara.  +“Oh,” he added, “about that bat.  +The search is being ’vigorously prosecuted’—­that’s +a newspaper quotation—­”</p> + +<p>“Times?” inquired Clowes.</p> + +<p>“<i>Wrykyn Patriot</i>,” +said O’Hara, pulling out a bundle of letters.  +He inspected each envelope in turn, and from the fifth +extracted a newspaper cutting.</p> + +<p>“Read that,” he said.</p> + +<p>It was from the local paper, and ran as follows:—­</p> + +<p>“<i>Hooligan Outrage</i>—­A +painful sensation has been caused in the town by a +deplorable ebullition of local Hooliganism, which has +resulted in the wanton disfigurement of the splendid +statue of Sir Eustace Briggs which stands in the New +Recreation Grounds.  Our readers will recollect +that the statue was erected to commemorate the return +of Sir Eustace as member for the borough of Wrykyn, +by an overwhelming majority, at the last election.  +Last Tuesday some youths of the town, passing through +the Recreation Grounds early in the morning, noticed +that the face and body of the statue were completely +covered with leaves and some black substance, which +on examination proved to be tar.  They speedily +lodged information at the police station.  Everything +seems to point to party spite as the motive for the +outrage.  In view of the forth-coming election, +such an act is highly significant, and will serve +sufficiently to indicate the tactics employed by our +opponents.  The search for the perpetrator (or +perpetrators) of the dastardly act is being vigorously +prosecuted, and we learn with satisfaction that the +police have already several clues.”</p> + +<p>“Clues!” said Clowes, +handing back the paper, “that means <i>the bat</i>.  +That gas about ‘our opponents’ is all a +blind to put you off your guard.  You wait.  +There’ll be more painful sensations before you’ve +finished with this business.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t have found +the bat, or why did they not say so?” observed +O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Guile,” said Clowes, +“pure guile.  If I were you, I should escape +while I could.  Try Callao.  There’s +no extradition there.</p> + +<p>    ’On no petition<br /> +     Is extradition<br /> +     Allowed in Callao.’</p> + +<p>Either of you chaps coming over to school?”</p> + +<h2>VIII</h2> + +<h2>O’HARA ON THE TRACK</h2> + +<p>Tuesday mornings at Wrykyn were devoted—­up +to the quarter to eleven interval—­to the +study of mathematics.  That is to say, instead +of going to their form-rooms, the various forms visited +the out-of-the-way nooks and dens at the top of the +buildings where the mathematical masters were wont +to lurk, and spent a pleasant two hours there playing +round games or reading fiction under the desk.  +Mathematics being one of the few branches of school +learning which are of any use in after life, nobody +ever dreamed of doing any work in that direction, least +of all O’Hara.  It was a theory of O’Hara’s +that he came to school to enjoy himself.  To have +done any work during a mathematics lesson would have +struck him as a positive waste of time, especially +as he was in Mr Banks’ class.  Mr Banks +was a master who simply cried out to be ragged.  +Everything he did and said seemed to invite the members +of his class to amuse themselves, and they amused +themselves accordingly.  One of the advantages +of being under him was that it was possible to predict +to a nicety the moment when one would be sent out +of the room.  This was found very convenient.</p> + +<p>O’Hara’s ally, Moriarty, +was accustomed to take his mathematics with Mr Morgan, +whose room was directly opposite Mr Banks’.  +With Mr Morgan it was not quite so easy to date one’s +expulsion from the room under ordinary circumstances, +and in the normal wear and tear of the morning’s +work, but there was one particular action which could +always be relied upon to produce the desired result.</p> + +<p>In one corner of the room stood a +gigantic globe.  The problem—­how did +it get into the room?—­was one that had exercised +the minds of many generations of Wrykinians.  +It was much too big to have come through the door.  +Some thought that the block had been built round it, +others that it had been placed in the room in infancy, +and had since grown.  To refer the question to +Mr Morgan would, in six cases out of ten, mean instant +departure from the room.  But to make the event +certain, it was necessary to grasp the globe firmly +and spin it round on its axis.  That always proved +successful.  Mr Morgan would dash down from his +dais, address the offender in spirited terms, and +give him his marching orders at once and without further +trouble.</p> + +<p>Moriarty had arranged with O’Hara +to set the globe rolling at ten sharp on this particular +morning.  O’Hara would then so arrange matters +with Mr Banks that they could meet in the passage +at that hour, when O’Hara wished to impart to +his friend his information concerning the League.</p> + +<p>O’Hara promised to be at the +trysting-place at the hour mentioned.</p> + +<p>He did not think there would be any +difficulty about it.  The news that the League +had been revived meant that there would be trouble +in the very near future, and the prospect of trouble +was meat and drink to the Irishman in O’Hara.  +Consequently he felt in particularly good form for +mathematics (as he interpreted the word).  He thought +that he would have no difficulty whatever in keeping +Mr Banks bright and amused.  The first step had +to be to arouse in him an interest in life, to bring +him into a frame of mind which would induce him to +look severely rather than leniently on the next offender.  +This was effected as follows:—­</p> + +<p>It was Mr Banks’ practice to +set his class sums to work out, and, after some three-quarters +of an hour had elapsed, to pass round the form what +he called “solutions”.  These were +large sheets of paper, on which he had worked out +each sum in his neat handwriting to a happy ending.  +When the head of the form, to whom they were passed +first, had finished with them, he would make a slight +tear in one corner, and, having done so, hand them +on to his neighbour.  The neighbour, before giving +them to <i>his</i> neighbour, would also tear them +slightly.  In time they would return to their +patentee and proprietor, and it was then that things +became exciting.</p> + +<p>“Who tore these solutions like +this?” asked Mr Banks, in the repressed voice +of one who is determined that he <i>will</i> be calm.</p> + +<p>No answer.  The tattered solutions waved in the +air.</p> + +<p>He turned to Harringay, the head of the form.</p> + +<p>“Harringay, did you tear these solutions like +this?”</p> + +<p>Indignant negative from Harringay.  +What he had done had been to make the small tear in +the top left-hand corner.  If Mr Banks had asked, +“Did you make this small tear in the top left-hand +corner of these solutions?” Harringay would +have scorned to deny the impeachment.  But to +claim the credit for the whole work would, he felt, +be an act of flat dishonesty, and an injustice to +his gifted <i>collaborateurs.</i></p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Harringay.</p> + +<p>“Browne!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Did you tear these solutions in this manner?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>And so on through the form.</p> + +<p>Then Harringay rose after the manner +of the debater who is conscious that he is going to +say the popular thing.</p> + +<p>“Sir—­” he began.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Harringay.”</p> + +<p>Harringay gracefully waved aside the absurd command.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” he said, “I +think I am expressing the general consensus of opinion +among my—­ahem—­fellow-students, +when I say that this class sincerely regrets the unfortunate +state the solutions have managed to get themselves +into.”</p> + +<p>“Hear, hear!” from a back bench.</p> + +<p>“It is with—­”</p> + +<p>“Sit <i>down</i>, Harringay.”</p> + +<p>“It is with heartfelt—­”</p> + +<p>“Harringay, if you do not sit down—­”</p> + +<p>“As your ludship pleases.”  This <i>sotto +voce</i>.</p> + +<p>And Harringay resumed his seat amidst applause.  +O’Hara got up.</p> + +<p>“As me frind who has just sat down was about +to observe—­”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, O’Hara.  The whole form +will remain after the class.”</p> + +<p>“—­the unfortunate +state the solutions have managed to get thimsilves +into is sincerely regretted by this class.  Sir, +I think I am ixprissing the general consensus of opinion +among my fellow-students whin I say that it is with +heart-felt sorrow—­”</p> + +<p>“O’Hara!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Leave the room instantly.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>From the tower across the gravel came +the melodious sound of chimes.  The college clock +was beginning to strike ten.  He had scarcely got +into the passage, and closed the door after him, when +a roar as of a bereaved spirit rang through the room +opposite, followed by a string of words, the only +intelligible one being the noun-substantive “globe”, +and the next moment the door opened and Moriarty came +out.  The last stroke of ten was just booming +from the clock.</p> + +<p>There was a large cupboard in the +passage, the top of which made a very comfortable +seat.  They climbed on to this, and began to talk +business.</p> + +<p>“An’ what was it ye wanted to tell me?” +inquired Moriarty.</p> + +<p>O’Hara related what he had learned from Trevor +that morning.</p> + +<p>“An’ do ye know,” +said Moriarty, when he had finished, “I half +suspected, when I heard that Mill’s study had +been ragged, that it might be the League that had +done it.  If ye remember, it was what they enjoyed +doing, breaking up a man’s happy home.  They +did it frequently.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t understand them doing it +to Trevor at all.”</p> + +<p>“They’ll do it to anybody they choose +till they’re caught at it.”</p> + +<p>“If they are caught, there’ll be a row.”</p> + +<p>“We must catch ’em,” +said Moriarty.  Like O’Hara, he revelled +in the prospect of a disturbance.  O’Hara +and he were going up to Aldershot at the end of the +term, to try and bring back the light and middle-weight +medals respectively.  Moriarty had won the light-weight +in the previous year, but, by reason of putting on +a stone since the competition, was now no longer eligible +for that class.  O’Hara had not been up before, +but the Wrykyn instructor, a good judge of pugilistic +form, was of opinion that he ought to stand an excellent +chance.  As the prize-fighter in <i>Rodney Stone</i> +says, “When you get a good Irishman, you can’t +better ’em, but they’re dreadful ’<i>asty</i>.”  +O’Hara was attending the gymnasium every night, +in order to learn to curb his “dreadful ’astiness”, +and acquire skill in its place.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if Trevor would be any good in a row,” +said Moriarty.</p> + +<p>“He can’t box,” +said O’Hara, “but he’d go on till +he was killed entirely.  I say, I’m getting +rather tired of sitting here, aren’t you?  +Let’s go to the other end of the passage and +have some cricket.”</p> + +<p>So, having unearthed a piece of wood +from the debris at the top of the cupboard, and rolled +a handkerchief into a ball, they adjourned.</p> + +<p>Recalling the stirring events of six +years back, when the League had first been started, +O’Hara remembered that the members of that enterprising +society had been wont to hold meetings in a secluded +spot, where it was unlikely that they would be disturbed.  +It seemed to him that the first thing he ought to +do, if he wanted to make their nearer acquaintance +now, was to find their present rendezvous.  They +must have one.  They would never run the risk +involved in holding mass-meetings in one another’s +studies.  On the last occasion, it had been an +old quarry away out on the downs.  This had been +proved by the not-to-be-shaken testimony of three +school-house fags, who had wandered out one half-holiday +with the unconcealed intention of finding the League’s +place of meeting.  Unfortunately for them, they +<i>had</i> found it.  They were going down the +path that led to the quarry before-mentioned, when +they were unexpectedly seized, blindfolded, and carried +off.  An impromptu court-martial was held—­in +whispers—­and the three explorers forthwith +received the most spirited “touching-up” +they had ever experienced.  Afterwards they were +released, and returned to their house with their zeal +for detection quite quenched.  The episode had +created a good deal of excitement in the school at +the time.</p> + +<p>On three successive afternoons, O’Hara +and Moriarty scoured the downs, and on each occasion +they drew blank.  On the fourth day, just before +lock-up, O’Hara, who had been to tea with Gregson, +of Day’s, was going over to the gymnasium to +keep a pugilistic appointment with Moriarty, when +somebody ran swiftly past him in the direction of the +boarding-houses.  It was almost dark, for the days +were still short, and he did not recognise the runner.  +But it puzzled him a little to think where he had +sprung from.  O’Hara was walking quite close +to the wall of the College buildings, and the runner +had passed between it and him.  And he had not +heard his footsteps.  Then he understood, and his +pulse quickened as he felt that he was on the track.  +Beneath the block was a large sort of cellar-basement.  +It was used as a store-room for chairs, and was never +opened except when prize-day or some similar event +occurred, when the chairs were needed.  It was +supposed to be locked at other times, but never was.  +The door was just by the spot where he was standing.  +As he stood there, half-a-dozen other vague forms dashed +past him in a knot.  One of them almost brushed +against him.  For a moment he thought of stopping +him, but decided not to.  He could wait.</p> + +<p>On the following afternoon he slipped +down into the basement soon after school.  It +was as black as pitch in the cellar.  He took up +a position near the door.</p> + +<p>It seemed hours before anything happened.  +He was, indeed, almost giving up the thing as a bad +job, when a ray of light cut through the blackness +in front of him, and somebody slipped through the door.  +The next moment, a second form appeared dimly, and +then the light was shut off again.</p> + +<p>O’Hara could hear them groping +their way past him.  He waited no longer.  +It is difficult to tell where sound comes from in the +dark.  He plunged forward at a venture.  His +hand, swinging round in a semicircle, met something +which felt like a shoulder.  He slipped his grasp +down to the arm, and clutched it with all the force +at his disposal.</p> + +<h2>IX</h2> + +<h2>MAINLY ABOUT FERRETS</h2> + +<p>“Ow!” exclaimed the captive, +with no uncertain voice.  “Let go, you ass, +you’re hurting.”</p> + +<p>The voice was a treble voice.  +This surprised O’Hara.  It looked very much +as if he had put up the wrong bird.  From the dimensions +of the arm which he was holding, his prisoner seemed +to be of tender years.</p> + +<p>“Let go, Harvey, you idiot.  I shall kick.”</p> + +<p>Before the threat could be put into +execution, O’Hara, who had been fumbling all +this while in his pocket for a match, found one loose, +and struck a light.  The features of the owner +of the arm—­he was still holding it—­were +lit up for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s young Renford!” +he exclaimed.  “What are you doing down +here?”</p> + +<p>Renford, however, continued to pursue +the topic of his arm, and the effect that the vice-like +grip of the Irishman had had upon it.</p> + +<p>“You’ve nearly broken it,” he said, +complainingly.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry.  I mistook you for somebody +else.  Who’s that with you?”</p> + +<p>“It’s me,” said an ungrammatical +voice.</p> + +<p>“Who’s me?”</p> + +<p>“Harvey.”</p> + +<p>At this point a soft yellow light +lit up the more immediate neighbourhood.  Harvey +had brought a bicycle lamp into action.</p> + +<p>“That’s more like it,” +said Renford.  “Look here, O’Hara, +you won’t split, will you?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not an informer by profession, thanks,” +said O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know it’s all right, +really, but you can’t be too careful, because +one isn’t allowed down here, and there’d +be a beastly row if it got out about our being down +here.”</p> + +<p>“And <i>they</i> would be cobbed,” put +in Harvey.</p> + +<p>“Who are they?” asked O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Ferrets.  Like to have a look at them?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Ferrets!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Harvey brought back +a couple at the beginning of term.  Ripping little +beasts.  We couldn’t keep them in the house, +as they’d have got dropped on in a second, so +we had to think of somewhere else, and thought why +not keep them down here?”</p> + +<p>“Why, indeed?” said O’Hara.  +“Do ye find they like it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>they</i> don’t +mind,” said Harvey.  “We feed ’em +twice a day.  Once before breakfast—­we +take it in turns to get up early—­and once +directly after school.  And on half-holidays and +Sundays we take them out on to the downs.”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“Why, rabbits, of course.  +Renford brought back a saloon-pistol with him.  +We keep it locked up in a box—­don’t +tell any one.”</p> + +<p>“And what do ye do with the rabbits?”</p> + +<p>“We pot at them as they come out of the holes.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but when ye hit ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Renford, with +some reluctance, “we haven’t exactly hit +any yet.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got jolly near, +though, lots of times,” said Harvey.  “Last +Saturday I swear I wasn’t more than a quarter +of an inch off one of them.  If it had been a +decent-sized rabbit, I should have plugged it middle +stump; only it was a small one, so I missed.  But +come and see them.  We keep ’em right at +the other end of the place, in case anybody comes +in.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever seen anybody down here?” +asked O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Once,” said Renford.  +“Half-a-dozen chaps came down here once while +we were feeding the ferrets.  We waited till they’d +got well in, then we nipped out quietly.  They +didn’t see us.”</p> + +<p>“Did you see who they were?”</p> + +<p>“No.  It was too dark.  +Here they are.  Rummy old crib this, isn’t +it?  Look out for your shins on the chairs.  +Switch on the light, Harvey.  There, aren’t +they <i>rippers</i>?  Quite tame, too.  They +know us quite well.  They know they’re going +to be fed, too.  Hullo, Sir Nigel!  This is +Sir Nigel.  Out of the ‘White Company’, +you know.  Don’t let him nip your fingers.  +This other one’s Sherlock Holmes.”</p> + +<p>“Cats-s-s—­s!!” +said O’Hara.  He had a sort of idea that +that was the right thing to say to any animal that +could chase and bite.</p> + +<p>Renford was delighted to be able to +show his ferrets off to so distinguished a visitor.</p> + +<p>“What were you down here about?” +inquired Harvey, when the little animals had had their +meal, and had retired once more into private life.</p> + +<p>O’Hara had expected this question, +but he did not quite know what answer to give.  +Perhaps, on the whole, he thought, it would be best +to tell them the real reason.  If he refused to +explain, their curiosity would be roused, which would +be fatal.  And to give any reason except the true +one called for a display of impromptu invention of +which he was not capable.  Besides, they would +not be likely to give away his secret while he held +this one of theirs connected with the ferrets.  +He explained the situation briefly, and swore them +to silence on the subject.</p> + +<p>Renford’s comment was brief.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” he observed.</p> + +<p>Harvey went more deeply into the question.</p> + +<p>“What makes you think they meet down here?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“I saw some fellows cutting +out of here last night.  And you say ye’ve +seen them here, too.  I don’t see what object +they could have down here if they weren’t the +League holding a meeting.  I don’t see what +else a chap would be after.”</p> + +<p>“He might be keeping ferrets,” hazarded +Renford.</p> + +<p>“The whole school doesn’t +keep ferrets,” said O’Hara.  “You’re +unique in that way.  No, it must be the League, +an’ I mean to wait here till they come.”</p> + +<p>“Not all night?” asked +Harvey.  He had a great respect for O’Hara, +whose reputation in the school for out-of-the-way +doings was considerable.  In the bright lexicon +of O’Hara he believed there to be no such word +as “impossible.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said O’Hara, +“but till lock-up.  You two had better cut +now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think we’d better,” said +Harvey.</p> + +<p>“And don’t ye breathe +a word about this to a soul”—­a warning +which extracted fervent promises of silence from both +youths.</p> + +<p>“This,” said Harvey, as +they emerged on to the gravel, “is something +like.  I’m jolly glad we’re in it.”</p> + +<p>“Rather.  Do you think O’Hara will +catch them?”</p> + +<p>“He must if he waits down there +long enough.  They’re certain to come again.  +Don’t you wish you’d been here when the +League was on before?”</p> + +<p>“I should think I did.  +Race you over to the shop.  I want to get something +before it shuts.”</p> + +<p>“Right ho!” And they disappeared.</p> + +<p>O’Hara waited where he was till +six struck from the clock-tower, followed by the sound +of the bell as it rang for lock-up.  Then he picked +his way carefully through the groves of chairs, barking +his shins now and then on their out-turned legs, and, +pushing open the door, went out into the open air.  +It felt very fresh and pleasant after the brand of +atmosphere supplied in the vault.  He then ran +over to the gymnasium to meet Moriarty, feeling a +little disgusted at the lack of success that had attended +his detective efforts up to the present.  So far +he had nothing to show for his trouble except a good +deal of dust on his clothes, and a dirty collar, but +he was full of determination.  He could play a +waiting game.</p> + +<p>It was a pity, as it happened, that +O’Hara left the vault when he did.  Five +minutes after he had gone, six shadowy forms made their +way silently and in single file through the doorway +of the vault, which they closed carefully behind them.  +The fact that it was after lock-up was of small consequence.  +A good deal of latitude in that way was allowed at +Wrykyn.  It was the custom to go out, after the +bell had sounded, to visit the gymnasium.  In +the winter and Easter terms, the gymnasium became +a sort of social club.  People went there with +a very small intention of doing gymnastics.  They +went to lounge about, talking to cronies, in front +of the two huge stoves which warmed the place.  +Occasionally, as a concession to the look of the thing, +they would do an easy exercise or two on the horse +or parallels, but, for the most part, they preferred +the <i>rôle</i> of spectator.  There was plenty +to see.  In one corner O’Hara and Moriarty +would be sparring their nightly six rounds (in two +batches of three rounds each).  In another, Drummond, +who was going up to Aldershot as a feather-weight, +would be putting in a little practice with the instructor.  +On the apparatus, the members of the gymnastic six, +including the two experts who were to carry the school +colours to Aldershot in the spring, would be performing +their usual marvels.  It was worth dropping into +the gymnasium of an evening.  In no other place +in the school were so many sights to be seen.</p> + +<p>When you were surfeited with sightseeing, +you went off to your house.  And this was where +the peculiar beauty of the gymnasium system came in.  +You went up to any master who happened to be there—­there +was always one at least—­and observed in +suave accents, “Please, sir, can I have a paper?” +Whereupon, he, taking a scrap of paper, would write +upon it, “J.  O. Jones (or A. B. Smith or +C. D. Robinson) left gymnasium at such-and-such a +time”.  And, by presenting this to the menial +who opened the door to you at your house, you went +in rejoicing, and all was peace.</p> + +<p>Now, there was no mention on the paper +of the hour at which you came to the gymnasium—­only +of the hour at which you left.  Consequently, certain +lawless spirits would range the neighbourhood after +lock-up, and, by putting in a quarter of an hour at +the gymnasium before returning to their houses, escape +comment.  To this class belonged the shadowy forms +previously mentioned.</p> + +<p>O’Hara had forgotten this custom, +with the result that he was not at the vault when +they arrived.  Moriarty, to whom he confided between +the rounds the substance of his evening’s discoveries, +reminded him of it.  “It’s no good +watching before lock-up,” he said.  “After +six is the time they’ll come, if they come at +all.”</p> + +<p>“Bedad, ye’re right,” +said O’Hara.  “One of these nights +we’ll take a night off from boxing, and go and +watch.”</p> + +<p>“Right,” said Moriarty.  “Are +ye ready to go on?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I’m going to +practise that left swing at the body this round.  +The one Fitzsimmons does.”  And they “put +’em up” once more.</p> + +<h2>X</h2> + +<h2>BEING A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS</h2> + +<p>On the evening following O’Hara’s +adventure in the vaults, Barry and M’Todd were +in their study, getting out the tea-things.  Most +Wrykinians brewed in the winter and Easter terms, +when the days were short and lock-up early.  In +the summer term there were other things to do—­nets, +which lasted till a quarter to seven (when lock-up +was), and the baths—­and brewing practically +ceased.  But just now it was at its height, and +every evening, at a quarter past five, there might +be heard in the houses the sizzling of the succulent +sausage and other rare delicacies.  As a rule, +one or two studies would club together to brew, instead +of preparing solitary banquets.  This was found +both more convivial and more economical.  At Seymour’s, +studies numbers five, six, and seven had always combined +from time immemorial, and Barry, on obtaining study +six, had carried on the tradition.  In study five +were Drummond and his friend De Bertini.  In study +seven, which was a smaller room and only capable of +holding one person with any comfort, one James Rupert +Leather-Twigg (that was his singular name, as Mr Gilbert +has it) had taken up his abode.  The name of Leather-Twigg +having proved, at an early date in his career, too +great a mouthful for Wrykyn, he was known to his friends +and acquaintances by the euphonious title of Shoeblossom.  +The charm about the genial Shoeblossom was that you +could never tell what he was going to do next.  +All that you could rely on with any certainty was +that it would be something which would have been better +left undone.</p> + +<p>It was just five o’clock when +Barry and M’Todd started to get things ready.  +They were not high enough up in the school to have +fags, so that they had to do this for themselves.</p> + +<p>Barry was still in football clothes.  +He had been out running and passing with the first +fifteen.  M’Todd, whose idea of exercise +was winding up a watch, had been spending his time +since school ceased in the study with a book.  +He was in his ordinary clothes.  It was therefore +fortunate that, when he upset the kettle (he nearly +always did at some period of the evening’s business), +the contents spread themselves over Barry, and not +over himself.  Football clothes will stand any +amount of water, whereas M’Todd’s “Youth’s +winter suiting at forty-two shillings and sixpence” +might have been injured.  Barry, however, did not +look upon the episode in this philosophical light.  +He spoke to him eloquently for a while, and then sent +him downstairs to fetch more water.  While he +was away, Drummond and De Bertini came in.</p> + +<p>“Hullo,” said Drummond, “tea ready?”</p> + +<p>“Not much,” replied Barry, +bitterly, “not likely to be, either, at this +rate.  We’d just got the kettle going when +that ass M’Todd plunged against the table and +upset the lot over my bags.  Lucky the beastly +stuff wasn’t boiling.  I’m soaked.”</p> + +<p>“While we wait—­the +sausages—­Yes?—­a good idea—­M’Todd, +he is downstairs—­but to wait?  No, +no.  Let us.  Shall we?  Is it not so?  +Yes?” observed Bertie, lucidly.</p> + +<p>“Now construe,” said Barry, +looking at the linguist with a bewildered expression.  +It was a source of no little inconvenience to his friends +that De Bertini was so very fixed in his determination +to speak English.  He was a trier all the way, +was De Bertini.  You rarely caught him helping +out his remarks with the language of his native land.  +It was English or nothing with him.  To most of +his circle it might as well have been Zulu.</p> + +<p>Drummond, either through natural genius +or because he spent more time with him, was generally +able to act as interpreter.  Occasionally there +would come a linguistic effort by which even he freely +confessed himself baffled, and then they would pass +on unsatisfied.  But, as a rule, he was equal +to the emergency.  He was so now.</p> + +<p>“What Bertie means,” he +explained, “is that it’s no good us waiting +for M’Todd to come back.  He never could +fill a kettle in less than ten minutes, and even then +he’s certain to spill it coming upstairs and +have to go back again.  Let’s get on with +the sausages.”</p> + +<p>The pan had just been placed on the +fire when M’Todd returned with the water.  +He tripped over the mat as he entered, and spilt about +half a pint into one of his football boots, which +stood inside the door, but the accident was comparatively +trivial, and excited no remark.</p> + +<p>“I wonder where that slacker +Shoeblossom has got to,” said Barry.  “He +never turns up in time to do any work.  He seems +to regard himself as a beastly guest.  I wish +we could finish the sausages before he comes.  +It would be a sell for him.”</p> + +<p>“Not much chance of that,” +said Drummond, who was kneeling before the fire and +keeping an excited eye on the spluttering pan, “<i>you</i> +see.  He’ll come just as we’ve finished +cooking them.  I believe the man waits outside +with his ear to the keyhole.  Hullo!  Stand +by with the plate.  They’ll be done in half +a jiffy.”</p> + +<p>Just as the last sausage was deposited +in safety on the plate, the door opened, and Shoeblossom, +looking as if he had not brushed his hair since early +childhood, sidled in with an attempt at an easy nonchalance +which was rendered quite impossible by the hopeless +state of his conscience.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he said, “brewing, I see.  +Can I be of any use?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve finished years ago,” said +Barry.</p> + +<p>“Ages ago,” said M’Todd.</p> + +<p>A look of intense alarm appeared on Shoeblossom’s +classical features.</p> + +<p>“You’ve not finished, really?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve finished cooking +everything,” said Drummond.  “We haven’t +begun tea yet.  Now, are you happy?”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom was.  So happy that +he felt he must do something to celebrate the occasion.  +He felt like a successful general.  There must +be <i>something</i> he could do to show that he regarded +the situation with approval.  He looked round +the study.  Ha!  Happy thought—­the +frying-pan.  That useful culinary instrument was +lying in the fender, still bearing its cargo of fat, +and beside it—­a sight to stir the blood +and make the heart beat faster—­were the +sausages, piled up on their plate.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom stooped.  He seized +the frying-pan.  He gave it one twirl in the air.  +Then, before any one could stop him, he had turned +it upside down over the fire.  As has been already +remarked, you could never predict exactly what James +Rupert Leather-Twigg would be up to next.</p> + +<p>When anything goes out of the frying-pan +into the fire, it is usually productive of interesting +by-products.  The maxim applies to fat.  The +fat was in the fire with a vengeance.  A great +sheet of flame rushed out and up.  Shoeblossom +leaped back with a readiness highly creditable in +one who was not a professional acrobat.  The covering +of the mantelpiece caught fire.  The flames went +roaring up the chimney.</p> + +<p>Drummond, cool while everything else +was so hot, without a word moved to the mantelpiece +to beat out the fire with a football shirt.  Bertie +was talking rapidly to himself in French.  Nobody +could understand what he was saying, which was possibly +fortunate.</p> + +<p>By the time Drummond had extinguished +the mantelpiece, Barry had also done good work by +knocking the fire into the grate with the poker.  +M’Todd, who had been standing up till now in +the far corner of the room, gaping vaguely at things +in general, now came into action.  Probably it +was force of habit that suggested to him that the time +had come to upset the kettle.  At any rate, upset +it he did—­most of it over the glowing, +blazing mass in the grate, the rest over Barry.  +One of the largest and most detestable smells the +study had ever had to endure instantly assailed their +nostrils.  The fire in the study was out now, +but in the chimney it still blazed merrily.</p> + +<p>“Go up on to the roof and heave +water down,” said Drummond, the strategist.  +“You can get out from Milton’s dormitory +window.  And take care not to chuck it down the +wrong chimney.”</p> + +<p>Barry was starting for the door to +carry out these excellent instructions, when it flew +open.</p> + +<p>“Pah!  What have you boys +been doing?  What an abominable smell.  Pah!” +said a muffled voice.  It was Mr Seymour.  +Most of his face was concealed in a large handkerchief, +but by the look of his eyes, which appeared above, +he did not seem pleased.  He took in the situation +at a glance.  Fires in the house were not rarities.  +One facetious sportsman had once made a rule of setting +the senior day-room chimney on fire every term.  +He had since left (by request), but fires still occurred.</p> + +<p>“Is the chimney on fire?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Drummond.</p> + +<p>“Go and find Herbert, and tell +him to take some water on to the roof and throw it +down.”  Herbert was the boot and knife cleaner +at Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>Barry went.  Soon afterwards a +splash of water in the grate announced that the intrepid +Herbert was hard at it.  Another followed, and +another.  Then there was a pause.  Mr Seymour +thought he would look up to see if the fire was out.  +He stooped and peered into the darkness, and, even +as he gazed, splash came the contents of the fourth +pail, together with some soot with which they had +formed a travelling acquaintance on the way down.  +Mr Seymour staggered back, grimy and dripping.  +There was dead silence in the study.  Shoeblossom’s +face might have been seen working convulsively.</p> + +<p>The silence was broken by a hollow, +sepulchral voice with a strong Cockney accent.</p> + +<p>“Did yer see any water come +down then, sir?” said the voice.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom collapsed into a chair, +and began to sob feebly.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>“—­disgraceful … +scandalous … get <i>up</i>, Leather-Twigg … not +to be trusted … <i>babies</i> … three hundred +lines, Leather-Twigg … abominable … surprised +… ought to be ashamed of yourselves … <i>double</i>, +Leather-Twigg … not fit to have studies … atrocious +…—­”</p> + +<p>Such were the main heads of Mr Seymour’s +speech on the situation as he dabbed desperately at +the soot on his face with his handkerchief.  Shoeblossom +stood and gurgled throughout.  Not even the thought +of six hundred lines could quench that dauntless spirit.</p> + +<p>“Finally,” perorated Mr +Seymour, as he was leaving the room, “as you +are evidently not to be trusted with rooms of your +own, I forbid you to enter them till further notice.  +It is disgraceful that such a thing should happen.  +Do you hear, Barry?  And you, Drummond?  You +are not to enter your studies again till I give you +leave.  Move your books down to the senior day-room +tonight.”</p> + +<p>And Mr Seymour stalked off to clean himself.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow,” said Shoeblossom, +as his footsteps died away, “we saved the sausages.”</p> + +<p>It is this indomitable gift of looking +on the bright side that makes us Englishmen what we +are.</p> + +<h2>XI</h2> + +<h2>THE HOUSE-MATCHES</h2> + +<p>It was something of a consolation +to Barry and his friends—­at any rate, to +Barry and Drummond—­that directly after they +had been evicted from their study, the house-matches +began.  Except for the Ripton match, the house-matches +were the most important event of the Easter term.  +Even the sports at the beginning of April were productive +of less excitement.  There were twelve houses +at Wrykyn, and they played on the “knocking-out” +system.  To be beaten once meant that a house was +no longer eligible for the competition.  It could +play “friendlies” as much as it liked, +but, play it never so wisely, it could not lift the +cup.  Thus it often happened that a weak house, +by fluking a victory over a strong rival, found itself, +much to its surprise, in the semi-final, or sometimes +even in the final.  This was rarer at football +than at cricket, for at football the better team generally +wins.</p> + +<p>The favourites this year were Donaldson’s, +though some fancied Seymour’s.  Donaldson’s +had Trevor, whose leadership was worth almost more +than his play.  In no other house was training +so rigid.  You could tell a Donaldson’s +man, if he was in his house-team, at a glance.  +If you saw a man eating oatmeal biscuits in the shop, +and eyeing wistfully the while the stacks of buns +and pastry, you could put him down as a Donaldsonite +without further evidence.  The captains of the +other houses used to prescribe a certain amount of +self-abnegation in the matter of food, but Trevor +left his men barely enough to support life—­enough, +that is, of the things that are really worth eating.  +The consequence was that Donaldson’s would turn +out for an important match all muscle and bone, and +on such occasions it was bad for those of their opponents +who had been taking life more easily.  Besides +Trevor they had Clowes, and had had bad luck in not +having Paget.  Had Paget stopped, no other house +could have looked at them.  But by his departure, +the strength of the team had become more nearly on +a level with that of Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>Some even thought that Seymour’s +were the stronger.  Milton was as good a forward +as the school possessed.  Besides him there were +Barry and Rand-Brown on the wings.  Drummond was +a useful half, and five of the pack had either first +or second fifteen colours.  It was a team that +would take some beating.</p> + +<p>Trevor came to that conclusion early.  +“If we can beat Seymour’s, we’ll +lift the cup,” he said to Clowes.</p> + +<p>“We’ll have to do all we know,” +was Clowes’ reply.</p> + +<p>They were watching Seymour’s +pile up an immense score against a scratch team got +up by one of the masters.  The first round of the +competition was over.  Donaldson’s had beaten +Templar’s, Seymour’s the School House.  +Templar’s were rather stronger than the School +House, and Donaldson’s had beaten them by a +rather larger score than that which Seymour’s +had run up in their match.  But neither Trevor +nor Clowes was inclined to draw any augury from this.  +Seymour’s had taken things easily after half-time; +Donaldson’s had kept going hard all through.</p> + +<p>“That makes Rand-Brown’s +fourth try,” said Clowes, as the wing three-quarter +of the second fifteen raced round and scored in the +corner.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  This is the sort +of game he’s all right in.  The man who’s +marking him is no good.  Barry’s scored +twice, and both good tries, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there’s no doubt +which is the best man,” said Clowes.  “I +only mentioned that it was Rand-Brown’s fourth +as an item of interest.”</p> + +<p>The game continued.  Barry scored a third try.</p> + +<p>“We’re drawn against Appleby’s +next round,” said Trevor.  “We can +manage them all right.”</p> + +<p>“When is it?”</p> + +<p>“Next Thursday.  Nomads’ match on +Saturday.  Then Ripton, Saturday week.”</p> + +<p>“Who’ve Seymour’s drawn?”</p> + +<p>“Day’s.  It’ll +be a good game, too.  Seymour’s ought to +win, but they’ll have to play their best.  +Day’s have got some good men.”</p> + +<p>“Fine scrum,” said Clowes.  +“Yes.  Quick in the open, too, which is +always good business.  I wish they’d beat +Seymour’s.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we ought to be all right, whichever wins.”</p> + +<p>Appleby’s did not offer any +very serious resistance to the Donaldson attack.  +They were outplayed at every point of the game, and, +before half-time, Donaldson’s had scored their +thirty points.  It was a rule in all in-school +matches—­and a good rule, too—­that, +when one side led by thirty points, the match stopped.  +This prevented those massacres which do so much towards +crushing all the football out of the members of the +beaten team; and it kept the winning team from getting +slack, by urging them on to score their thirty points +before half-time.  There were some houses—­notoriously +slack—­which would go for a couple of seasons +without ever playing the second half of a match.</p> + +<p>Having polished off the men of Appleby, +the Donaldson team trooped off to the other game to +see how Seymour’s were getting on with Day’s.  +It was evidently an exciting match.  The first +half had been played to the accompaniment of much +shouting from the ropes.  Though coming so early +in the competition, it was really the semi-final, for +whichever team won would be almost certain to get +into the final.  The school had turned up in large +numbers to watch.</p> + +<p>“Seymour’s looking tired +of life,” said Clowes.  “That would +seem as if his fellows weren’t doing well.”</p> + +<p>“What’s been happening +here?” asked Trevor of an enthusiast in a Seymour’s +house cap whose face was crimson with yelling.</p> + +<p>“One goal all,” replied +the enthusiast huskily.  “Did you beat Appleby’s?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Thirty points before +half-time.  Who’s been doing the scoring +here?”</p> + +<p>“Milton got in for us.  +He barged through out of touch.  We’ve been +pressing the whole time.  Barry got over once, +but he was held up.  Hullo, they’re beginning +again.  Buck up, Sey-<i>mour’s</i>.”</p> + +<p>His voice cracking on the high note, +he took an immense slab of vanilla chocolate as a +remedy for hoarseness.</p> + +<p>“Who scored for Day’s?” asked Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Strachan.  Rand-Brown let +him through from their twenty-five.  You never +saw anything so rotten as Rand-Brown.  He doesn’t +take his passes, and Strachan gets past him every +time.”</p> + +<p>“Is Strachan playing on the wing?”</p> + +<p>Strachan was the first fifteen full-back.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  They’ve put +young Bassett back instead of him.  Sey-<i>mour’s</i>.  +Buck up, Seymour’s.  We-ell played!  +There, did you ever see anything like it?” he +broke off disgustedly.</p> + +<p>The Seymourite playing centre next +to Rand-Brown had run through to the back and passed +out to his wing, as a good centre should.  It was +a perfect pass, except that it came at his head instead +of his chest.  Nobody with any pretensions to +decent play should have missed it.  Rand-Brown, +however, achieved that feat.  The ball struck his +hands and bounded forward.  The referee blew his +whistle for a scrum, and a certain try was lost.</p> + +<p>From the scrum the Seymour’s +forwards broke away to the goal-line, where they were +pulled up by Bassett.  The next minute the defence +had been pierced, and Drummond was lying on the ball +a yard across the line.  The enthusiast standing +by Clowes expended the last relics of his voice in +commemorating the fact that his side had the lead.</p> + +<p>“Drummond’ll be good next +year,” said Trevor.  And he made a mental +note to tell Allardyce, who would succeed him in the +command of the school football, to keep an eye on +the player in question.</p> + +<p>The triumph of the Seymourites was +not long lived.  Milton failed to convert Drummond’s +try.  From the drop-out from the twenty-five line +Barry got the ball, and punted into touch.  The +throw-out was not straight, and a scrum was formed.  +The ball came out to the Day’s halves, and went +across to Strachan.  Rand-Brown hesitated, and +then made a futile spring at the first fifteen man’s +neck.  Strachan handed him off easily, and ran.  +The Seymour’s full-back, who was a poor player, +failed to get across in time.  Strachan ran round +behind the posts, the kick succeeded, and Day’s +now led by two points.</p> + +<p>After this the game continued in Day’s +half.  Five minutes before time was up, Drummond +got the ball from a scrum nearly on the line, passed +it to Barry on the wing instead of opening up the game +by passing to his centres, and Barry slipped through +in the corner.  This put Seymour’s just +one point ahead, and there they stayed till the whistle +blew for no-side.</p> + +<p>Milton walked over to the boarding-houses +with Clowes and Trevor.  He was full of the match, +particularly of the iniquity of Rand-Brown.  “I +slanged him on the field,” he said.  “It’s +a thing I don’t often do, but what else <i>can</i> +you do when a man plays like that?  He lost us +three certain tries.”</p> + +<p>“When did you administer your rebuke?” +inquired Clowes.</p> + +<p>“When he had let Strachan through +that second time, in the second half.  I asked +him why on earth he tried to play footer at all.  +I told him a good kiss-in-the-ring club was about +his form.  It was rather cheap, but I felt so +frightfully sick about it.  It’s sickening +to be let down like that when you’ve been pressing +the whole time, and ought to be scoring every other +minute.”</p> + +<p>“What had he to say on the subject?” asked +Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he gassed a bit until I +told him I’d kick him if he said another word.  +That shut him up.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to have kicked him.  +You want all the kicking practice you can get.  +I never saw anything feebler than that shot of yours +after Drummond’s try.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to see <i>you</i> +take a kick like that.  It was nearly on the touch-line.  +Still, when we play you, we shan’t need to convert +any of our tries.  We’ll get our thirty +points without that.  Perhaps you’d like +to scratch?”</p> + +<p>“As a matter of fact,” +said Clowes confidentially, “I am going to score +seven tries against you off my own bat.  You’ll +be sorry you ever turned out when we’ve finished +with you.”</p> + +<h2>XII</h2> + +<h2>NEWS OF THE GOLD BAT</h2> + +<p>Shoeblossom sat disconsolately on +the table in the senior day-room.  He was not +happy in exile.  Brewing in the senior day-room +was a mere vulgar brawl, lacking all the refining +influences of the study.  You had to fight for +a place at the fire, and when you had got it ’twas +not always easy to keep it, and there was no privacy, +and the fellows were always bear-fighting, so that +it was impossible to read a book quietly for ten consecutive +minutes without some ass heaving a cushion at you +or turning out the gas.  Altogether Shoeblossom +yearned for the peace of his study, and wished earnestly +that Mr Seymour would withdraw the order of banishment.  +It was the not being able to read that he objected +to chiefly.  In place of brewing, the ex-proprietors +of studies five, six, and seven now made a practice +of going to the school shop.  It was more expensive +and not nearly so comfortable—­there is a +romance about a study brew which you can never get +anywhere else—­but it served, and it was +not on this score that he grumbled most.  What +he hated was having to live in a bear-garden.  +For Shoeblossom was a man of moods.  Give him +two or three congenial spirits to back him up, and +he would lead the revels with the <i>abandon</i> of +a Mr Bultitude (after his return to his original form).  +But he liked to choose his accomplices, and the gay +sparks of the senior day-room did not appeal to him.  +They were not intellectual enough.  In his lucid +intervals, he was accustomed to be almost abnormally +solemn and respectable.  When not promoting some +unholy rag, Shoeblossom resembled an elderly gentleman +of studious habits.  He liked to sit in a comfortable +chair and read a book.  It was the impossibility +of doing this in the senior day-room that led him to +try and think of some other haven where he might rest.  +Had it been summer, he would have taken some literature +out on to the cricket-field or the downs, and put +in a little steady reading there, with the aid of +a bag of cherries.  But with the thermometer low, +that was impossible.</p> + +<p>He felt very lonely and dismal.  +He was not a man with many friends.  In fact, +Barry and the other three were almost the only members +of the house with whom he was on speaking-terms.  +And of these four he saw very little.  Drummond +and Barry were always out of doors or over at the +gymnasium, and as for M’Todd and De Bertini, +it was not worth while talking to the one, and impossible +to talk to the other.  No wonder Shoeblossom felt +dull.  Once Barry and Drummond had taken him over +to the gymnasium with them, but this had bored him +worse than ever.  They had been hard at it all +the time—­for, unlike a good many of the +school, they went to the gymnasium for business, not +to lounge—­and he had had to sit about watching +them.  And watching gymnastics was one of the +things he most loathed.  Since then he had refused +to go.</p> + +<p>That night matters came to a head.  +Just as he had settled down to read, somebody, in +flinging a cushion across the room, brought down the +gas apparatus with a run, and before light was once +more restored it was tea-time.  After that there +was preparation, which lasted for two hours, and by +the time he had to go to bed he had not been able to +read a single page of the enthralling work with which +he was at present occupied.</p> + +<p>He had just got into bed when he was +struck with a brilliant idea.  Why waste the precious +hours in sleep?  What was that saying of somebody’s, +“Five hours for a wise man, six for somebody +else—­he forgot whom—­eight for +a fool, nine for an idiot,” or words to that +effect?  Five hours sleep would mean that he need +not go to bed till half past two.  In the meanwhile +he could be finding out exactly what the hero <i>did</i> +do when he found out (to his horror) that it was his +cousin Jasper who had really killed the old gentleman +in the wood.  The only question was—­how +was he to do his reading?  Prefects were allowed +to work on after lights out in their dormitories by +the aid of a candle, but to the ordinary mortal this +was forbidden.</p> + +<p>Then he was struck with another brilliant +idea.  It is a curious thing about ideas.  +You do not get one for over a month, and then there +comes a rush of them, all brilliant.  Why, he +thought, should he not go and read in his study with +a dark lantern?  He had a dark lantern.  It +was one of the things he had found lying about at +home on the last day of the holidays, and had brought +with him to school.  It was his custom to go about +the house just before the holidays ended, snapping +up unconsidered trifles, which might or might not +come in useful.  This term he had brought back +a curious metal vase (which looked Indian, but which +had probably been made in Birmingham the year before +last), two old coins (of no mortal use to anybody +in the world, including himself), and the dark lantern.  +It was reposing now in the cupboard in his study nearest +the window.</p> + +<p>He had brought his book up with him +on coming to bed, on the chance that he might have +time to read a page or two if he woke up early. (He +had always been doubtful about that man Jasper.  +For one thing, he had been seen pawning the old gentleman’s +watch on the afternoon of the murder, which was a +suspicious circumstance, and then he was not a nice +character at all, and just the sort of man who would +be likely to murder old gentlemen in woods.) He waited +till Mr Seymour had paid his nightly visit—­he +went the round of the dormitories at about eleven—­and +then he chuckled gently.  If Mill, the dormitory +prefect, was awake, the chuckle would make him speak, +for Mill was of a suspicious nature, and believed +that it was only his unintermitted vigilance which +prevented the dormitory ragging all night.</p> + +<p>Mill <i>was</i> awake.</p> + +<p>“Be quiet, there,” he growled.  “Shut +up that noise.”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom felt that the time was +not yet ripe for his departure.  Half an hour +later he tried again.  There was no rebuke.  +To make certain he emitted a second chuckle, replete +with sinister meaning.  A slight snore came from +the direction of Mill’s bed.  Shoeblossom +crept out of the room, and hurried to his study.  +The door was not locked, for Mr Seymour had relied +on his commands being sufficient to keep the owner +out of it.  He slipped in, found and lit the dark +lantern, and settled down to read.  He read with +feverish excitement.  The thing was, you see, that +though Claud Trevelyan (that was the hero) knew jolly +well that it was Jasper who had done the murder, the +police didn’t, and, as he (Claud) was too noble +to tell them, he had himself been arrested on suspicion.  +Shoeblossom was skimming through the pages with starting +eyes, when suddenly his attention was taken from his +book by a sound.  It was a footstep.  Somebody +was coming down the passage, and under the door filtered +a thin stream of light.  To snap the dark slide +over the lantern and dart to the door, so that if +it opened he would be behind it, was with him, as +Mr Claud Trevelyan might have remarked, the work of +a moment.  He heard the door of study number five +flung open, and then the footsteps passed on, and +stopped opposite his own den.  The handle turned, +and the light of a candle flashed into the room, to +be extinguished instantly as the draught of the moving +door caught it.</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom heard his visitor utter +an exclamation of annoyance, and fumble in his pocket +for matches.  He recognised the voice.  It +was Mr Seymour’s.  The fact was that Mr +Seymour had had the same experience as General Stanley +in <i>The Pirates of Penzance</i>: </p> + +<p>    The man who finds his conscience +ache,<br /> +      No peace at all +enjoys;<br /> +    And, as I lay in bed awake,<br /> +      I thought I heard +a noise.</p> + +<p>Whether Mr Seymour’s conscience +ached or not, cannot, of course, be discovered.  +But he had certainly thought he heard a noise, and +he had come to investigate.</p> + +<p>The search for matches had so far +proved fruitless.  Shoeblossom stood and quaked +behind the door.  The reek of hot tin from the +dark lantern grew worse momentarily.  Mr Seymour +sniffed several times, until Shoeblossom thought that +he must be discovered.  Then, to his immense relief, +the master walked away.  Shoeblossom’s chance +had come.  Mr Seymour had probably gone to get +some matches to relight his candle.  It was far +from likely that the episode was closed.  He would +be back again presently.  If Shoeblossom was going +to escape, he must do it now, so he waited till the +footsteps had passed away, and then darted out in the +direction of his dormitory.</p> + +<p>As he was passing Milton’s study, +a white figure glided out of it.  All that he +had ever read or heard of spectres rushed into Shoeblossom’s +petrified brain.  He wished he was safely in bed.  +He wished he had never come out of it.  He wished +he had led a better and nobler life.  He wished +he had never been born.</p> + +<p>The figure passed quite close to him +as he stood glued against the wall, and he saw it +disappear into the dormitory opposite his own, of +which Rigby was prefect.  He blushed hotly at the +thought of the fright he had been in.  It was +only somebody playing the same game as himself.</p> + +<p>He jumped into bed and lay down, having +first plunged the lantern bodily into his jug to extinguish +it.  Its indignant hiss had scarcely died away +when Mr Seymour appeared at the door.  It had occurred +to Mr Seymour that he had smelt something very much +out of the ordinary in Shoeblossom’s study, +a smell uncommonly like that of hot tin.  And a +suspicion dawned on him that Shoeblossom had been in +there with a dark lantern.  He had come to the +dormitory to confirm his suspicions.  But a glance +showed him how unjust they had been.  There was +Shoeblossom fast asleep.  Mr Seymour therefore +followed the excellent example of my Lord Tomnoddy +on a celebrated occasion, and went off to bed.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>It was the custom for the captain +of football at Wrykyn to select and publish the team +for the Ripton match a week before the day on which +it was to be played.  On the evening after the +Nomads’ match, Trevor was sitting in his study +writing out the names, when there came a knock at +the door, and his fag entered with a letter.</p> + +<p>“This has just come, Trevor,” he said.</p> + +<p>“All right.  Put it down.”</p> + +<p>The fag left the room.  Trevor +picked up the letter.  The handwriting was strange +to him.  The words had been printed.  Then +it flashed upon him that he had received a letter +once before addressed in the same way—­the +letter from the League about Barry.  Was this, +too, from that address?  He opened it.</p> + +<p>It was.</p> + +<p>He read it, and gasped.  The worst +had happened.  The gold bat was in the hands of +the enemy.</p> + +<h2>XIII</h2> + +<h2>VICTIM NUMBER THREE</h2> + +<p>“With reference to our last +communication,” ran the letter—­the +writer evidently believed in the commercial style—­“it +may interest you to know that the bat you lost by +the statue on the night of the 26th of January has +come into our possession. <i>We observe that Barry +is still playing for the first fifteen.</i>”</p> + +<p>“And will jolly well continue +to,” muttered Trevor, crumpling the paper viciously +into a ball.</p> + +<p>He went on writing the names for the +Ripton match.  The last name on the list was Barry’s.</p> + +<p>Then he sat back in his chair, and +began to wrestle with this new development.  Barry +must play.  That was certain.  All the bluff +in the world was not going to keep him from playing +the best man at his disposal in the Ripton match.  +He himself did not count.  It was the school he +had to think of.  This being so, what was likely +to happen?  Though nothing was said on the point, +he felt certain that if he persisted in ignoring the +League, that bat would find its way somehow—­by +devious routes, possibly—­to the headmaster +or some one else in authority.  And then there +would be questions—­awkward questions—­and +things would begin to come out.  Then a fresh +point struck him, which was, that whatever might happen +would affect, not himself, but O’Hara.  This +made it rather more of a problem how to act.  +Personally, he was one of those dogged characters +who can put up with almost anything themselves.  +If this had been his affair, he would have gone on +his way without hesitating.  Evidently the writer +of the letter was under the impression that he had +been the hero (or villain) of the statue escapade.</p> + +<p>If everything came out it did not +require any great effort of prophecy to predict what +the result would be.  O’Hara would go.  +Promptly.  He would receive his marching orders +within ten minutes of the discovery of what he had +done.  He would be expelled twice over, so to speak, +once for breaking out at night—­one of the +most heinous offences in the school code—­and +once for tarring the statue.  Anything that gave +the school a bad name in the town was a crime in the +eyes of the powers, and this was such a particularly +flagrant case.  Yes, there was no doubt of that.  +O’Hara would take the first train home without +waiting to pack up.  Trevor knew his people well, +and he could imagine their feelings when the prodigal +strolled into their midst—­an old Wrykinian +<i>malgré lui</i>.  As the philosopher said of +falling off a ladder, it is not the falling that matters:  +it is the sudden stopping at the other end.  It +is not the being expelled that is so peculiarly objectionable:  +it is the sudden homecoming.  With this gloomy +vision before him, Trevor almost wavered.  But +the thought that the selection of the team had nothing +whatever to do with his personal feelings strengthened +him.  He was simply a machine, devised to select +the fifteen best men in the school to meet Ripton.  +In his official capacity of football captain he was +not supposed to have any feelings.  However, he +yielded in so far that he went to Clowes to ask his +opinion.</p> + +<p>Clowes, having heard everything and +seen the letter, unhesitatingly voted for the right +course.  If fifty mad Irishmen were to be expelled, +Barry must play against Ripton.  He was the best +man, and in he must go.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I thought,” +said Trevor.  “It’s bad for O’Hara, +though.”</p> + +<p>Clowes remarked somewhat tritely that +business was business.</p> + +<p>“Besides,” he went on, +“you’re assuming that the thing this letter +hints at will really come off.  I don’t think +it will.  A man would have to be such an awful +blackguard to go as low as that.  The least grain +of decency in him would stop him.  I can imagine +a man threatening to do it as a piece of bluff—­by +the way, the letter doesn’t actually say anything +of the sort, though I suppose it hints at it—­but +I can’t imagine anybody out of a melodrama doing +it.”</p> + +<p>“You can never tell,” +said Trevor.  He felt that this was but an outside +chance.  The forbearance of one’s antagonist +is but a poor thing to trust to at the best of times.</p> + +<p>“Are you going to tell O’Hara?” +asked Clowes.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see the good.  Would you?”</p> + +<p>“No.  He can’t do +anything, and it would only give him a bad time.  +There are pleasanter things, I should think, than +going on from day to day not knowing whether you’re +going to be sacked or not within the next twelve hours.  +Don’t tell him.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t.  And Barry plays against +Ripton.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.  He’s the best man.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going over to Seymour’s +now,” said Trevor, after a pause, “to see +Milton.  We’ve drawn Seymour’s in the +next round of the house-matches.  I suppose you +knew.  I want to get it over before the Ripton +match, for several reasons.  About half the fifteen +are playing on one side or the other, and it’ll +give them a good chance of getting fit.  Running +and passing is all right, but a good, hard game’s +the thing for putting you into form.  And then +I was thinking that, as the side that loses, whichever +it is—­”</p> + +<p>“Seymour’s, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Hope so.  Well, they’re +bound to be a bit sick at losing, so they’ll +play up all the harder on Saturday to console themselves +for losing the cup.”</p> + +<p>“My word, what strategy!” +said Clowes.  “You think of everything.  +When do you think of playing it, then?”</p> + +<p>“Wednesday struck me as a good day.  Don’t +you think so?”</p> + +<p>“It would do splendidly.  +It’ll be a good match.  For all practical +purposes, of course, it’s the final.  If +we beat Seymour’s, I don’t think the others +will trouble us much.”</p> + +<p>There was just time to see Milton +before lock-up.  Trevor ran across to Seymour’s, +and went up to his study.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” said Milton, in answer to his +knock.</p> + +<p>Trevor went in, and stood surprised +at the difference in the look of the place since the +last time he had visited it.  The walls, once +covered with photographs, were bare.  Milton, seated +before the fire, was ruefully contemplating what looked +like a heap of waste cardboard.</p> + +<p>Trevor recognised the symptoms.  He had had experience.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say they’ve been +at you, too!” he cried.</p> + +<p>Milton’s normally cheerful face was thunderous +and gloomy.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I was thinking what I’d like +to do to the man who ragged it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the League again, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>Milton looked surprised.</p> + +<p>“<i>Again?</i>” he said, +“where did <i>you</i> hear of the League?  +This is the first time I’ve heard of its existence, +whatever it is.  What is the confounded thing, +and why on earth have they played the fool here?  +What’s the meaning of this bally rot?”</p> + +<p>He exhibited one of the variety of +cards of which Trevor had already seen two specimens.  +Trevor explained briefly the style and nature of the +League, and mentioned that his study also had been +wrecked.</p> + +<p>“Your study?  Why, what have they got against +you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” +said Trevor.  Nothing was to be gained by speaking +of the letters he had received.</p> + +<p>“Did they cut up your photographs?”</p> + +<p>“Every one.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you what it is, Trevor, +old chap,” said Milton, with great solemnity, +“there’s a lunatic in the school.  +That’s what I make of it.  A lunatic whose +form of madness is wrecking studies.”</p> + +<p>“But the same chap couldn’t +have done yours and mine.  It must have been a +Donaldson’s fellow who did mine, and one of your +chaps who did yours and Mill’s.”</p> + +<p>“Mill’s?  By Jove, +of course.  I never thought of that.  That +was the League, too, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  One of those cards +was tied to a chair, but Clowes took it away before +anybody saw it.”</p> + +<p>Milton returned to the details of the disaster.</p> + +<p>“Was there any ink spilt in your room?”</p> + +<p>“Pints,” said Trevor, shortly.  The +subject was painful.</p> + +<p>“So there was here,” said Milton, mournfully.  +“Gallons.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for a while, each pondering over +his wrongs.</p> + +<p>“Gallons,” said Milton +again.  “I was ass enough to keep a large +pot full of it here, and they used it all, every drop.  +You never saw such a sight.”</p> + +<p>Trevor said he had seen one similar spectacle.</p> + +<p>“And my photographs!  You +remember those photographs I showed you?  All +ruined.  Slit across with a knife.  Some torn +in half.  I wish I knew who did that.”</p> + +<p>Trevor said he wished so, too.</p> + +<p>“There was one of Mrs Patrick +Campbell,” Milton continued in heartrending +tones, “which was torn into sixteen pieces.  +I counted them.  There they are on the mantelpiece.  +And there was one of Little Tich” (here he almost +broke down), “which was so covered with ink that +for half an hour I couldn’t recognise it.  +Fact.”</p> + +<p>Trevor nodded sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Milton.  “Soaked.”</p> + +<p>There was another silence.  Trevor +felt it would be almost an outrage to discuss so prosaic +a topic as the date of a house-match with one so broken +up.  Yet time was flying, and lock-up was drawing +near.</p> + +<p>“Are you willing to play—­” +he began.</p> + +<p>“I feel as if I could never +play again,” interrupted Milton.  “You’d +hardly believe the amount of blotting-paper I’ve +used today.  It must have been a lunatic, Dick, +old man.”</p> + +<p>When Milton called Trevor “Dick”, +it was a sign that he was moved.  When he called +him “Dick, old man”, it gave evidence of +an internal upheaval without parallel.</p> + +<p>“Why, who else but a lunatic +would get up in the night to wreck another chap’s +study?  All this was done between eleven last night +and seven this morning.  I turned in at eleven, +and when I came down here again at seven the place +was a wreck.  It must have been a lunatic.”</p> + +<p>“How do you account for the +printed card from the League?”</p> + +<p>Milton murmured something about madmen’s +cunning and diverting suspicion, and relapsed into +silence.  Trevor seized the opportunity to make +the proposal he had come to make, that Donaldson’s +<i>v.</i> Seymour’s should be played on the +following Wednesday.</p> + +<p>Milton agreed listlessly.</p> + +<p>“Just where you’re standing,” +he said, “I found a photograph of Sir Henry +Irving so slashed about that I thought at first it +was Huntley Wright in <i>San Toy</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Start at two-thirty sharp,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“I had seventeen of Edna May,” +continued the stricken Seymourite, monotonously.  +“In various attitudes.  All destroyed.”</p> + +<p>“On the first fifteen ground, +of course,” said Trevor.  “I’ll +get Aldridge to referee.  That’ll suit you, +I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Anything you +like.  Just by the fireplace I found the remains +of Arthur Roberts in <i>H.M.S.  Irresponsible</i>.  +And part of Seymour Hicks.  Under the table—­”</p> + +<p>Trevor departed.</p> + +<h2>XIV</h2> + +<h2>THE WHITE FIGURE</h2> + +<p>“Suppose,” said Shoeblossom +to Barry, as they were walking over to school on the +morning following the day on which Milton’s study +had passed through the hands of the League, “suppose +you thought somebody had done something, but you weren’t +quite certain who, but you knew it was some one, what +would you do?”</p> + +<p>“What on <i>earth</i> do you mean?” inquired +Barry.</p> + +<p>“I was trying to make an A.B. case of it,” +explained Shoeblossom.</p> + +<p>“What’s an A.B. case?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” +admitted Shoeblossom, frankly.  “But it comes +in a book of Stevenson’s.  I think it must +mean a sort of case where you call everyone A. and +B. and don’t tell their names.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go ahead.”</p> + +<p>“It’s about Milton’s study.”</p> + +<p>“What! what about it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, the night it +was ragged I was sitting in my study with a dark lantern—­”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom proceeded to relate the +moving narrative of his night-walking adventure.  +He dwelt movingly on his state of mind when standing +behind the door, waiting for Mr Seymour to come in +and find him.  He related with appropriate force +the hair-raising episode of the weird white figure.  +And then he came to the conclusions he had since drawn +(in calmer moments) from that apparition’s movements.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he said, “I +saw it coming out of Milton’s study, and that +must have been about the time the study was ragged.  +And it went into Rigby’s dorm.  So it must +have been a chap in that dorm, who did it.”</p> + +<p>Shoeblossom was quite clever at rare +intervals.  Even Barry, whose belief in his sanity +was of the smallest, was compelled to admit that here, +at any rate, he was talking sense.</p> + +<p>“What would you do?” asked Shoeblossom.</p> + +<p>“Tell Milton, of course,” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“But he’d give me beans for being out +of the dorm, after lights-out.”</p> + +<p>This was a distinct point to be considered.  +The attitude of Barry towards Milton was different +from that of Shoeblossom.  Barry regarded him—­through +having played with him in important matches—­as +a good sort of fellow who had always behaved decently +to him.  Leather-Twigg, on the other hand, looked +on him with undisguised apprehension, as one in authority +who would give him lines the first time he came into +contact with him, and cane him if he ever did it again.  +He had a decided disinclination to see Milton on any +pretext whatever.</p> + +<p>“Suppose I tell him?” suggested Barry.</p> + +<p>“You’ll keep my name dark?” said +Shoeblossom, alarmed.</p> + +<p>Barry said he would make an A.B. case of it.</p> + +<p>After school he went to Milton’s +study, and found him still brooding over its departed +glories.</p> + +<p>“I say, Milton, can I speak to you for a second?”</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Barry.  Come in.”</p> + +<p>Barry came in.</p> + +<p>“I had forty-three photographs,” +began Milton, without preamble.  “All destroyed.  +And I’ve no money to buy any more.  I had +seventeen of Edna May.”</p> + +<p>Barry, feeling that he was expected +to say something, said, “By Jove!  Really?”</p> + +<p>“In various positions,” continued Milton.  +“All ruined.”</p> + +<p>“Not really?” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“There was one of Little Tich—­”</p> + +<p>But Barry felt unequal to playing +the part of chorus any longer.  It was all very +thrilling, but, if Milton was going to run through +the entire list of his destroyed photographs, life +would be too short for conversation on any other topic.</p> + +<p>“I say, Milton,” he said, “it was +about that that I came.  I’m sorry—­”</p> + +<p>Milton sat up.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t you who did this, was it?”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” said Barry, hastily.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I thought from your saying you were sorry—­”</p> + +<p>“I was going to say I thought +I could put you on the track of the chap who did do +it—­”</p> + +<p>For the second time since the interview began Milton +sat up.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” he said.</p> + +<p>“—­But I’m sorry +I can’t give you the name of the fellow who told +me about it.”</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t matter,” +said Milton.  “Tell me the name of the fellow +who did it.  That’ll satisfy me.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I can’t do that, either.”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea what you <i>can</i> do?” +asked Milton, satirically.</p> + +<p>“I can tell you something which may put you +on the right track.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll do for a start.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, the chap who told me—­I’ll +call him A.; I’m going to make an A.B. case +of it—­was coming out of his study at about +one o’clock in the morning—­”</p> + +<p>“What the deuce was he doing that for?”</p> + +<p>“Because he wanted to go back to bed,” +said Barry.</p> + +<p>“About time, too.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“As he was going past your study, a white figure +emerged—­”</p> + +<p>“I should strongly advise you, +young Barry,” said Milton, gravely, “not +to try and rot me in any way.  You’re a jolly +good wing three-quarters, but you shouldn’t +presume on it.  I’d slay the Old Man himself +if he rotted me about this business.”</p> + +<p>Barry was quite pained at this sceptical +attitude in one whom he was going out of his way to +assist.</p> + +<p>“I’m not rotting,” he protested.  +“This is all quite true.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go on.  You were saying something +about white figures emerging.”</p> + +<p>“Not white figures.  A white +figure,” corrected Barry.  “It came +out of your study—­”</p> + +<p>“—­And vanished through the wall?”</p> + +<p>“It went into Rigby’s +dorm.,” said Barry, sulkily.  It was maddening +to have an exclusive bit of news treated in this way.</p> + +<p>“Did it, by Jove!” said +Milton, interested at last.  “Are you sure +the chap who told you wasn’t pulling your leg?  +Who was it told you?”</p> + +<p>“I promised him not to say.”</p> + +<p>“Out with it, young Barry.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t,” said Barry.</p> + +<p>“You aren’t going to tell me?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Milton gave up the point with much +cheerfulness.  He liked Barry, and he realised +that he had no right to try and make him break his +promise.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” +he said.  “Thanks very much, Barry.  +This may be useful.”</p> + +<p>“I’d tell you his name if I hadn’t +promised, you know, Milton.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said Milton.  +“It’s not important.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there was one thing I forgot.  +It was a biggish chap the fellow saw.”</p> + +<p>“How big!  My size?”</p> + +<p>“Not quite so tall, I should +think.  He said he was about Seymour’s size.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks.  That’s worth knowing.  +Thanks very much, Barry.”</p> + +<p>When his visitor had gone, Milton +proceeded to unearth one of the printed lists of the +house which were used for purposes of roll-call.  +He meant to find out who were in Rigby’s dormitory.  +He put a tick against the names.  There were eighteen +of them.  The next thing was to find out which +of them was about the same height as Mr Seymour.  +It was a somewhat vague description, for the house-master +stood about five feet nine or eight, and a good many +of the dormitory were that height, or near it.  +At last, after much brain-work, he reduced the number +of “possibles” to seven.  These seven +were Rigby himself, Linton, Rand-Brown, Griffith, +Hunt, Kershaw, and Chapple.  Rigby might be scratched +off the list at once.  He was one of Milton’s +greatest friends.  Exeunt also Griffith, Hunt, +and Kershaw.  They were mild youths, quite incapable +of any deed of devilry.  There remained, therefore, +Chapple, Linton, and Rand-Brown.  Chapple was +a boy who was invariably late for breakfast.  The +inference was that he was not likely to forego his +sleep for the purpose of wrecking studies.  Chapple +might disappear from the list.  Now there were +only Linton and Rand-Brown to be considered.  His +suspicions fell on Rand-Brown.  Linton was the +last person, he thought, to do such a low thing.  +He was a cheerful, rollicking individual, who was popular +with everyone and seemed to like everyone.  He +was not an orderly member of the house, certainly, +and on several occasions Milton had found it necessary +to drop on him heavily for creating disturbances.  +But he was not the sort that bears malice.  He +took it all in the way of business, and came up smiling +after it was over.  No, everything pointed to +Rand-Brown.  He and Milton had never got on well +together, and quite recently they had quarrelled openly +over the former’s play in the Day’s match.  +Rand-Brown must be the man.  But Milton was sensible +enough to feel that so far he had no real evidence +whatever.  He must wait.</p> + +<p>On the following afternoon Seymour’s turned +out to play Donaldson’s.</p> + +<p>The game, like most house-matches, +was played with the utmost keenness.  Both teams +had good three-quarters, and they attacked in turn.  +Seymour’s had the best of it forward, where Milton +was playing a great game, but Trevor in the centre +was the best outside on the field, and pulled up rush +after rush.  By half-time neither side had scored.</p> + +<p>After half-time Seymour’s, playing +downhill, came away with a rush to the Donaldsonites’ +half, and Rand-Brown, with one of the few decent runs +he had made in good class football that term, ran in +on the left.  Milton took the kick, but failed, +and Seymour’s led by three points.  For +the next twenty minutes nothing more was scored.  +Then, when five minutes more of play remained, Trevor +gave Clowes an easy opening, and Clowes sprinted between +the posts.  The kick was an easy one, and what +sporting reporters term “the major points” +were easily added.</p> + +<p>When there are five more minutes to +play in an important house-match, and one side has +scored a goal and the other a try, play is apt to +become spirited.  Both teams were doing all they +knew.  The ball came out to Barry on the right.  +Barry’s abilities as a three-quarter rested +chiefly on the fact that he could dodge well.  +This eel-like attribute compensated for a certain +lack of pace.  He was past the Donaldson’s +three-quarters in an instant, and running for the line, +with only the back to pass, and with Clowes in hot +pursuit.  Another wriggle took him past the back, +but it also gave Clowes time to catch him up.  +Clowes was a far faster runner, and he got to him +just as he reached the twenty-five line.  They +came down together with a crash, Clowes on top, and +as they fell the whistle blew.</p> + +<p>“No-side,” said Mr. Aldridge, +the master who was refereeing.</p> + +<p>Clowes got up.</p> + +<p>“All over,” he said.  “Jolly +good game.  Hullo, what’s up?”</p> + +<p>For Barry seemed to be in trouble.</p> + +<p>“You might give us a hand up,” +said the latter.  “I believe I’ve twisted +my beastly ankle or something.”</p> + +<h2>XV</h2> + +<h2>A SPRAIN AND A VACANT PLACE</h2> + +<p>“I say,” said Clowes, +helping him up, “I’m awfully sorry.  +Did I do it?  How did it happen?”</p> + +<p>Barry was engaged in making various +attempts at standing on the injured leg.  The +process seemed to be painful.</p> + +<p>“Shall I get a stretcher or anything?  Can +you walk?”</p> + +<p>“If you’d help me over +to the house, I could manage all right.  What a +beastly nuisance!  It wasn’t your fault a +bit.  Only you tackled me when I was just trying +to swerve, and my ankle was all twisted.”</p> + +<p>Drummond came up, carrying Barry’s blazer and +sweater.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Barry,” he said, “what’s +up?  You aren’t crocked?”</p> + +<p>“Something gone wrong with my +ankle.  That my blazer?  Thanks.  Coming +over to the house?  Clowes was just going to help +me over.”</p> + +<p>Clowes asked a Donaldson’s junior, +who was lurking near at hand, to fetch his blazer +and carry it over to the house, and then made his way +with Drummond and the disabled Barry to Seymour’s.  +Having arrived at the senior day-room, they deposited +the injured three-quarter in a chair, and sent M’Todd, +who came in at the moment, to fetch the doctor.</p> + +<p>Dr Oakes was a big man with a breezy +manner, the sort of doctor who hits you with the force +of a sledge-hammer in the small ribs, and asks you +if you felt anything <i>then</i>.  It was on this +principle that he acted with regard to Barry’s +ankle.  He seized it in both hands and gave it +a wrench.</p> + +<p>“Did that hurt?” he inquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>Barry turned white, and replied that it did.</p> + +<p>Dr Oakes nodded wisely.</p> + +<p>“Ah!  H’m!  Just so.  ’Myes.  +Ah.”</p> + +<p>“Is it bad?” asked Drummond, awed by these +mystic utterances.</p> + +<p>“My dear boy,” replied +the doctor, breezily, “it is always bad when +one twists one’s ankle.”</p> + +<p>“How long will it do me out of footer?” +asked Barry.</p> + +<p>“How long?  How long?  +How long?  Why, fortnight.  Fortnight,” +said the doctor.</p> + +<p>“Then I shan’t be able to play next Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“Next Saturday?  Next Saturday?  +My dear boy, if you can put your foot to the ground +by next Saturday, you may take it as evidence that +the age of miracles is not past.  Next Saturday, +indeed!  Ha, ha.”</p> + +<p>It was not altogether his fault that +he treated the matter with such brutal levity.  +It was a long time since he had been at school, and +he could not quite realise what it meant to Barry +not to be able to play against Ripton.  As for +Barry, he felt that he had never loathed and detested +any one so thoroughly as he loathed and detested Dr +Oakes at that moment.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see where the +joke comes in,” said Clowes, when he had gone.  +“I bar that man.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a beast,” +said Drummond.  “I can’t understand +why they let a tout like that be the school doctor.”</p> + +<p>Barry said nothing.  He was too sore for words.</p> + +<p>What Dr Oakes said to his wife that +evening was:  “Over at the school, my dear, +this afternoon.  This afternoon.  Boy with +a twisted ankle.  Nice young fellow.  Very +much put out when I told him he could not play football +for a fortnight.  But I chaffed him, and cheered +him up in no time.  I cheered him up in no time, +my dear.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you did, dear,” +said Mrs Oakes.  Which shows how differently the +same thing may strike different people.  Barry +certainly did not look as if he had been cheered up +when Clowes left the study and went over to tell Trevor +that he would have to find a substitute for his right +wing three-quarter against Ripton.</p> + +<p>Trevor had left the field without +noticing Barry’s accident, and he was tremendously +pleased at the result of the game.</p> + +<p>“Good man,” he said, when +Clowes came in, “you saved the match.”</p> + +<p>“And lost the Ripton match probably,” +said Clowes, gloomily.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“That last time I brought down +Barry I crocked him.  He’s in his study +now with a sprained ankle.  I’ve just come +from there.  Oakes has seen him, and says he mustn’t +play for a fortnight.”</p> + +<p>“Great Scott!” said Trevor, +blankly.  “What on earth shall we do?”</p> + +<p>“Why not move Strachan up to +the wing, and put somebody else back instead of him?  +Strachan is a good wing.”</p> + +<p>Trevor shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No.  There’s nobody +good enough to play back for the first.  We mustn’t +risk it.”</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose it must be Rand-Brown?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“He may do better than we think.  +He played quite a decent game today.  That try +he got wasn’t half a bad one.”</p> + +<p>“He’d be all right if +he didn’t funk.  But perhaps he wouldn’t +funk against Ripton.  In a match like that anybody +would play up.  I’ll ask Milton and Allardyce +about it.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t go to Milton +today,” said Clowes.  “I fancy he’ll +want a night’s rest before he’s fit to +talk to.  He must be a bit sick about this match.  +I know he expected Seymour’s to win.”</p> + +<p>He went out, but came back almost immediately.</p> + +<p>“I say,” he said, “there’s +one thing that’s just occurred to me.  This’ll +please the League.  I mean, this ankle business +of Barry’s.”</p> + +<p>The same idea had struck Trevor.  +It was certainly a respite.  But he regretted +it for all that.  What he wanted was to beat Ripton, +and Barry’s absence would weaken the team.  +However, it was good in its way, and cleared the atmosphere +for the time.  The League would hardly do anything +with regard to the carrying out of their threat while +Barry was on the sick-list.</p> + +<p>Next day, having given him time to +get over the bitterness of defeat in accordance with +Clowes’ thoughtful suggestion, Trevor called +on Milton, and asked him what his opinion was on the +subject of the inclusion of Rand-Brown in the first +fifteen in place of Barry,</p> + +<p>“He’s the next best man,” +he added, in defence of the proposal.</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” said Milton.  +“He’d better play, I suppose.  There’s +no one else.”</p> + +<p>“Clowes thought it wouldn’t +be a bad idea to shove Strachan on the wing, and put +somebody else back.”</p> + +<p>“Who is there to put?”</p> + +<p>“Jervis?”</p> + +<p>“Not good enough.  No, it’s +better to be weakish on the wing than at back.  +Besides, Rand-Brown may do all right.  He played +well against you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Trevor.  +“Study looks a bit better now,” he added, +as he was going, having looked round the room.  +“Still a bit bare, though.”</p> + +<p>Milton sighed.  “It will never be what it +was.”</p> + +<p>“Forty-three theatrical photographs +want some replacing, of course,” said Trevor.  +“But it isn’t bad, considering.”</p> + +<p>“How’s yours?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, mine’s all right, except for the +absence of photographs.”</p> + +<p>“I say, Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Trevor, stopping +at the door.  Milton’s voice had taken on +the tone of one who is about to disclose dreadful secrets.</p> + +<p>“Would you like to know what I think?”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I’m pretty nearly sure who it was +that ragged my study?”</p> + +<p>“By Jove!  What have you done to him?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing as yet.  I’m not quite sure +of my man.”</p> + +<p>“Who is the man?”</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove!  Clowes once said +he thought Rand-Brown must be the President of the +League.  But then, I don’t see how you can +account for <i>my</i> study being wrecked.  He +was out on the field when it was done.”</p> + +<p>“Why, the League, of course.  +You don’t suppose he’s the only man in +it?  There must be a lot of them.”</p> + +<p>“But what makes you think it was Rand-Brown?”</p> + +<p>Milton told him the story of Shoeblossom, +as Barry had told it to him.  The only difference +was that Trevor listened without any of the scepticism +which Milton had displayed on hearing it.  He was +getting excited.  It all fitted in so neatly.  +If ever there was circumstantial evidence against +a man, here it was against Rand-Brown.  Take the +two cases.  Milton had quarrelled with him.  +Milton’s study was wrecked “with the compliments +of the League”.  Trevor had turned him out +of the first fifteen.  Trevor’s study was +wrecked “with the compliments of the League”.  +As Clowes had pointed out, the man with the most obvious +motive for not wishing Barry to play for the school +was Rand-Brown.  It seemed a true bill.</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t wonder if +you’re right,” he said, “but of course +one can’t do anything yet.  You want a lot +more evidence.  Anyhow, we must play him against +Ripton, I suppose.  Which is his study?  I’ll +go and tell him now.”</p> + +<p>“Ten.”</p> + +<p>Trevor knocked at the door of study +Ten.  Rand-Brown was sitting over the fire, reading.  +He jumped up when he saw that it was Trevor who had +come in, and to his visitor it seemed that his face +wore a guilty look.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” said Rand-Brown.</p> + +<p>It was not the politest way of welcoming +a visitor.  It increased Trevor’s suspicions.  +The man was afraid.  A great idea darted into his +mind.  Why not go straight to the point and have +it out with him here and now?  He had the League’s +letter about the bat in his pocket.  He would +confront him with it and insist on searching the study +there and then.  If Rand-Brown were really, as +he suspected, the writer of the letter, the bat must +be in this room somewhere.  Search it now, and +he would have no time to hide it.  He pulled out +the letter.</p> + +<p>“I believe you wrote that,” he said.</p> + +<p>Trevor was always direct.</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown seemed to turn a little +pale, but his voice when he replied was quite steady.</p> + +<p>“That’s a lie,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Then, perhaps,” said Trevor, “you +wouldn’t object to proving it.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“By letting me search your study?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe my word?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I?  You don’t believe +mine.”</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown made no comment on this remark.</p> + +<p>“Was that what you came here for?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Trevor; “as +a matter of fact, I came to tell you to turn out for +running and passing with the first tomorrow afternoon.  +You’re playing against Ripton on Saturday.”</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown’s attitude underwent +a complete transformation at the news.  He became +friendliness itself.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said.  +“I say, I’m sorry I said what I did about +lying.  I was rather sick that you should think +I wrote that rot you showed me.  I hope you don’t +mind.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit.  Do you mind my searching your +study?”</p> + +<p>For a moment Rand-Brown looked vicious.  Then +he sat down with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” he said; “I +see you don’t believe me.  Here are the keys +if you want them.”</p> + +<p>Trevor thanked him, and took the keys.  +He opened every drawer and examined the writing-desk.  +The bat was in none of these places.  He looked +in the cupboards.  No bat there.</p> + +<p>“Like to take up the carpet?” inquired +Rand-Brown.</p> + +<p>“No, thanks.”</p> + +<p>“Search me if you like.  Shall I turn out +my pockets?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, please,” said Trevor, +to his surprise.  He had not expected to be taken +literally.</p> + +<p>Rand-Brown emptied them, but the bat +was not there.  Trevor turned to go.</p> + +<p>“You’ve not looked inside +the legs of the chairs yet,” said Rand-Brown.  +“They may be hollow.  There’s no knowing.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter, thanks,” +said Trevor.  “Sorry for troubling you.  +Don’t forget tomorrow afternoon.”</p> + +<p>And he went, with the very unpleasant +feeling that he had been badly scored off.</p> + +<h2>XVI</h2> + +<h2>THE RIPTON MATCH</h2> + +<p>It was a curious thing in connection +with the matches between Ripton and Wrykyn, that Ripton +always seemed to be the bigger team.  They always +had a gigantic pack of forwards, who looked capable +of shoving a hole through one of the pyramids.  +Possibly they looked bigger to the Wrykinians than +they really were.  Strangers always look big on +the football field.  When you have grown accustomed +to a person’s appearance, he does not look nearly +so large.  Milton, for instance, never struck +anybody at Wrykyn as being particularly big for a school +forward, and yet today he was the heaviest man on the +field by a quarter of a stone.  But, taken in +the mass, the Ripton pack were far heavier than their +rivals.  There was a legend current among the lower +forms at Wrykyn that fellows were allowed to stop on +at Ripton till they were twenty-five, simply to play +football.  This is scarcely likely to have been +based on fact.  Few lower form legends are.</p> + +<p>Jevons, the Ripton captain, through +having played opposite Trevor for three seasons—­he +was the Ripton left centre-three-quarter—­had +come to be quite an intimate of his.  Trevor had +gone down with Milton and Allardyce to meet the team +at the station, and conduct them up to the school.</p> + +<p>“How have you been getting on +since Christmas?” asked Jevons.</p> + +<p>“Pretty well.  We’ve lost Paget, I +suppose you know?”</p> + +<p>“That was the fast man on the wing, wasn’t +it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ve lost a man, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, that red-haired forward.  I remember +him.”</p> + +<p>“It ought to make us pretty even.  What’s +the ground like?”</p> + +<p>“Bit greasy, I should think.  We had some +rain late last night.”</p> + +<p>The ground <i>was</i> a bit greasy.  +So was the ball.  When Milton kicked off up the +hill with what wind there was in his favour, the outsides +of both teams found it difficult to hold the ball.  +Jevons caught it on his twenty-five line, and promptly +handed it forward.  The first scrum was formed +in the heart of the enemy’s country.</p> + +<p>A deep, swelling roar from either +touch-line greeted the school’s advantage.  +A feature of a big match was always the shouting.  +It rarely ceased throughout the whole course of the +game, the monotonous but impressive sound of five +hundred voices all shouting the same word.  It +was worth hearing.  Sometimes the evenness of the +noise would change to an excited <i>crescendo</i> +as a school three-quarter got off, or the school back +pulled up the attack with a fine piece of defence.  +Sometimes the shouting would give place to clapping +when the school was being pressed and somebody had +found touch with a long kick.  But mostly the +man on the ropes roared steadily and without cessation, +and with the full force of his lungs, the word “<i>Wrykyn!</i>”</p> + +<p>The scrum was a long one.  For +two minutes the forwards heaved and strained, now +one side, now the other, gaining a few inches.  +The Wrykyn pack were doing all they knew to heel, +but their opponents’ superior weight was telling.  +Ripton had got the ball, and were keeping it.  +Their game was to break through with it and rush.  +Then suddenly one of their forwards kicked it on, +and just at that moment the opposition of the Wrykyn +pack gave way, and the scrum broke up.  The ball +came out on the Wrykyn side, and Allardyce whipped +it out to Deacon, who was playing half with him.</p> + +<p>“Ball’s out,” cried +the Ripton half who was taking the scrum.  “Break +up.  It’s out.”</p> + +<p>And his colleague on the left darted +across to stop Trevor, who had taken Deacon’s +pass, and was running through on the right.</p> + +<p>Trevor ran splendidly.  He was +a three-quarter who took a lot of stopping when he +once got away.  Jevons and the Ripton half met +him almost simultaneously, and each slackened his +pace for the fraction of a second, to allow the other +to tackle.  As they hesitated, Trevor passed them.  +He had long ago learned that to go hard when you have +once started is the thing that pays.</p> + +<p>He could see that Rand-Brown was racing +up for the pass, and, as he reached the back, he sent +the ball to him, waist-high.  Then the back got +to him, and he came down with a thud, with a vision, +seen from the corner of his eye, of the ball bounding +forward out of the wing three-quarter’s hands +into touch.  Rand-Brown had bungled the pass in +the old familiar way, and lost a certain try.</p> + +<p>The touch-judge ran up with his flag +waving in the air, but the referee had other views.</p> + +<p>“Knocked on inside,” he said; “scrum +here.”</p> + +<p>“Here” was, Trevor saw +with unspeakable disgust, some three yards from the +goal-line.  Rand-Brown had only had to take the +pass, and he must have scored.</p> + +<p>The Ripton forwards were beginning +to find their feet better now, and they carried the +scrum.  A truculent-looking warrior in one of those +ear-guards which are tied on by strings underneath +the chin, and which add fifty per cent to the ferocity +of a forward’s appearance, broke away with the +ball at his feet, and swept down the field with the +rest of the pack at his heels.  Trevor arrived +too late to pull up the rush, which had gone straight +down the right touch-line, and it was not till Strachan +fell on the ball on the Wrykyn twenty-five line that +the danger ceased to threaten.</p> + +<p>Even now the school were in a bad +way.  The enemy were pressing keenly, and a real +piece of combination among their three-quarters would +only too probably end in a try.  Fortunately for +them, Allardyce and Deacon were a better pair of halves +than the couple they were marking.  Also, the +Ripton forwards heeled slowly, and Allardyce had generally +got his man safely buried in the mud before he could +pass.</p> + +<p>He was just getting round for the +tenth time to bottle his opponent as before, when +he slipped.  When the ball came out he was on all +fours, and the Ripton exponent, finding to his great +satisfaction that he had not been tackled, whipped +the ball out on the left, where a wing three-quarter +hovered.</p> + +<p>This was the man Rand-Brown was supposed +to be marking, and once again did Barry’s substitute +prove of what stuff his tackling powers were made.  +After his customary moment of hesitation, he had at +the Riptonian’s neck.  The Riptonian handed +him off in a manner that recalled the palmy days of +the old Prize Ring—­handing off was always +slightly vigorous in the Ripton <i>v.</i> Wrykyn match—­and +dashed over the line in the extreme corner.</p> + +<p>There was anguish on the two touch-lines.  +Trevor looked savage, but made no comment.  The +team lined up in silence.</p> + +<p>It takes a very good kick to convert +a try from the touch-line.  Jevons’ kick +was a long one, but it fell short.  Ripton led +by a try to nothing.</p> + +<p>A few more scrums near the halfway +line, and a fine attempt at a dropped goal by the +Ripton back, and it was half-time, with the score +unaltered.</p> + +<p>During the interval there were lemons.  +An excellent thing is your lemon at half-time.  +It cools the mouth, quenches the thirst, stimulates +the desire to be at them again, and improves the play.</p> + +<p>Possibly the Wrykyn team had been +happier in their choice of lemons on this occasion, +for no sooner had the game been restarted than Clowes +ran the whole length of the field, dodged through the +three-quarters, punted over the back’s head, +and scored a really brilliant try, of the sort that +Paget had been fond of scoring in the previous term.  +The man on the touch-line brightened up wonderfully, +and began to try and calculate the probable score +by the end of the game, on the assumption that, as +a try had been scored in the first two minutes, ten +would be scored in the first twenty, and so on.</p> + +<p>But the calculations were based on +false premises.  After Strachan had failed to +convert, and the game had been resumed with the score +at one try all, play settled down in the centre, and +neither side could pierce the other’s defence.  +Once Jevons got off for Ripton, but Trevor brought +him down safely, and once Rand-Brown let his man through, +as before, but Strachan was there to meet him, and +the effort came to nothing.  For Wrykyn, no one +did much except tackle.  The forwards were beaten +by the heavier pack, and seldom let the ball out.  +Allardyce intercepted a pass when about ten minutes +of play remained, and ran through to the back.  +But the back, who was a capable man and in his third +season in the team, laid him low scientifically before +he could reach the line.</p> + +<p>Altogether it looked as if the match +were going to end in a draw.  The Wrykyn defence, +with the exception of Rand-Brown, was too good to be +penetrated, while the Ripton forwards, by always getting +the ball in the scrums, kept them from attacking.  +It was about five minutes from the end of the game +when the Ripton right centre-three-quarter, in trying +to punt across to the wing, miskicked and sent the +ball straight into the hands of Trevor’s colleague +in the centre.  Before his man could get round +to him he had slipped through, with Trevor backing +him up.  The back, as a good back should, seeing +two men coming at him, went for the man with the ball.  +But by the time he had brought him down, the ball +was no longer where it had originally been.  Trevor +had got it, and was running in between the posts.</p> + +<p>This time Strachan put on the extra +two points without difficulty.</p> + +<p>Ripton played their hardest for the +remaining minutes, but without result.  The game +ended with Wrykyn a goal ahead—­a goal and +a try to a try.  For the second time in one season +the Ripton match had ended in a victory—­a +thing it was very rarely in the habit of doing.</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>The senior day-room at Seymour’s +rejoiced considerably that night.  The air was +dark with flying cushions, and darker still, occasionally, +when the usual humorist turned the gas out.  Milton +was out, for he had gone to the dinner which followed +the Ripton match, and the man in command of the house +in his absence was Mill.  And the senior day-room +had no respect whatever for Mill.</p> + +<p>Barry joined in the revels as well +as his ankle would let him, but he was not feeling +happy.  The disappointment of being out of the +first still weighed on him.</p> + +<p>At about eight, when things were beginning +to grow really lively, and the noise seemed likely +to crack the window at any moment, the door was flung +open and Milton stalked in.</p> + +<p>“What’s all this row?” he inquired.  +“Stop it at once.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the row <i>had</i> stopped—­directly +he came in.</p> + +<p>“Is Barry here?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said that youth.</p> + +<p>“Congratulate you on your first, +Barry.  We’ve just had a meeting and given +you your colours.  Trevor told me to tell you.”</p> + +<h2>XVII</h2> + +<h2>THE WATCHERS IN THE VAULT</h2> + +<p>For the next three seconds you could +have heard a cannonball drop.  And that was equivalent, +in the senior day-room at Seymour’s, to a dead +silence.  Barry stood in the middle of the room +leaning on the stick on which he supported life, now +that his ankle had been injured, and turned red and +white in regular rotation, as the magnificence of the +news came home to him.</p> + +<p>Then the small voice of Linton was heard.</p> + +<p>“That’ll be six d.  +I’ll trouble you for, young Sammy,” said +Linton.  For he had betted an even sixpence with +Master Samuel Menzies that Barry would get his first +fifteen cap this term, and Barry had got it.</p> + +<p>A great shout went up from every corner +of the room.  Barry was one of the most popular +members of the house, and every one had been sorry +for him when his sprained ankle had apparently put +him out of the running for the last cap.</p> + +<p>“Good old Barry,” said +Drummond, delightedly.  Barry thanked him in a +dazed way.</p> + +<p>Every one crowded in to shake his +hand.  Barry thanked then all in a dazed way.</p> + +<p>And then the senior day-room, in spite +of the fact that Milton had returned, gave itself +up to celebrating the occasion with one of the most +deafening uproars that had ever been heard even in +that factory of noise.  A babel of voices discussed +the match of the afternoon, each trying to outshout +the other.  In one corner Linton was beating wildly +on a biscuit-tin with part of a broken chair.  +Shoeblossom was busy in the opposite corner executing +an intricate step-dance on somebody else’s box.  +M’Todd had got hold of the red-hot poker, and +was burning his initials in huge letters on the seat +of a chair.  Every one, in short, was enjoying +himself, and it was not until an advanced hour that +comparative quiet was restored.  It was a great +evening for Barry, the best he had ever experienced.</p> + +<p>Clowes did not learn the news till +he saw it on the notice-board, on the following Monday.  +When he saw it he whistled softly.</p> + +<p>“I see you’ve given Barry +his first,” he said to Trevor, when they met.  +“Rather sensational.”</p> + +<p>“Milton and Allardyce both thought +he deserved it.  If he’d been playing instead +of Rand-Brown, they wouldn’t have scored at all +probably, and we should have got one more try.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” +said Clowes.  “He deserves it right enough, +and I’m jolly glad you’ve given it him.  +But things will begin to move now, don’t you +think?  The League ought to have a word to say +about the business.  It’ll be a facer for +them.”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember,” asked +Trevor, “saying that you thought it must be +Rand-Brown who wrote those letters?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Milton had an idea that it was Rand-Brown +who ragged his study.”</p> + +<p>“What made him think that?”</p> + +<p>Trevor related the Shoeblossom incident.</p> + +<p>Clowes became quite excited.</p> + +<p>“Then Rand-Brown must be the +man,” he said.  “Why don’t you +go and tackle him?  Probably he’s got the +bat in his study.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not in his study,” +said Trevor, “because I looked everywhere for +it, and got him to turn out his pockets, too.  +And yet I’ll swear he knows something about +it.  One thing struck me as a bit suspicious.  +I went straight into his study and showed him that +last letter—­about the bat, you know, and +accused him of writing it.  Now, if he hadn’t +been in the business somehow, he wouldn’t have +understood what was meant by their saying ‘the +bat you lost’.  It might have been an ordinary +cricket-bat for all he knew.  But he offered to +let me search the study.  It didn’t strike +me as rum till afterwards.  Then it seemed fishy.  +What do you think?”</p> + +<p>Clowes thought so too, but admitted +that he did not see of what use the suspicion was +going to be.  Whether Rand-Brown knew anything +about the affair or not, it was quite certain that +the bat was not with him.</p> + +<p>O’Hara, meanwhile, had decided +that the time had come for him to resume his detective +duties.  Moriarty agreed with him, and they resolved +that that night they would patronise the vault instead +of the gymnasium, and take a holiday as far as their +boxing was concerned.  There was plenty of time +before the Aldershot competition.</p> + +<p>Lock-up was still at six, so at a +quarter to that hour they slipped down into the vault, +and took up their position.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour passed.  +The lock-up bell sounded faintly.  Moriarty began +to grow tired.</p> + +<p>“Is it worth it?” he said, +“an’ wouldn’t they have come before, +if they meant to come?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll give them another +quarter of an hour,” said O’Hara.  +“After that—­”</p> + +<p>“<i>Sh</i>!” whispered Moriarty.</p> + +<p>The door had opened.  They could +see a figure dimly outlined in the semi-darkness.  +Footsteps passed down into the vault, and there came +a sound as if the unknown had cannoned into a chair, +followed by a sharp intake of breath, expressive of +pain.  A scraping sound, and a flash of light, +and part of the vault was lit by a candle.  O’Hara +caught a glimpse of the unknown’s face as he +rose from lighting the candle, but it was not enough +to enable him to recognise him.  The candle was +standing on a chair, and the light it gave was too +feeble to reach the face of any one not on a level +with it.</p> + +<p>The unknown began to drag chairs out +into the neighbourhood of the light.  O’Hara +counted six.</p> + +<p>The sixth chair had scarcely been +placed in position when the door opened again.  +Six other figures appeared in the opening one after +the other, and bolted into the vault like rabbits +into a burrow.  The last of them closed the door +after them.</p> + +<p>O’Hara nudged Moriarty, and +Moriarty nudged O’Hara; but neither made a sound.  +They were not likely to be seen—­the blackness +of the vault was too Egyptian for that—­but +they were so near to the chairs that the least whisper +must have been heard.  Not a word had proceeded +from the occupants of the chairs so far.  If O’Hara’s +suspicion was correct, and this was really the League +holding a meeting, their methods were more secret +than those of any other secret society in existence.  +Even the Nihilists probably exchanged a few remarks +from time to time, when they met together to plot.  +But these men of mystery never opened their lips.  +It puzzled O’Hara.</p> + +<p>The light of the candle was obscured +for a moment, and a sound of puffing came from the +darkness.</p> + +<p>O’Hara nudged Moriarty again.</p> + +<p>“Smoking!” said the nudge.</p> + +<p>Moriarty nudged O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Smoking it is!” was the meaning of the +movement.</p> + +<p>A strong smell of tobacco showed that +the diagnosis had been a true one.  Each of the +figures in turn lit his pipe at the candle, and sat +back, still in silence.  It could not have been +very pleasant, smoking in almost pitch darkness, but +it was breaking rules, which was probably the main +consideration that swayed the smokers.  They puffed +away steadily, till the two Irishmen were wrapped +about in invisible clouds.</p> + +<p>Then a strange thing happened.  +I know that I am infringing copyright in making that +statement, but it so exactly suits the occurrence, +that perhaps Mr Rider Haggard will not object.  +It <i>was</i> a strange thing that happened.</p> + +<p>A rasping voice shattered the silence.</p> + +<p>“You boys down there,” +said the voice, “come here immediately.  +Come here, I say.”</p> + +<p>It was the well-known voice of Mr +Robert Dexter, O’Hara and Moriarty’s beloved +house-master.</p> + +<p>The two Irishmen simultaneously clutched +one another, each afraid that the other would think—­from +force of long habit—­that the house-master +was speaking to him.  Both stood where they were.  +It was the men of mystery and tobacco that Dexter +was after, they thought.</p> + +<p>But they were wrong.  What had +brought Dexter to the vault was the fact that he had +seen two boys, who looked uncommonly like O’Hara +and Moriarty, go down the steps of the vault at a +quarter to six.  He had been doing his usual after-lock-up +prowl on the junior gravel, to intercept stragglers, +and he had been a witness—­from a distance +of fifty yards, in a very bad light—­of +the descent into the vault.  He had remained on +the gravel ever since, in the hope of catching them +as they came up; but as they had not come up, he had +determined to make the first move himself.  He +had not seen the six unknowns go down, for, the evening +being chilly, he had paced up and down, and they had +by a lucky accident chosen a moment when his back +was turned.</p> + +<p>“Come up immediately,” he repeated.</p> + +<p>Here a blast of tobacco-smoke rushed +at him from the darkness.  The candle had been +extinguished at the first alarm, and he had not realised—­though +he had suspected it—­that smoking had been +going on.</p> + +<p>A hurried whispering was in progress +among the unknowns.  Apparently they saw that +the game was up, for they picked their way towards +the door.</p> + +<p>As each came up the steps and passed +him, Mr Dexter observed “Ha!” and appeared +to make a note of his name.  The last of the six +was just leaving him after this process had been completed, +when Mr Dexter called him back.</p> + +<p>“That is not all,” he said, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said the last of the unknowns.</p> + +<p>Neither of the Irishmen recognised +the voice.  Its owner was a stranger to them.</p> + +<p>“I tell you it is not,” +snapped Mr Dexter.  “You are concealing the +truth from me.  O’Hara and Moriarty are down +there—­two boys in my own house.  I +saw them go down there.”</p> + +<p>“They had nothing to do with +us, sir.  We saw nothing of them.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt,” said +the house-master, “that you imagine that you +are doing a very chivalrous thing by trying to hide +them, but you will gain nothing by it.  You may +go.”</p> + +<p>He came to the top of the steps, and +it seemed as if he intended to plunge into the darkness +in search of the suspects.  But, probably realising +the futility of such a course, he changed his mind, +and delivered an ultimatum from the top step.</p> + +<p>“O’Hara and Moriarty.”</p> + +<p>No reply.</p> + +<p>“O’Hara and Moriarty, +I know perfectly well that you are down there.  +Come up immediately.”</p> + +<p>Dignified silence from the vault.</p> + +<p>“Well, I shall wait here till +you do choose to come up.  You would be well advised +to do so immediately.  I warn you you will not +tire me out.”</p> + +<p>He turned, and the door slammed behind him.</p> + +<p>“What’ll we do?” whispered Moriarty.  +It was at last safe to whisper.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said O’Hara, “I’m +thinking.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara thought.  For many +minutes he thought in vain.  At last there came +flooding back into his mind a memory of the days of +his faghood.  It was after that that he had been +groping all the time.  He remembered now.  +Once in those days there had been an unexpected function +in the middle of term.  There were needed for +that function certain chairs.  He could recall +even now his furious disgust when he and a select body +of fellow fags had been pounced upon by their form-master, +and coerced into forming a line from the junior block +to the cloisters, for the purpose of handing chairs.  +True, his form-master had stood ginger-beer after the +event, with princely liberality, but the labour was +of the sort that gallons of ginger-beer will not make +pleasant.  But he ceased to regret the episode +now.  He had been at the extreme end of the chair-handling +chain.  He had stood in a passage in the junior +block, just by the door that led to the masters’ +garden, and which—­he remembered—­was +never locked till late at night.  And while he +stood there, a pair of hands—­apparently +without a body—­had heaved up chair after +chair through a black opening in the floor.  In +other words, a trap-door connected with the vault in +which he now was.</p> + +<p>He imparted these reminiscences of +childhood to Moriarty.  They set off to search +for the missing door, and, after wanderings and barkings +of shins too painful to relate, they found it.  +Moriarty lit a match.  The light fell on the trap-door, +and their last doubts were at an end.  The thing +opened inwards.  The bolt was on their side, not +in the passage above them.  To shoot the bolt +took them one second, to climb into the passage one +minute.  They stood at the side of the opening, +and dusted their clothes.</p> + +<p>“Bedad!” said Moriarty, suddenly.</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Why, how are we to shut it?”</p> + +<p>This was a problem that wanted some +solving.  Eventually they managed it, O’Hara +leaning over and fishing for it, while Moriarty held +his legs.</p> + +<p>As luck would have it—­and +luck had stood by them well all through—­there +was a bolt on top of the trap-door, as well as beneath +it.</p> + +<p>“Supposing that had been shot!” +said O’Hara, as they fastened the door in its +place.</p> + +<p>Moriarty did not care to suppose anything so unpleasant.</p> + +<p>Mr Dexter was still prowling about +on the junior gravel, when the two Irishmen ran round +and across the senior gravel to the gymnasium.  +Here they put in a few minutes’ gentle sparring, +and then marched boldly up to Mr Day (who happened +to have looked in five minutes after their arrival) +and got their paper.</p> + +<p>“What time did O’Hara +and Moriarty arrive at the gymnasium?” asked +Mr Dexter of Mr Day next morning.</p> + +<p>“O’Hara and Moriarty?  +Really, I can’t remember.  I know they <i>left</i> +at about a quarter to seven.”</p> + +<p>That profound thinker, Mr Tony Weller, +was never so correct as in his views respecting the +value of an <i>alibi</i>.  There are few better +things in an emergency.</p> + +<h2>XVIII</h2> + +<h2>O’HARA EXCELS HIMSELF</h2> + +<p>It was Renford’s turn next morning +to get up and feed the ferrets.  Harvey had done +it the day before.</p> + +<p>Renford was not a youth who enjoyed +early rising, but in the cause of the ferrets he would +have endured anything, so at six punctually he slid +out of bed, dressed quietly, so as not to disturb the +rest of the dormitory, and ran over to the vault.  +To his utter amazement he found it locked.  Such +a thing had never been done before in the whole course +of his experience.  He tugged at the handle, but +not an inch or a fraction of an inch would the door +yield.  The policy of the Open Door had ceased +to find favour in the eyes of the authorities.</p> + +<p>A feeling of blank despair seized +upon him.  He thought of the dismay of the ferrets +when they woke up and realised that there was no chance +of breakfast for them.  And then they would gradually +waste away, and some day somebody would go down to +the vault to fetch chairs, and would come upon two +mouldering skeletons, and wonder what they had once +been.  He almost wept at the vision so conjured +up.</p> + +<p>There was nobody about.  Perhaps +he might break in somehow.  But then there was +nothing to get to work with.  He could not kick +the door down.  No, he must give it up, and the +ferrets’ breakfast-hour must be postponed.  +Possibly Harvey might be able to think of something.</p> + +<p>“Fed ’em?” inquired Harvey, when +they met at breakfast.</p> + +<p>“No, I couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Why on earth not?  You didn’t oversleep +yourself?”</p> + +<p>Renford poured his tale into his friend’s shocked +ears.</p> + +<p>“My hat!” said Harvey, +when he had finished, “what on earth are we to +do?  They’ll starve.”</p> + +<p>Renford nodded mournfully.</p> + +<p>“Whatever made them go and lock the door?” +he said.</p> + +<p>He seemed to think the authorities +should have given him due notice of such an action.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure they have locked it?  +It isn’t only stuck or something?”</p> + +<p>“I lugged at the handle for +hours.  But you can go and see for yourself if +you like.”</p> + +<p>Harvey went, and, waiting till the +coast was clear, attached himself to the handle with +a prehensile grasp, and put his back into one strenuous +tug.  It was even as Renford had said.  The +door was locked beyond possibility of doubt.</p> + +<p>Renford and he went over to school +that morning with long faces and a general air of +acute depression.  It was perhaps fortunate for +their purpose that they did, for had their appearance +been normal it might not have attracted O’Hara’s +attention.  As it was, the Irishman, meeting them +on the junior gravel, stopped and asked them what was +wrong.  Since the adventure in the vault, he had +felt an interest in Renford and Harvey.</p> + +<p>The two told their story in alternate +sentences like the Strophe and Antistrophe of a Greek +chorus. ("Steichomuthics,” your Greek scholar +calls it, I fancy.  Ha, yes!  Just so.)</p> + +<p>“So ye can’t get in because +they’ve locked the door, an’ ye don’t +know what to do about it?” said O’Hara, +at the conclusion of the narrative.</p> + +<p>Renford and Harvey informed him in +chorus that that <i>was</i> the state of the game +up to present date.</p> + +<p>“An’ ye want me to get them out for you?”</p> + +<p>Neither had dared to hope that he +would go so far as this.  What they had looked +for had been at the most a few thoughtful words of +advice.  That such a master-strategist as O’Hara +should take up their cause was an unexampled piece +of good luck.</p> + +<p>“If you only would,” said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“We should be most awfully obliged,” said +Renford.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said O’Hara.</p> + +<p>They thanked him profusely.</p> + +<p>O’Hara replied that it would be a privilege.</p> + +<p>He should be sorry, he said, to have anything happen +to the ferrets.</p> + +<p>Renford and Harvey went on into school +feeling more cheerful.  If the ferrets could be +extracted from their present tight corner, O’Hara +was the man to do it.</p> + +<p>O’Hara had not made his offer +of assistance in any spirit of doubt.  He was +certain that he could do what he had promised.  +For it had not escaped his memory that this was a +Tuesday—­in other words, a mathematics morning +up to the quarter to eleven interval.  That meant, +as has been explained previously, that, while the rest +of the school were in the form-rooms, he would be +out in the passage, if he cared to be.  There +would be no witnesses to what he was going to do.</p> + +<p>But, by that curious perversity of +fate which is so often noticeable, Mr Banks was in +a peculiarly lamb-like and long-suffering mood this +morning.  Actions for which O’Hara would +on other days have been expelled from the room without +hope of return, today were greeted with a mild “Don’t +do that, please, O’Hara,” or even the ridiculously +inadequate “O’Hara!” It was perfectly +disheartening.  O’Hara began to ask himself +bitterly what was the use of ragging at all if this +was how it was received.  And the moments were +flying, and his promise to Renford and Harvey still +remained unfulfilled.</p> + +<p>He prepared for fresh efforts.</p> + +<p>So desperate was he, that he even +resorted to crude methods like the throwing of paper +balls and the dropping of books.  And when your +really scientific ragger sinks to this, he is nearing +the end of his tether.  O’Hara hated to +be rude, but there seemed no help for it.</p> + +<p>The striking of a quarter past ten +improved his chances.  It had been privily agreed +upon beforehand amongst the members of the class that +at a quarter past ten every one was to sneeze simultaneously.  +The noise startled Mr Banks considerably.  The +angelic mood began to wear off.  A man may be +long-suffering, but he likes to draw the line somewhere.</p> + +<p>“Another exhibition like that,” +he said, sharply, “and the class stays in after +school, O’Hara!”</p> + +<p>“Sir?”</p> + +<p>“Silence.”</p> + +<p>“I said nothing, sir, really.”</p> + +<p>“Boy, you made a cat-like noise with your mouth.”</p> + +<p>“What <i>sort</i> of noise, sir?”</p> + +<p>The form waited breathlessly.  +This peculiarly insidious question had been invented +for mathematical use by one Sandys, who had left at +the end of the previous summer.  It was but rarely +that the master increased the gaiety of nations by +answering the question in the manner desired.</p> + +<p>Mr Banks, off his guard, fell into the trap.</p> + +<p>“A noise like this,” he +said curtly, and to the delighted audience came the +melodious sound of a “Mi-aou”, which put +O’Hara’s effort completely in the shade, +and would have challenged comparison with the war-cry +of the stoutest mouser that ever trod a tile.</p> + +<p>A storm of imitations arose from all +parts of the room.  Mr Banks turned pink, and, +going straight to the root of the disturbance, forthwith +evicted O’Hara.</p> + +<p>O’Hara left with the satisfying +feeling that his duty had been done.</p> + +<p>Mr Banks’ room was at the top +of the middle block.  He ran softly down the stairs +at his best pace.  It was not likely that the master +would come out into the passage to see if he was still +there, but it might happen, and it would be best to +run as few risks as possible.</p> + +<p>He sprinted over to the junior block, +raised the trap-door, and jumped down.  He knew +where the ferrets had been placed, and had no difficulty +in finding them.  In another minute he was in the +passage again, with the trap-door bolted behind him.</p> + +<p>He now asked himself—­what +should he do with them?  He must find a safe place, +or his labours would have been in vain.</p> + +<p>Behind the fives-court, he thought, +would be the spot.  Nobody ever went there.  +It meant a run of three hundred yards there and the +same distance back, and there was more than a chance +that he might be seen by one of the Powers.  In +which case he might find it rather hard to explain +what he was doing in the middle of the grounds with +a couple of ferrets in his possession when the hands +of the clock pointed to twenty minutes to eleven.</p> + +<p>But the odds were against his being seen.  He +risked it.</p> + +<p>When the bell rang for the quarter +to eleven interval the ferrets were in their new home, +happily discussing a piece of meat—­Renford’s +contribution, held over from the morning’s meal,—­and +O’Hara, looking as if he had never left the +passage for an instant, was making his way through +the departing mathematical class to apologise handsomely +to Mr Banks—­as was his invariable custom—­for +his disgraceful behaviour during the morning’s +lesson.</p> + +<h2>XIX</h2> + +<h2>THE MAYOR’S VISIT</h2> + +<p>School prefects at Wrykyn did weekly +essays for the headmaster.  Those who had got +their scholarships at the ’Varsity, or who were +going up in the following year, used to take their +essays to him after school and read them to him—­an +unpopular and nerve-destroying practice, akin to suicide.  +Trevor had got his scholarship in the previous November.  +He was due at the headmaster’s private house +at six o’clock on the present Tuesday.  +He was looking forward to the ordeal not without apprehension.  +The essay subject this week had been “One man’s +meat is another man’s poison”, and Clowes, +whose idea of English Essay was that it should be +a medium for <i>intempestive</i> frivolity, had insisted +on his beginning with, “While I cannot conscientiously +go so far as to say that one man’s meat is another +man’s poison, yet I am certainly of opinion that +what is highly beneficial to one man may, on the other +hand, to another man, differently constituted, be +extremely deleterious, and, indeed, absolutely fatal.”</p> + +<p>Trevor was not at all sure how the +headmaster would take it.  But Clowes had seemed +so cut up at his suggestion that it had better be omitted, +that he had allowed it to stand.</p> + +<p>He was putting the final polish on +this gem of English literature at half-past five, +when Milton came in.</p> + +<p>“Busy?” said Milton.</p> + +<p>Trevor said he would be through in a minute.</p> + +<p>Milton took a chair, and waited.</p> + +<p>Trevor scratched out two words and +substituted two others, made a couple of picturesque +blots, and, laying down his pen, announced that he +had finished.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” he said.</p> + +<p>“It’s about the League,” said Milton.</p> + +<p>“Found out anything?”</p> + +<p>“Not anything much.  But +I’ve been making inquiries.  You remember +I asked you to let me look at those letters of yours?”</p> + +<p>Trevor nodded.  This had happened on the Sunday +of that week.</p> + +<p>“Well, I wanted to look at the post-marks.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, I never thought of that.”</p> + +<p>Milton continued with the business-like +air of the detective who explains in the last chapter +of the book how he did it.</p> + +<p>“I found, as I thought, that both letters came +from the same place.”</p> + +<p>Trevor pulled out the letters in question.  + “So they do,” he said, “Chesterton.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know Chesterton?” asked Milton.</p> + +<p>“Only by name.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a small hamlet about +two miles from here across the downs.  There’s +only one shop in the place, which acts as post-office +and tobacconist and everything else.  I thought +that if I went there and asked about those letters, +they might remember who it was that sent them, if +I showed them a photograph.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove,” said Trevor, “of course!  +Did you?  What happened?”</p> + +<p>“I went there yesterday afternoon.  +I took about half-a-dozen photographs of various chaps, +including Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“But wait a bit.  If Chesterton’s +two miles off, Rand-Brown couldn’t have sent +the letters.  He wouldn’t have the time after +school.  He was on the grounds both the afternoons +before I got the letters.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said Milton; +“I didn’t think of that at the time.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“One of the points about the +Chesterton post-office is that there’s no letter-box +outside.  You have to go into the shop and hand +anything you want to post across the counter.  +I thought this was a tremendous score for me.  +I thought they would be bound to remember who handed +in the letters.  There can’t be many at +a place like that.”</p> + +<p>“Did they remember?”</p> + +<p>“They remembered the letters +being given in distinctly, but as for knowing anything +beyond that, they were simply futile.  There was +an old woman in the shop, aged about three hundred +and ten, I should think.  I shouldn’t say +she had ever been very intelligent, but now she simply +gibbered.  I started off by laying out a shilling +on some poisonous-looking sweets.  I gave the +lot to a village kid when I got out.  I hope they +didn’t kill him.  Then, having scattered +ground-bait in that way, I lugged out the photographs, +mentioned the letters and the date they had been sent, +and asked her to weigh in and identify the sender.”</p> + +<p>“Did she?”</p> + +<p>“My dear chap, she identified +them all, one after the other.  The first was +one of Clowes.  She was prepared to swear on oath +that that was the chap who had sent the letters.  +Then I shot a photograph of you across the counter, +and doubts began to creep in.  She said she was +certain it was one of those two ‘la-ads’, +but couldn’t quite say which.  To keep her +amused I fired in photograph number three—­Allardyce’s.  +She identified that, too.  At the end of ten minutes +she was pretty sure that it was one of the six—­the +other three were Paget, Clephane, and Rand-Brown—­but +she was not going to bind herself down to any particular +one.  As I had come to the end of my stock of photographs, +and was getting a bit sick of the game, I got up to +go, when in came another ornament of Chesterton from +a room at the back of the shop.  He was quite +a kid, not more than a hundred and fifty at the outside, +so, as a last chance, I tackled him on the subject.  +He looked at the photographs for about half an hour, +mumbling something about it not being ’thiccy +‘un’ or ’that ‘un’, or +’that ’ere tother ‘un’, until +I began to feel I’d had enough of it.  Then +it came out that the real chap who had sent the letters +was a ‘la-ad’ with light hair, not so big +as me—­”</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t help us much,” said +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“—­And a ‘prarper +little gennlemun’.  So all we’ve got +to do is to look for some young duke of polished manners +and exterior, with a thatch of light hair.”</p> + +<p>“There are three hundred and +sixty-seven fellows with light hair in the school,” +said Trevor, calmly.</p> + +<p>“Thought it was three hundred +and sixty-eight myself,” said Milton, “but +I may be wrong.  Anyhow, there you have the results +of my investigations.  If you can make anything +out of them, you’re welcome to it.  Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>“Half a second,” said +Trevor, as he got up; “had the fellow a cap of +any sort?”</p> + +<p>“No.  Bareheaded.  You +wouldn’t expect him to give himself away by +wearing a house-cap?”</p> + +<p>Trevor went over to the headmaster’s +revolving this discovery in his mind.  It was +not much of a clue, but the smallest clue is better +than nothing.  To find out that the sender of +the League letters had fair hair narrowed the search +down a little.  It cleared the more raven-locked +members of the school, at any rate.  Besides, by +combining his information with Milton’s, the +search might be still further narrowed down.  He +knew that the polite letter-writer must be either +in Seymour’s or in Donaldson’s.  The +number of fair-haired youths in the two houses was +not excessive.  Indeed, at the moment he could +not recall any; which rather complicated matters.</p> + +<p>He arrived at the headmaster’s +door, and knocked.  He was shown into a room at +the side of the hall, near the door.  The butler +informed him that the headmaster was engaged at present.  +Trevor, who knew the butler slightly through having +constantly been to see the headmaster on business +<i>via</i> the front door, asked who was there.</p> + +<p>“Sir Eustace Briggs,” +said the butler, and disappeared in the direction +of his lair beyond the green baize partition at the +end of the hall.</p> + +<p>Trevor went into the room, which was +a sort of spare study, and sat down, wondering what +had brought the mayor of Wrykyn to see the headmaster +at this advanced hour.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later the sound +of voices broke in upon his peace.  The headmaster +was coming down the hall with the intention of showing +his visitor out.  The door of Trevor’s room +was ajar, and he could hear distinctly what was being +said.  He had no particular desire to play the +eavesdropper, but the part was forced upon him.</p> + +<p>Sir Eustace seemed excited.</p> + +<p>“It is far from being my habit,” +he was saying, “to make unnecessary complaints +respecting the conduct of the lads under your care.” +(Sir Eustace Briggs had a distaste for the shorter +and more colloquial forms of speech.  He would +have perished sooner than have substituted “complain +of your boys” for the majestic formula he had +used.  He spoke as if he enjoyed choosing his +words.  He seemed to pause and think before each +word.  Unkind people—­who were jealous +of his distinguished career—­used to say +that he did this because he was afraid of dropping +an aitch if he relaxed his vigilance.)</p> + +<p>“But,” continued he, “I +am reluctantly forced to the unpleasant conclusion +that the dastardly outrage to which both I and the +Press of the town have called your attention is to +be attributed to one of the lads to whom I ’<i>ave</i>—­<i>have</i> +(this with a jerk) referred.”</p> + +<p>“I will make a thorough inquiry, +Sir Eustace,” said the bass voice of the headmaster.</p> + +<p>“I thank you,” said the +mayor.  “It would, under the circumstances, +be nothing more, I think, than what is distinctly +advisable.  The man Samuel Wapshott, of whose +narrative I have recently afforded you a brief synopsis, +stated in no uncertain terms that he found at the foot +of the statue on which the dastardly outrage was perpetrated +a diminutive ornament, in shape like the bats that +are used in the game of cricket.  This ornament, +he avers (with what truth I know not), was handed +by him to a youth of an age coeval with that of the +lads in the upper division of this school.  The +youth claimed it as his property, I was given to understand.”</p> + +<p>“A thorough inquiry shall be made, Sir Eustace.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you.”</p> + +<p>And then the door shut, and the conversation ceased.</p> + +<h2>XX</h2> + +<h2>THE FINDING OF THE BAT</h2> + +<p>Trevor waited till the headmaster +had gone back to his library, gave him five minutes +to settle down, and then went in.</p> + +<p>The headmaster looked up inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“My essay, sir,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes.  I had forgotten.”</p> + +<p>Trevor opened the notebook and began +to read what he had written.  He finished the +paragraph which owed its insertion to Clowes, and raced +hurriedly on to the next.  To his surprise the +flippancy passed unnoticed, at any rate, verbally.  +As a rule the headmaster preferred that quotations +from back numbers of <i>Punch</i> should be kept out +of the prefects’ English Essays.  And he +generally said as much.  But today he seemed strangely +preoccupied.  A split infinitive in paragraph five, +which at other times would have made him sit up in +his chair stiff with horror, elicited no remark.  +The same immunity was accorded to the insertion (inspired +by Clowes, as usual) of a popular catch phrase in +the last few lines.  Trevor finished with the feeling +that luck had favoured him nobly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the headmaster, +seemingly roused by the silence following on the conclusion +of the essay.  “Yes.”  Then, after +a long pause, “Yes,” again.</p> + +<p>Trevor said nothing, but waited for further comment.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the headmaster +once more, “I think that is a very fair essay.  +Very fair.  It wants a little more—­er—­not +quite so much—­<i>um</i>—­yes.”</p> + +<p>Trevor made a note in his mind to +effect these improvements in future essays, and was +getting up, when the headmaster stopped him.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go, Trevor.  I wish to speak +to you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor’s first thought was, +perhaps naturally, that the bat was going to be brought +into discussion.  He was wondering helplessly how +he was going to keep O’Hara and his midnight +exploit out of the conversation, when the headmaster +resumed.  “An unpleasant thing has happened, +Trevor—­”</p> + +<p>“Now we’re coming to it,” thought +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“It appears, Trevor, that a +considerable amount of smoking has been going on in +the school.”</p> + +<p>Trevor breathed freely once more.  +It was only going to be a mere conventional smoking +row after all.  He listened with more enjoyment +as the headmaster, having stopped to turn down the +wick of the reading-lamp which stood on the table +at his side, and which had begun, appropriately enough, +to smoke, resumed his discourse.</p> + +<p>“Mr Dexter—­”</p> + +<p>Of course, thought Trevor.  If +there ever was a row in the school, Dexter was bound +to be at the bottom of it.</p> + +<p>“Mr Dexter has just been in +to see me.  He reported six boys.  He discovered +them in the vault beneath the junior block.  Two +of them were boys in your house.”</p> + +<p>Trevor murmured something wordless, +to show that the story interested him.</p> + +<p>“You knew nothing of this, of course—­”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“No.  Of course not.  +It is difficult for the head of a house to know all +that goes on in that house.”</p> + +<p>Was this his beastly sarcasm?  +Trevor asked himself.  But he came to the conclusion +that it was not.  After all, the head of a house +is only human.  He cannot be expected to keep +an eye on the private life of every member of his +house.</p> + +<p>“This must be stopped, Trevor.  +There is no saying how widespread the practice has +become or may become.  What I want you to do is +to go straight back to your house and begin a complete +search of the studies.”</p> + +<p>“Tonight, sir?” It seemed too late for +such amusement.</p> + +<p>“Tonight.  But before you +go to your house, call at Mr Seymour’s, and +tell Milton I should like to see him.  And, Trevor.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir?”</p> + +<p>“You will understand that I +am leaving this matter to you to be dealt with by +you.  I shall not require you to make any report +to me.  But if you should find tobacco in any +boy’s room, you must punish him well, Trevor.  +Punish him well.”</p> + +<p>This meant that the culprit must be +“touched up” before the house assembled +in the dining-room.  Such an event did not often +occur.  The last occasion had been in Paget’s +first term as head of Donaldson’s, when two +of the senior day-room had been discovered attempting +to revive the ancient and dishonourable custom of +bullying.  This time, Trevor foresaw, would set +up a record in all probability.  There might be +any number of devotees of the weed, and he meant to +carry out his instructions to the full, and make the +criminals more unhappy than they had been since the +day of their first cigar.  Trevor hated the habit +of smoking at school.  He was so intensely keen +on the success of the house and the school at games, +that anything which tended to damage the wind and +eye filled him with loathing.  That anybody should +dare to smoke in a house which was going to play in +the final for the House Football Cup made him rage +internally, and he proposed to make things bad and +unrestful for such.</p> + +<p>To smoke at school is to insult the +divine weed.  When you are obliged to smoke in +odd corners, fearing every moment that you will be +discovered, the whole meaning, poetry, romance of a +pipe vanishes, and you become like those lost beings +who smoke when they are running to catch trains.  +The boy who smokes at school is bound to come to a +bad end.  He will degenerate gradually into a +person that plays dominoes in the smoking-rooms of +A.B.C. shops with friends who wear bowler hats and +frock coats.</p> + +<p>Much of this philosophy Trevor expounded +to Clowes in energetic language when he returned to +Donaldson’s after calling at Seymour’s +to deliver the message for Milton.</p> + +<p>Clowes became quite animated at the +prospect of a real row.</p> + +<p>“We shall be able to see the +skeletons in their cupboards,” he observed.  +“Every man has a skeleton in his cupboard, which +follows him about wherever he goes.  Which study +shall we go to first?”</p> + +<p>“We?” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“We,” repeated Clowes +firmly.  “I am not going to be left out of +this jaunt.  I need bracing up—­I’m +not strong, you know—­and this is just the +thing to do it.  Besides, you’ll want a bodyguard +of some sort, in case the infuriated occupant turns +and rends you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what there +is to enjoy in the business,” said Trevor, gloomily.  +“Personally, I bar this kind of thing.  By +the time we’ve finished, there won’t be +a chap in the house I’m on speaking terms with.”</p> + +<p>“Except me, dearest,” +said Clowes.  “I will never desert you.  +It’s of no use asking me, for I will never do +it.  Mr Micawber has his faults, but I will <i>never</i> +desert Mr Micawber.”</p> + +<p>“You can come if you like,” +said Trevor; “we’ll take the studies in +order.  I suppose we needn’t look up the +prefects?”</p> + +<p>“A prefect is above suspicion.  Scratch +the prefects.”</p> + +<p>“That brings us to Dixon.”</p> + +<p>Dixon was a stout youth with spectacles, +who was popularly supposed to do twenty-two hours’ +work a day.  It was believed that he put in two +hours sleep from eleven to one, and then got up and +worked in his study till breakfast.</p> + +<p>He was working when Clowes and Trevor +came in.  He dived head foremost into a huge Liddell +and Scott as the door opened.  On hearing Trevor’s +voice he slowly emerged, and a pair of round and spectacled +eyes gazed blankly at the visitors.  Trevor briefly +explained his errand, but the interview lost in solemnity +owing to the fact that the bare notion of Dixon storing +tobacco in his room made Clowes roar with laughter.  +Also, Dixon stolidly refused to understand what Trevor +was talking about, and at the end of ten minutes, +finding it hopeless to try and explain, the two went.  +Dixon, with a hazy impression that he had been asked +to join in some sort of round game, and had refused +the offer, returned again to his Liddell and Scott, +and continued to wrestle with the somewhat obscure +utterances of the chorus in AEschylus’ <i>Agamemnon</i>.  +The results of this fiasco on Trevor and Clowes were +widely different.  Trevor it depressed horribly.  +It made him feel savage.  Clowes, on the other +hand, regarded the whole affair in a spirit of rollicking +farce, and refused to see that this was a serious +matter, in which the honour of the house was involved.</p> + +<p>The next study was Ruthven’s.  +This fact somewhat toned down the exuberances +of Clowes’s demeanour.  When one particularly +dislikes a person, one has a curious objection to +seeming in good spirits in his presence.  One +feels that he may take it as a sort of compliment to +himself, or, at any rate, contribute grins of his own, +which would be hateful.  Clowes was as grave as +Trevor when they entered the study.</p> + +<p>Ruthven’s study was like himself, +overdressed and rather futile.  It ran to little +china ornaments in a good deal of profusion.  It +was more like a drawing-room than a school study.</p> + +<p>“Sorry to disturb you, Ruthven,” said +Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Oh, come in,” said Ruthven, +in a tired voice.  “Please shut the door; +there is a draught.  Do you want anything?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to have a look round,” +said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you see everything there is?”</p> + +<p>Ruthven hated Clowes as much as Clowes hated him.</p> + +<p>Trevor cut into the conversation again.</p> + +<p>“It’s like this, Ruthven,” +he said.  “I’m awfully sorry, but the +Old Man’s just told me to search the studies +in case any of the fellows have got baccy.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven jumped up, pale with consternation.</p> + +<p>“You can’t.  I won’t have you +disturbing my study.”</p> + +<p>“This is rot,” said Trevor, +shortly, “I’ve got to.  It’s +no good making it more unpleasant for me than it is.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve no tobacco.  I swear I haven’t.”</p> + +<p>“Then why mind us searching?” said Clowes +affably.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Ruthven,” said +Trevor, “chuck us over the keys.  You might +as well.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be an ass, man.”</p> + +<p>“We have here,” observed +Clowes, in his sad, solemn way, “a stout and +serviceable poker.”  He stooped, as he spoke, +to pick it up.</p> + +<p>“Leave that poker alone,” cried Ruthven.</p> + +<p>Clowes straightened himself.</p> + +<p>“I’ll swop it for your keys,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a fool.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then.  We will now crack our +first crib.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven sprang forward, but Clowes, +handing him off in football fashion with his left +hand, with his right dashed the poker against the lock +of the drawer of the table by which he stood.</p> + +<p>The lock broke with a sharp crack.  +It was not built with an eye to such onslaught.</p> + +<p>“Neat for a first shot,” +said Clowes, complacently.  “Now for the +Umustaphas and shag.”</p> + +<p>But as he looked into the drawer he +uttered a sudden cry of excitement.  He drew something +out, and tossed it over to Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Catch, Trevor,” he said +quietly.  “Something that’ll interest +you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor caught it neatly in one hand, +and stood staring at it as if he had never seen anything +like it before.  And yet he had—­often.  +For what he had caught was a little golden bat, about +an inch long by an eighth of an inch wide.</p> + +<h2>XXI</h2> + +<h2>THE LEAGUE REVEALED</h2> + +<p>“What do you think of that?” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>Trevor said nothing.  He could +not quite grasp the situation.  It was not only +that he had got the idea so firmly into his head that +it was Rand-Brown who had sent the letters and appropriated +the bat.  Even supposing he had not suspected +Rand-Brown, he would never have dreamed of suspecting +Ruthven.  They had been friends.  Not very +close friends—­Trevor’s keenness for +games and Ruthven’s dislike of them prevented +that—­but a good deal more than acquaintances.  +He was so constituted that he could not grasp the +frame of mind required for such an action as Ruthven’s.  +It was something absolutely abnormal.</p> + +<p>Clowes was equally surprised, but +for a different reason.  It was not so much the +enormity of Ruthven’s proceedings that took him +aback.  He believed him, with that cheerful intolerance +which a certain type of mind affects, capable of anything.  +What surprised him was the fact that Ruthven had had +the ingenuity and even the daring to conduct a campaign +of this description.  Cribbing in examinations +he would have thought the limit of his crimes.  +Something backboneless and underhand of that kind +would not have surprised him in the least.  He +would have said that it was just about what he had +expected all along.  But that Ruthven should blossom +out suddenly as quite an ingenious and capable criminal +in this way, was a complete surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps <i>you</i>’ll +make a remark?” he said, turning to Ruthven.</p> + +<p>Ruthven, looking very much like a +passenger on a Channel steamer who has just discovered +that the motion of the vessel is affecting him unpleasantly, +had fallen into a chair when Clowes handed him off.  +He sat there with a look on his pasty face which was +not good to see, as silent as Trevor.  It seemed +that whatever conversation there was going to be would +have to take the form of a soliloquy from Clowes.</p> + +<p>Clowes took a seat on the corner of the table.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me, Ruthven,” +he said, “that you’d better say <i>something</i>.  +At present there’s a lot that wants explaining.  +As this bat has been found lying in your drawer, I +suppose we may take it that you’re the impolite +letter-writer?”</p> + +<p>Ruthven found his voice at last.</p> + +<p>“I’m not,” he cried; “I never +wrote a line.”</p> + +<p>“Now we’re getting at +it,” said Clowes.  “I thought you couldn’t +have had it in you to carry this business through +on your own.  Apparently you’ve only been +the sleeping partner in this show, though I suppose +it was you who ragged Trevor’s study?  Not +much sleeping about that.  You took over the acting +branch of the concern for that day only, I expect.  +Was it you who ragged the study?”</p> + +<p>Ruthven stared into the fire, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Must be polite, you know, Ruthven, +and answer when you’re spoken to.  Was it +you who ragged Trevor’s study?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Thought so.”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course, I met you just +outside,” said Trevor, speaking for the first +time.  “You were the chap who told me what +had happened.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven said nothing.</p> + +<p>“The ragging of the study seems +to have been all the active work he did,” remarked +Clowes.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Trevor, “he +posted the letters, whether he wrote them or not.  +Milton was telling me—­you remember?  +I told you.  No, I didn’t.  Milton found +out that the letters were posted by a small, light-haired +fellow.”</p> + +<p>“That’s him,” said +Clowes, as regardless of grammar as the monks of Rheims, +pointing with the poker at Ruthven’s immaculate +locks.  “Well, you ragged the study and +posted the letters.  That was all your share.  +Am I right in thinking Rand-Brown was the other partner?”</p> + +<p>Silence from Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Am I?” persisted Clowes.</p> + +<p>“You may think what you like.  I don’t +care.”</p> + +<p>“Now we’re getting rude +again,” complained Clowes. “<i>Was</i> +Rand-Brown in this?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Ruthven.</p> + +<p>“Thought so.  And who else?”</p> + +<p>“No one.”</p> + +<p>“Try again.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you there was no one +else.  Can’t you believe a word a chap says?”</p> + +<p>“A word here and there, perhaps,” +said Clowes, as one making a concession, “but +not many, and this isn’t one of them.  Have +another shot.”</p> + +<p>Ruthven relapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>“All right, then,” said +Clowes, “we’ll accept that statement.  +There’s just a chance that it may be true.  +And that’s about all, I think.  This isn’t +my affair at all, really.  It’s yours, Trevor.  +I’m only a spectator and camp-follower.  +It’s your business.  You’ll find me +in my study.”  And putting the poker carefully +in its place, Clowes left the room.  He went into +his study, and tried to begin some work.  But the +beauties of the second book of Thucydides failed to +appeal to him.  His mind was elsewhere.  He +felt too excited with what had just happened to translate +Greek.  He pulled up a chair in front of the fire, +and gave himself up to speculating how Trevor was +getting on in the neighbouring study.  He was +glad he had left him to finish the business.  If +he had been in Trevor’s place, there was nothing +he would so greatly have disliked as to have some +one—­however familiar a friend—­interfering +in his wars and settling them for him.  Left to +himself, Clowes would probably have ended the interview +by kicking Ruthven into the nearest approach to pulp +compatible with the laws relating to manslaughter.  +He had an uneasy suspicion that Trevor would let him +down far too easily.</p> + +<p>The handle turned.  Trevor came +in, and pulled up another chair in silence.  His +face wore a look of disgust.  But there were no +signs of combat upon him.  The toe of his boot +was not worn and battered, as Clowes would have liked +to have seen it.  Evidently he had not chosen to +adopt active and physical measures for the improvement +of Ruthven’s moral well-being.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>“My word, what a hound!” breathed Trevor, +half to himself.</p> + +<p>“My sentiments to a hair,” +said Clowes, approvingly.  “But what have +you done?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t do anything.”</p> + +<p>“I was afraid you wouldn’t.  +Did he give any explanation?  What made him go +in for the thing at all?  What earthly motive could +he have for not wanting Barry to get his colours, +bar the fact that Rand-Brown didn’t want him +to?  And why should he do what Rand-Brown told +him?  I never even knew they were pals, before +today.”</p> + +<p>“He told me a good deal,” +said Trevor.  “It’s one of the beastliest +things I ever heard.  They neither of them come +particularly well out of the business, but Rand-Brown +comes worse out of it even than Ruthven.  My word, +that man wants killing.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll keep,” said Clowes, nodding.  +“What’s the yarn?”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember about a year +ago a chap named Patterson getting sacked?”</p> + +<p>Clowes nodded again.  He remembered +the case well.  Patterson had had gambling transactions +with a Wrykyn tradesman, had been found out, and had +gone.</p> + +<p>“You remember what a surprise +it was to everybody.  It wasn’t one of those +cases where half the school suspects what’s going +on.  Those cases always come out sooner or later.  +But Patterson nobody knew about.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Well?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody,” said Trevor, +“except Ruthven, that is.  Ruthven got to +know somehow.  I believe he was a bit of a pal +of Patterson’s at the time.  Anyhow,—­they +had a row, and Ruthven went to Dexter—­Patterson +was in Dexter’s—­and sneaked.  +Dexter promised to keep his name out of the business, +and went straight to the Old Man, and Patterson got +turfed out on the spot.  Then somehow or other +Rand-Brown got to know about it—­I believe +Ruthven must have told him by accident some time or +other.  After that he simply had to do everything +Rand-Brown wanted him to.  Otherwise he said that +he would tell the chaps about the Patterson affair.  +That put Ruthven in a dead funk.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Clowes; +“I should imagine friend Ruthven would have +got rather a bad time of it.  But what made them +think of starting the League?  It was a jolly +smart idea.  Rand-Brown’s, of course?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  I suppose he’d +heard about it, and thought something might be made +out of it if it were revived.”</p> + +<p>“And were Ruthven and he the only two in it?”</p> + +<p>“Ruthven swears they were, and +I shouldn’t wonder if he wasn’t telling +the truth, for once in his life.  You see, everything +the League’s done so far could have been done +by him and Rand-Brown, without anybody else’s +help.  The only other studies that were ragged +were Mill’s and Milton’s—­both +in Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>There was a pause.  Clowes put another shovelful +of coal on the fire.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do to Ruthven?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing?  Hang it, he doesn’t +deserve to get off like that.  He isn’t as +bad as Rand-Brown—­quite—­but he’s +pretty nearly as finished a little beast as you could +find.”</p> + +<p>“Finished is just the word,” +said Trevor.  “He’s going at the end +of the week.”</p> + +<p>“Going?  What! sacked?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  The Old Man’s +been finding out things about him, apparently, and +this smoking row has just added the finishing-touch +to his discoveries.  He’s particularly keen +against smoking just now for some reason.”</p> + +<p>“But was Ruthven in it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  Didn’t I tell +you?  He was one of the fellows Dexter caught in +the vault.  There were two in this house, you +remember?”</p> + +<p>“Who was the other?”</p> + +<p>“That man Dashwood.  Has +the study next to Paget’s old one.  He’s +going, too.”</p> + +<p>“Scarcely knew him.  What sort of a chap +was he?”</p> + +<p>“Outsider.  No good to the house in any +way.  He won’t be missed.”</p> + +<p>“And what are you going to do about Rand-Brown?”</p> + +<p>“Fight him, of course.  What else could +I do?”</p> + +<p>“But you’re no match for him.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see.”</p> + +<p>“But you <i>aren’t</i>,” +persisted Clowes.  “He can give you a stone +easily, and he’s not a bad boxer either.  +Moriarty didn’t beat him so very cheaply in +the middle-weight this year.  You wouldn’t +have a chance.”</p> + +<p>Trevor flared up.</p> + +<p>“Heavens, man,” he cried, +“do you think I don’t know all that myself?  +But what on earth would you have me do?  Besides, +he may be a good boxer, but he’s got no pluck +at all.  I might outstay him.”</p> + +<p>“Hope so,” said Clowes.</p> + +<p>But his tone was not hopeful.</p> + +<h2>XXII</h2> + +<h2>A DRESS REHEARSAL</h2> + +<p>Some people in Trevor’s place +might have taken the earliest opportunity of confronting +Rand-Brown, so as to settle the matter in hand without +delay.  Trevor thought of doing this, but finally +decided to let the matter rest for a day, until he +should have found out with some accuracy what chance +he stood.</p> + +<p>After four o’clock, therefore, +on the next day, having had tea in his study, he went +across to the baths, in search of O’Hara.  +He intended that before the evening was over the Irishman +should have imparted to him some of his skill with +the hands.  He did not know that for a man absolutely +unscientific with his fists there is nothing so fatal +as to take a boxing lesson on the eve of battle.  +A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.  He is +apt to lose his recklessness—­which might +have stood by him well—­in exchange for +a little quite useless science.  He is neither +one thing nor the other, neither a natural fighter +nor a skilful boxer.</p> + +<p>This point O’Hara endeavoured +to press upon him as soon as he had explained why +it was that he wanted coaching on this particular +afternoon.</p> + +<p>The Irishman was in the gymnasium, +punching the ball, when Trevor found him.  He +generally put in a quarter of an hour with the punching-ball +every evening, before Moriarty turned up for the customary +six rounds.</p> + +<p>“Want me to teach ye a few tricks?” +he said.  “What’s that for?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got a mill coming +on soon,” explained Trevor, trying to make the +statement as if it were the most ordinary thing in +the world for a school prefect, who was also captain +of football, head of a house, and in the cricket eleven, +to be engaged for a fight in the near future.</p> + +<p>“Mill!” exclaimed O’Hara.  “You!  +An’ why?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind why,” said +Trevor.  “I’ll tell you afterwards, +perhaps.  Shall I put on the gloves now?”</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said O’Hara, +“I must do my quarter of an hour with the ball +before I begin teaching other people how to box.  +Have ye a watch?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then time me.  I’ll +do four rounds of three minutes each, with a minute’s +rest in between.  That’s more than I’ll +do at Aldershot, but it’ll get me fit.  +Ready?”</p> + +<p>“Time,” said Trevor.</p> + +<p>He watched O’Hara assailing +the swinging ball with considerable envy.  Why, +he wondered, had he not gone in for boxing?  Everybody +ought to learn to box.  It was bound to come in +useful some time or other.  Take his own case.  +He was very much afraid—­no, afraid was not +the right word, for he was not that.  He was very +much of opinion that Rand-Brown was going to have +a most enjoyable time when they met.  And the final +house-match was to be played next Monday.  If events +turned out as he could not help feeling they were +likely to turn out, he would be too battered to play +in that match.  Donaldson’s would probably +win whether he played or not, but it would be bitter +to be laid up on such an occasion.  On the other +hand, he must go through with it.  He did not +believe in letting other people take a hand in settling +his private quarrels.</p> + +<p>But he wished he had learned to box.  +If only he could hit that dancing, jumping ball with +a fifth of the skill that O’Hara was displaying, +his wiriness and pluck might see him through.  +O’Hara finished his fourth round with his leathern +opponent, and sat down, panting.</p> + +<p>“Pretty useful, that,” commented Trevor, +admiringly.</p> + +<p>“Ye should see Moriarty,” gasped O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“Now, will ye tell me why it +is you’re going to fight, and with whom you’re +going to fight?”</p> + +<p>“Very well.  It’s with Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown!” exclaimed O’Hara.  +“But, me dearr man, he’ll ate you.”</p> + +<p>Trevor gave a rather annoyed laugh.  +“I must say I’ve got a nice, cheery, comforting +lot of friends,” he said.  “That’s +just what Clowes has been trying to explain to me.”</p> + +<p>“Clowes is quite right,” +said O’Hara, seriously.  “Has the thing +gone too far for ye to back out?  Without climbing +down, of course,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Trevor, “there’s +no question of my getting out of it.  I daresay +I could.  In fact, I know I could.  But I’m +not going to.”</p> + +<p>“But, me dearr man, ye haven’t +an earthly chance.  I assure ye ye haven’t.  +I’ve seen Rand-Brown with the gloves on.  +That was last term.  He’s not put them on +since Moriarty bate him in the middles, so he may +be out of practice.  But even then he’d be +a bad man to tackle.  He’s big an’ +he’s strong, an’ if he’d only had +the heart in him he’d have been going up to +Aldershot instead of Moriarty.  That’s what +he’d be doing.  An’ you can’t +box at all.  Never even had the gloves on.”</p> + +<p>“Never.  I used to scrap when I was a kid, +though.”</p> + +<p>“That’s no use,” +said O’Hara, decidedly.  “But you haven’t +said what it is that ye’ve got against Rand-Brown.  +What is it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why I shouldn’t +tell you.  You’re in it as well.  In +fact, if it hadn’t been for the bat turning +up, you’d have been considerably more in it +than I am.”</p> + +<p>“What!” cried O’Hara.  +“Where did you find it?  Was it in the grounds?  +When was it you found it?”</p> + +<p>Whereupon Trevor gave him a very full +and exact account of what had happened.  He showed +him the two letters from the League, touched on Milton’s +connection with the affair, traced the gradual development +of his suspicions, and described with some approach +to excitement the scene in Ruthven’s study, +and the explanations that had followed it.</p> + +<p>“Now do you wonder,” he +concluded, “that I feel as if a few rounds with +Rand-Brown would do me good.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara breathed hard.</p> + +<p>“My word!” he said, “I’d like +to see ye kill him.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Trevor, “as +you and Clowes have been pointing out to me, if there’s +going to be a corpse, it’ll be me.  However, +I mean to try.  Now perhaps you wouldn’t +mind showing me a few tricks.”</p> + +<p>“Take my advice,” said O’Hara, “and +don’t try any of that foolery.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought you were such +a believer in science,” said Trevor in surprise.</p> + +<p>“So I am, if you’ve enough +of it.  But it’s the worst thing ye can do +to learn a trick or two just before a fight, if you +don’t know anything about the game already.  +A tough, rushing fighter is ten times as good as a +man who’s just begun to learn what he oughtn’t +to do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you advise me +to do, then?” asked Trevor, impressed by the +unwonted earnestness with which the Irishman delivered +this pugilistic homily, which was a paraphrase of +the views dinned into the ears of every novice by +the school instructor.</p> + +<p>“I must do something.”</p> + +<p>“The best thing ye can do,” +said O’Hara, thinking for a moment, “is +to put on the gloves and have a round or two with +me.  Here’s Moriarty at last.  We’ll +get him to time us.”</p> + +<p>As much explanation as was thought +good for him having been given to the newcomer, to +account for Trevor’s newly-acquired taste for +things pugilistic, Moriarty took the watch, with instructions +to give them two minutes for the first round.</p> + +<p>“Go as hard as you can,” +said O’Hara to Trevor, as they faced one another, +“and hit as hard as you like.  It won’t +be any practice if you don’t.  I sha’n’t +mind being hit.  It’ll do me good for Aldershot.  +See?”</p> + +<p>Trevor said he saw.</p> + +<p>“Time,” said Moriarty.</p> + +<p>Trevor went in with a will.  He +was a little shy at first of putting all his weight +into his blows.  It was hard to forget that he +felt friendly towards O’Hara.  But he speedily +awoke to the fact that the Irishman took his boxing +very seriously, and was quite a different person when +he had the gloves on.  When he was so equipped, +the man opposite him ceased to be either friend or +foe in a private way.  He was simply an opponent, +and every time he hit him was one point.  And, +when he entered the ring, his only object in life +for the next three minutes was to score points.  +Consequently Trevor, sparring lightly and in rather +a futile manner at first, was woken up by a stinging +flush hit between the eyes.  After that he, too, +forgot that he liked the man before him, and rushed +him in all directions.  There was no doubt as to +who would have won if it had been a competition.  +Trevor’s guard was of the most rudimentary order, +and O’Hara got through when and how he liked.  +But though he took a good deal, he also gave a good +deal, and O’Hara confessed himself not altogether +sorry when Moriarty called “Time”.</p> + +<p>“Man,” he said regretfully, +“why ever did ye not take up boxing before?  +Ye’d have made a splendid middle-weight.”</p> + +<p>“Well, have I a chance, do you think?” +inquired Trevor.</p> + +<p>“Ye might do it with luck,” +said O’Hara, very doubtfully.  “But,” +he added, “I’m afraid ye’ve not +much chance.”</p> + +<p>And with this poor encouragement from +his trainer and sparring-partner, Trevor was forced +to be content.</p> + +<h2>XXIII</h2> + +<h2>WHAT RENFORD SAW</h2> + +<p>The health of Master Harvey of Seymour’s +was so delicately constituted that it was an absolute +necessity that he should consume one or more hot buns +during the quarter of an hour’s interval which +split up morning school.  He was tearing across +the junior gravel towards the shop on the morning +following Trevor’s sparring practice with O’Hara, +when a melodious treble voice called his name.  +It was Renford.  He stopped, to allow his friend +to come up with him, and then made as if to resume +his way to the shop.  But Renford proposed an amendment.  +“Don’t go to the shop,” he said, +“I want to talk.”</p> + +<p>“Well, can’t you talk in the shop?”</p> + +<p>“Not what I want to tell you.  It’s +private.  Come for a stroll.”</p> + +<p>Harvey hesitated.  There were +few things he enjoyed so much as exclusive items of +school gossip (scandal preferably), but hot new buns +were among those few things.  However, he decided +on this occasion to feed the mind at the expense of +the body.  He accepted Renford’s invitation.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he asked, +as they made for the football field.  “What’s +been happening?”</p> + +<p>“It’s frightfully exciting,” said +Renford.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?”</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t tell any one.”</p> + +<p>“All right.  Of course not.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, there’s been +a big fight, and I’m one of the only chaps who +know about it so far.”</p> + +<p>“A fight?” Harvey became excited.  +“Who between?”</p> + +<p>Renford paused before delivering his +news, to emphasise the importance of it.</p> + +<p>“It was between O’Hara and Rand-Brown,” +he said at length.</p> + +<p>“<i>By Jove!</i>” said +Harvey.  Then a suspicion crept into his mind.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Renford,” he said, “if +you’re trying to green me—­”</p> + +<p>“I’m not, you ass,” +replied Renford indignantly.  “It’s +perfectly true.  I saw it myself.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, did you really?  +Where was it?  When did it come off?  Was it +a good one?  Who won?”</p> + +<p>“It was the best one I’ve ever seen.”</p> + +<p>“Did O’Hara beat him?  I hope he did.  +O’Hara’s a jolly good sort.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.  They had six rounds.  +Rand-Brown got knocked out in the middle of the sixth.”</p> + +<p>“What, do you mean really knocked out, or did +he just chuck it?”</p> + +<p>“No.  He was really knocked +out.  He was on the floor for quite a time.  +By Jove, you should have seen it.  O’Hara +was ripping in the sixth round.  He was all over +him.”</p> + +<p>“Tell us about it,” said Harvey, and Renford +told.</p> + +<p>“I’d got up early,” +he said, “to feed the ferrets, and I was just +cutting over to the fives-courts with their grub, when, +just as I got across the senior gravel, I saw O’Hara +and Moriarty standing waiting near the second court.  +O’Hara knows all about the ferrets, so I didn’t +try and cut or anything.  I went up and began talking +to him.  I noticed he didn’t look particularly +keen on seeing me at first.  I asked him if he +was going to play fives.  Then he said no, and +told me what he’d really come for.  He said +he and Rand-Brown had had a row, and they’d +agreed to have it out that morning in one of the fives-courts.  +Of course, when I heard that, I was all on to see +it, so I said I’d wait, if he didn’t mind.  +He said he didn’t care, so long as I didn’t +tell everybody, so I said I wouldn’t tell anybody +except you, so he said all right, then, I could stop +if I wanted to.  So that was how I saw it.  +Well, after we’d been waiting a few minutes, +Rand-Brown came in sight, with that beast Merrett +in our house, who’d come to second him.  +It was just like one of those duels you read about, +you know.  Then O’Hara said that as I was +the only one there with a watch—­he and Rand-Brown +were in footer clothes, and Merrett and Moriarty hadn’t +got their tickers on them—­I’d better +act as timekeeper.  So I said all right, I would, +and we went to the second fives-court.  It’s +the biggest of them, you know.  I stood outside +on the bench, looking through the wire netting over +the door, so as not to be in the way when they started +scrapping.  O’Hara and Rand-Brown took off +their blazers and sweaters, and chucked them to Moriarty +and Merrett, and then Moriarty and Merrett went and +stood in two corners, and O’Hara and Rand-Brown +walked into the middle and stood up to one another.  +Rand-Brown was miles the heaviest—­by a stone, +I should think—­and he was taller and had +a longer reach.  But O’Hara looked much +fitter.  Rand-Brown looked rather flabby.</p> + +<p>“I sang out ‘Time’ +through the wire netting, and they started off at +once.  O’Hara offered to shake hands, but +Rand-Brown wouldn’t.  So they began without +it.</p> + +<p>“The first round was awfully +fast.  They kept having long rallies all over +the place.  O’Hara was a jolly sight quicker, +and Rand-Brown didn’t seem able to guard his +hits at all.  But he hit frightfully hard himself, +great, heavy slogs, and O’Hara kept getting them +in the face.  At last he got one bang in the mouth +which knocked him down flat.  He was up again +in a second, and was starting to rush, when I looked +at the watch, and found that I’d given them +nearly half a minute too much already.  So I shouted +‘Time’, and made up my mind I’d keep +more of an eye on the watch next round.  I’d +got so jolly excited, watching them, that I’d +forgot I was supposed to be keeping time for them.  +They had only asked for a minute between the rounds, +but as I’d given them half a minute too long +in the first round, I chucked in a bit extra in the +rest, so that they were both pretty fit by the time +I started them again.</p> + +<p>“The second round was just like +the first, and so was the third.  O’Hara +kept getting the worst of it.  He was knocked down +three or four times more, and once, when he’d +rushed Rand-Brown against one of the walls, he hit +out and missed, and barked his knuckles jolly badly +against the wall.  That was in the middle of the +third round, and Rand-Brown had it all his own way +for the rest of the round—­for about two +minutes, that is to say.  He hit O’Hara +about all over the shop.  I was so jolly keen +on O’Hara’s winning, that I had half a +mind to call time early, so as to give him time to +recover.  But I thought it would be a low thing +to do, so I gave them their full three minutes.</p> + +<p>“Directly they began the fourth +round, I noticed that things were going to change +a bit.  O’Hara had given up his rushing game, +and was waiting for his man, and when he came at him +he’d put in a hot counter, nearly always at +the body.  After a bit Rand-Brown began to get +cautious, and wouldn’t rush, so the fourth round +was the quietest there had been.  In the last +minute they didn’t hit each other at all.  +They simply sparred for openings.  It was in the +fifth round that O’Hara began to forge ahead.  +About half way through he got in a ripper, right in +the wind, which almost doubled Rand-Brown up, and +then he started rushing again.  Rand-Brown looked +awfully bad at the end of the round.  Round six +was ripping.  I never saw two chaps go for each +other so.  It was one long rally.  Then—­how +it happened I couldn’t see, they were so quick—­just +as they had been at it a minute and a half, there was +a crack, and the next thing I saw was Rand-Brown on +the ground, looking beastly.  He went down absolutely +flat; his heels and head touched the ground at the +same time.</p> + +<p>“I counted ten out loud in the +professional way like they do at the National Sporting +Club, you know, and then said ‘O’Hara wins’.  +I felt an awful swell.  After about another half-minute, +Rand-Brown was all right again, and he got up and +went back to the house with Merrett, and O’Hara +and Moriarty went off to Dexter’s, and I gave +the ferrets their grub, and cut back to breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“Rand-Brown wasn’t at breakfast,” +said Harvey.</p> + +<p>“No.  He went to bed.  +I wonder what’ll happen.  Think there’ll +be a row about it?”</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t think so,” +said Harvey.  “They never do make rows about +fights, and neither of them is a prefect, so I don’t +see what it matters if they <i>do</i> fight.  +But, I say—­”</p> + +<p>“What’s up?”</p> + +<p>“I wish,” said Harvey, +his voice full of acute regret, “that it had +been my turn to feed those ferrets.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said +Renford cheerfully.  “I wouldn’t have +missed that mill for something.  Hullo, there’s +the bell.  We’d better run.”</p> + +<p>When Trevor called at Seymour’s +that afternoon to see Rand-Brown, with a view to challenging +him to deadly combat, and found that O’Hara had +been before him, he ought to have felt relieved.  +His actual feeling was one of acute annoyance.  +It seemed to him that O’Hara had exceeded the +limits of friendship.  It was all very well for +him to take over the Rand-Brown contract, and settle +it himself, in order to save Trevor from a very bad +quarter of an hour, but Trevor was one of those people +who object strongly to the interference of other people +in their private business.  He sought out O’Hara +and complained.  Within two minutes O’Hara’s +golden eloquence had soothed him and made him view +the matter in quite a different light.  What O’Hara +pointed out was that it was not Trevor’s affair +at all, but his own.  Who, he asked, had been +likely to be damaged most by Rand-Brown’s manoeuvres +in connection with the lost bat?  Trevor was bound +to admit that O’Hara was that person.  Very +well, then, said O’Hara, then who had a better +right to fight Rand-Brown?  And Trevor confessed +that no one else had a better.</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose,” he said, +“that I shall have to do nothing about it?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” said O’Hara.</p> + +<p>“It’ll be rather beastly +meeting the man after this,” said Trevor, presently.  +“Do you think he might possibly leave at the +end of term?”</p> + +<p>“He’s leaving at the end +of the week,” said O’Hara.  “He +was one of the fellows Dexter caught in the vault +that evening.  You won’t see much more of +Rand-Brown.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try and put up with that,” +said Trevor.</p> + +<p>“And so will I,” replied +O’Hara.  “And I shouldn’t think +Milton would be so very grieved.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Trevor.  +“I tell you what will make him sick, though, +and that is your having milled with Rand-Brown.  +It’s a job he’d have liked to have taken +on himself.”</p> + +<h2>XXIV</h2> + +<h2>CONCLUSION</h2> + +<p>Into the story at this point comes +the narrative of Charles Mereweather Cook, aged fourteen, +a day-boy.</p> + +<p>Cook arrived at the school on the +tenth of March, at precisely nine o’clock, in +a state of excitement.</p> + +<p>He said there was a row on in the town.</p> + +<p>Cross-examined, he said there was no end of a row +on in the town.</p> + +<p>During morning school he explained +further, whispering his tale into the attentive ear +of Knight of the School House, who sat next to him.</p> + +<p>What sort of a row, Knight wanted to know.</p> + +<p>Cook deposed that he had been riding +on his bicycle past the entrance to the Recreation +Grounds on his way to school, when his eye was attracted +by the movements of a mass of men just inside the gate.  +They appeared to be fighting.  Witness did not +stop to watch, much as he would have liked to do so.  +Why not?  Why, because he was late already, and +would have had to scorch anyhow, in order to get to +school in time.  And he had been late the day +before, and was afraid that old Appleby (the master +of the form) would give him beans if he were late again.  +Wherefore he had no notion of what the men were fighting +about, but he betted that more would be heard about +it.  Why?  Because, from what he saw of it, +it seemed a jolly big thing.  There must have been +quite three hundred men fighting. (Knight, satirically, +“<i>Pile</i> it on!”) Well, quite a hundred, +anyhow.  Fifty a side.  And fighting like +anything.  He betted there would be something about +it in the <i>Wrykyn Patriot</i> tomorrow.  +He shouldn’t wonder if somebody had been killed.  +What were they scrapping about?  How should <i>he</i> +know!</p> + +<p>Here Mr Appleby, who had been trying +for the last five minutes to find out where the whispering +noise came from, at length traced it to its source, +and forthwith requested Messrs Cook and Knight to do +him two hundred lines, adding that, if he heard them +talking again, he would put them into the extra lesson.  +Silence reigned from that moment.</p> + +<p>Next day, while the form was wrestling +with the moderately exciting account of Caesar’s +doings in Gaul, Master Cook produced from his pocket +a newspaper cutting.  This, having previously planted +a forcible blow in his friend’s ribs with an +elbow to attract the latter’s attention, he +handed to Knight, and in dumb show requested him to +peruse the same.  Which Knight, feeling no interest +whatever in Caesar’s doings in Gaul, and having, +in consequence, a good deal of time on his hands, +proceeded to do.  The cutting was headed “Disgraceful +Fracas”, and was written in the elegant style +that was always so marked a feature of the <i>Wrykyn +Patriot</i>.</p> + +<p>“We are sorry to have to report,” +it ran, “another of those deplorable ebullitions +of local Hooliganism, to which it has before now been +our painful duty to refer.  Yesterday the Recreation +Grounds were made the scene of as brutal an exhibition +of savagery as has ever marred the fair fame of this +town.  Our readers will remember how on a previous +occasion, when the fine statue of Sir Eustace Briggs +was found covered with tar, we attributed the act +to the malevolence of the Radical section of the community.  +Events have proved that we were right.  Yesterday +a body of youths, belonging to the rival party, was +discovered in the very act of repeating the offence.  +A thick coating of tar had already been administered, +when several members of the rival faction appeared.  +A free fight of a peculiarly violent nature immediately +ensued, with the result that, before the police could +interfere, several of the combatants had received severe +bruises.  Fortunately the police then arrived +on the scene, and with great difficulty succeeded +in putting a stop to the <i>fracas</i>.  Several +arrests were made.</p> + +<p>“We have no desire to discourage +legitimate party rivalry, but we feel justified in +strongly protesting against such dastardly tricks as +those to which we have referred.  We can assure +our opponents that they can gain nothing by such conduct.”</p> + +<p>There was a good deal more to the +effect that now was the time for all good men to come +to the aid of the party, and that the constituents +of Sir Eustace Briggs must look to it that they failed +not in the hour of need, and so on.  That was +what the <i>Wrykyn Patriot</i> had to say on the subject.</p> + +<p>O’Hara managed to get hold of +a copy of the paper, and showed it to Clowes and Trevor.</p> + +<p>“So now,” he said, “it’s +all right, ye see.  They’ll never suspect +it wasn’t the same people that tarred the statue +both times.  An’ ye’ve got the bat +back, so it’s all right, ye see.”</p> + +<p>“The only thing that’ll +trouble you now,” said Clowes, “will be +your conscience.”</p> + +<p>O’Hara intimated that he would try and put up +with that.</p> + +<p>“But isn’t it a stroke +of luck,” he said, “that they should have +gone and tarred Sir Eustace again so soon after Moriarty +and I did it?”</p> + +<p>Clowes said gravely that it only showed +the force of good example.</p> + +<p>“Yes.  They wouldn’t +have thought of it, if it hadn’t been for us,” +chortled O’Hara.  “I wonder, now, if +there’s anything else we could do to that statue!” +he added, meditatively.</p> + +<p>“My good lunatic,” said +Clowes, “don’t you think you’ve done +almost enough for one term?”</p> + +<p>“Well, ’<i>myes</i>,” +replied O’Hara thoughtfully, “perhaps we +have, I suppose.”</p> + +<pre> + + * * * * * + +</pre> + +<p>The term wore on.  Donaldson’s +won the final house-match by a matter of twenty-six +points.  It was, as they had expected, one of the +easiest games they had had to play in the competition.  +Bryant’s, who were their opponents, were not +strong, and had only managed to get into the final +owing to their luck in drawing weak opponents for the +trial heats.  The real final, that had decided +the ownership of the cup, had been Donaldson’s +<i>v.</i> Seymour’s.</p> + +<p>Aldershot arrived, and the sports.  +Drummond and O’Hara covered themselves with +glory, and brought home silver medals.  But Moriarty, +to the disappointment of the school, which had counted +on his pulling off the middles, met a strenuous gentleman +from St Paul’s in the final, and was prematurely +outed in the first minute of the third round.  +To him, therefore, there fell but a medal of bronze.</p> + +<p>It was on the Sunday after the sports +that Trevor’s connection with the bat ceased—­as +far, that is to say, as concerned its unpleasant character +(as a piece of evidence that might be used to his +disadvantage).  He had gone to supper with the +headmaster, accompanied by Clowes and Milton.  +The headmaster nearly always invited a few of the +house prefects to Sunday supper during the term.  +Sir Eustace Briggs happened to be there.  He had +withdrawn his insinuations concerning the part supposedly +played by a member of the school in the matter of the +tarred statue, and the headmaster had sealed the <i>entente +cordiale</i> by asking him to supper.</p> + +<p>An ordinary man might have considered +it best to keep off the delicate subject.  Not +so Sir Eustace Briggs.  He was on to it like glue.  +He talked of little else throughout the whole course +of the meal.</p> + +<p>“My suspicions,” he boomed, +towards the conclusion of the feast, “which +have, I am rejoiced to say, proved so entirely void +of foundation and significance, were aroused in the +first instance, as I mentioned before, by the narrative +of the man Samuel Wapshott.”</p> + +<p>Nobody present showed the slightest +desire to learn what the man Samuel Wapshott had had +to say for himself, but Sir Eustace, undismayed, continued +as if the whole table were hanging on his words.</p> + +<p>“The man Samuel Wapshott,” +he said, “distinctly asserted that a small gold +ornament, shaped like a bat, was handed by him to a +lad of age coeval with these lads here.”</p> + +<p>The headmaster interposed.  He +had evidently heard more than enough of the man Samuel +Wapshott.</p> + +<p>“He must have been mistaken,” +he said briefly.  “The bat which Trevor is +wearing on his watch-chain at this moment is the only +one of its kind that I know of.  You have never +lost it, Trevor?”</p> + +<p>Trevor thought for a moment. <i>He</i> +had never lost it.  He replied diplomatically, +“It has been in a drawer nearly all the term, +sir,” he said.</p> + +<p>“A drawer, hey?” remarked +Sir Eustace Briggs.  “Ah!  A very sensible +place to keep it in, my boy.  You could have no +better place, in my opinion.”</p> + +<p>And Trevor agreed with him, with the +mental reservation that it rather depended on whom +the drawer belonged to.</p> + +<pre> + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bat, by P. 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