"Yours, truly,

"T.F."

"Oh, the cad!" was the joint exclamation of the two readers as they perused this treacherous epistle.

"Look alive, now," said Arthur; "cut down as fast as ever you can and fetch one of those turfs lying on the corner of the grass, you know."

"What's that for?" asked Dig, who felt quite out of the running.

"Never mind. Cut away; there's no time to lose. Don't let anyone see you."

Dig obeyed, and selected one of the turfs in question, which he clandestinely conveyed up to his room.

"Now lend a hand to wrap it up," said Arthur. "Don't you see it'll make a parcel just about the size and weight of the sack? Mind how you tie it up—a double knot, not a bow."

Dig began to perceive what the sport was at last, and grinned complacently as he tied up the new parcel into an exact counterfeit of the old.

Arthur overhauled it critically, and pronounced it all right. "Now," said he, "we'll write him a letter."

He sat down and dashed off the following, Dig nudging vehement approval of the contents from behind.

"Sir,—I'm a cad and a liar and a thief. Don't believe a word I say. You can tell anyone you like. Most of them know already. Yours truly,

"Jerry Sneak."

"That's ripping!" exclaimed the admiring Dig, as this elegant epistle was carefully folded into the original envelope, and, after being gummed down, was thrust under the string of the counterfeit parcel. "Oh, I wish I could be there to see it opened!"

"We may get into a row for it," said Arthur. "I don't care. It'll show him up and be a real leg-up for Marky. Look alive now, and come and put it back in his room."

So they sallied up once more and carefully replaced the parcel exactly where they had found it, and then, rejoicing exceedingly, dodged down again. It seemed to them a politic thing just to look in at the Forum on their way down, to witness the end of the debate and take part in the division. They had not the slightest idea what the debate was about, but they made themselves prominent among the "Ays," and cheered loudly when the motion was declared to be carried by two votes.

Felgate nodded to them as he passed out, little guessing the real meaning of the affectionate smile with which they returned the greeting.

"So your cold's better, youngster?" said he to Arthur.

"Looks like it," replied Arthur.

Felgate's first glance as he entered the room was towards the corner in which he had left his parcel.

He had just been cording it up that evening when he suddenly remembered his engagement at the Forum, and in the hurry of the discovery he had carelessly left it out, instead of, as he had intended, locking it up.

"However," thought he to himself, "it's all safe as it happens. I won't send it over to Bickers till to-morrow afternoon, just before the master's session. It will be far more effective if he opens it in the brute's presence; and, after all, I don't care a twopenny-piece if he knows it comes from me or not—the cad!"

He had half a mind to open the letter and tell Mr Bickers to mention his name if he chose; but just as he was about to do so Hunger came in to see him. So he abandoned the idea and locked the parcel up safely in his drawer.

Felgate had, as the reader may have judged, come to the conclusion that it was time to play his trump card against his enemy. Railsford's reporting of him to the doctor had been, to mix metaphors a little, the last straw which breaks the patient camel's back.

He had had a very warm and uncomfortable quarter of an hour with the head-master, and, as we know, had defended himself on the plea that Railsford, being a malefactor himself, was not competent to judge of the conduct of his boys. The doctor had severely silenced this covert accusation, although taking note of it sufficiently to suggest the very awkward string of questions which he put the following morning to the unlucky Master of the Shell.

Felgate, however, had an impression that his statement to the doctor had missed fire; and being determined not wholly to cast his trump card away, he had walked across and sought an interview with Mr Bickers.

That estimable gentleman was considerably impressed by discovering, first of all, that this boy was the author of the mysterious letter last term, and secondly, that he possessed such satisfactory evidence of the strange story.

He accepted Felgate's statement that his sole motive was the credit of Grandcourt and the relief of his own conscience, without too particularly inquiring into its value, and undertook not to mention his informer's name in any use he might have to make of the information.

To that end he suggested it would be better for him to have the "evidence" to produce when required. Felgate promised to send it over to him next day, if that would suit. Mr Bickers said it would suit admirably. There was to be a master's meeting in the evening, when no doubt the question would come up, and if Felgate preferred not to appear himself, he might send Mr Bickers the things there with a letter, which the master promised to read without disclosing the name of the writer.

This seemed a satisfactory plan, and Felgate hoped that in return for what he was doing Mr Bickers would intercede with the doctor to restore him to his prefecture. Which Mr Bickers said he would do, and the interview ended.

Felgate had not much difficulty in possessing himself of the "articles." Arthur had himself exhibited them to him last term, and he remembered the corner of the locker in which they had lain. Probably Arthur had never looked at them since, and would be very unlikely to miss them now. Even if he did, Felgate didn't care.

The securing them was easy enough, for on that particular evening Arthur and Dig were roosting on the big arch of Wellham Abbey, in no condition to interfere if all their worldly goods had been ransacked. The remainder the reader knows.

That eventful evening was to witness one more solemnity before the order for "lights out" cut short its brief career.

Arthur and Dig having returned to their study, held a grave consultation over the sack and match-box and wedge of paper.

"We'd better hide them," said Dig, "where he can't find them again."

"Not safe," said Arthur; "we'd better burn them."

"Burn them!" said Dig, astounded by the audacious proposition. "Then we give up all our evidence."

"Good job too; all the better for Marky. They've done us no good so far."

This was true, and Dig, having turned the matter over, said he was "game."

The conspirators therefore locked their door, and piled up their fire. It was long since their study had glowed with such a cheerful blaze. The resin-wheel flared, and crackled, and spat as if it was in the jest and was enjoying it, and the flames blazed up the chimney as though they were racing who should be the first to carry the joke outside.

The match-box and paper wedge vanished almost instantaneously, and the old bone-dry sack itself rose grandly to the occasion, and flared away merrily inch by inch, until, a quarter of an hour after the illumination had begun, the last glowing vestige of it had skipped up after the sparks.

The boys were sitting complacently contemplating this glorious finale when a loud knock came at the door, and a shout in Ainger's voice of "Let me in!"

"What's the row?" cried Arthur, shovelling the ashes under the grate, while Dig, with wonderful presence of mind, whipped out the toasting- fork, and stuck half a loaf on the end of it.

"Open the door," cried Ainger, accompanying his demand with a kick which made the timbers creak. "Your chimney's on fire!"

Arthur rushed and opened the door, while Dig, once more with wonderful presence of mind, seized up the bath bucket and emptied it on the fire.

"You young idiots," shouted Ainger as he rushed in, half-blinded with the smoke raised by Dig's coup de theatre, "you'll have the house on fire! Bring a jug with you, both of you, up to the roof."

They each snatched up a jug, and with pale countenances followed the captain up to the skylight. As they emerged on to the roof they were horrified to see the chimney belching forth sparks and smoke with unmistakable fierceness.

Fortunately the roof was flat and the chimney-pot accessible. The contents of the three jugs rapidly damped the ardour of the rising flames, and in five minutes after Ainger's first knock at the door the danger was all over.

"Luckily I happened to see it from Smedley's room opposite," said the captain. "Whatever had you been cooking for supper?" They laughed. It was evident the captain was not going to visit the misadventure severely on their heads.

"Something good," said Arthur. "But I guess it'll be a little overdone now. Thanks awfully, Ainger, for helping us out. We might have got into a jolly row if it hadn't been for you, mightn't we, Dig?"

And they departed peacefully to bed, leaving Ainger to wonder what was the use of being the captain of a house when your main occupation is to put out fires kindled by the juniors, and be patted on the back by them in return!



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE BLOW FALLS.

"My good friend," said Monsieur Lablache, "you are in a great trouble. I am sorry for you."

Monsieur had looked in as he sometimes did to breakfast in his friend's study.

The two men, one strong, the other weak, still clung to one another in an odd sort of friendship. Railsford's protection had improved monsieur's position in the school not a little. The boys of his own house were more tolerant of his foreign peculiarities; and some of the other masters, taking to heart the chivalrous example of their junior colleague, had begun to think better of the unpopular detention master, and to recognise good qualities in him to which hitherto they had been blind.

If monsieur could only have got it out of his head that he was a born diplomatist, there would not have been a more harmless master in Grandcourt.

"I am sorry for you, my good friend," repeated he. "But you will be brave."

"Really, Lablache, you don't give a man an appetite for breakfast. Things don't look very cheerful, I know; but what special cause for lamentation have we?"

"Bad lies will be told of you at the masters' meeting to-night," said the Frenchman, "but take courage, mon ami, I shall be there."

"Have you any idea what the lies are to be?" asked Railsford, who perhaps was not as jubilant as he might have been at this last cheering promise.

"Meester Beekaire, so I have heard, desires to accuse you of having assaulted him. It is absurd. But no; I overhear him say to Meester Rogers in the masters' hall that he has evidence, he has evidence—ho! ho! it is absurd."

Railsford had not much difficulty after his talk with Arthur last night in guessing where this evidence was likely to be, and whence it proceeded. If that was the whole of the trouble he had to face, he could have afforded to laugh with monsieur. But the doctor's question still rang in his ears. That, he could not get round or avoid.

"Bickers no doubt believes he is right," said he, "but, as you say, monsieur, he is absurd—I wish he had been allowed to say what he wanted at the last meeting, when I wasn't there."

"But, mon ami, it would be unfair. Let him say it to your face, and you stand up and say to him to his face, it is one—what you call it, one very big lie."

"Well, I will do my best," said Railsford, smiling. "It is a wretched business altogether."

"It is strange it is a secret still. I have my thoughts often, friend Railsford. I sometimes think of this boy, and sometimes of that boy; I have even said to myself, Why do we look only in Meester Railsford's house? Why could it not be—for I see boys of all the houses—why could it not be perhaps one of Meester Beekaire's own boys? They hate him—I wish Branscombe would come back. I think if he did, I would ask him."

Railsford shifted his chair uneasily, and suddenly changed the conversation.

"How are the little girls?" asked he.

Poor monsieur! It was easy to turn him from any subject by a question like this. His eyes glistened at the mere mention of their names, and as he sat there and talked about them, with their portraits lying on the breakfast-table before him, Mr Bickers, Branscombe, even Railsford himself vanished out of sight, and his world held nothing but just those three little absent girls of his far away in his beloved France.

Railsford was tempted more than once during the day to absent himself boldly from the masters' meeting in the evening, and allow matters to take whatever course they chose in his absence.

"After all," he said to himself, "the fatal question will be put sooner or later, and then I must go down."

"Probably," said the bolder spirit within him; "but keep your feet, Railsford, my brave fellow, as long as you can."

So he braced himself up to the ordeal, and walked across at the appointed time, calm and collected, determined to "die game," if die he must.

It was a full meeting, but, to everybody's surprise, most of all Railsford's, Dr Ponsford was not present.

The head-master, as I have said, had the greatest belief in holding himself aloof from the settlement of any question which could possibly be settled without him. One might have supposed that the present question was one which would require his particular handling. Ultimately it would, no doubt; but meanwhile he would let his lieutenants sift the various issues raised, and send up to him only the last point for his adjudication.

Railsford was disappointed, on the whole; for his one wish was to have the matter settled once for all, and to know the worst before he went to bed that night.

Mr Roe, and Grover, and one or two more of his friends came forward to greet him as he entered, as if nothing was about to take place. But he did not feel actor enough to keep up the farce, and retired to his back seat at the first opportunity, and waited impatiently for the meeting to begin.

The usual routine business seemed interminable. The little questions of procedure and discipline which were brought up and talked over had very little interest to him, and once, when he found his opinion was being directly invited on some matter, he had with confusion to admit that he had not gathered what the question was.

At last Mr Roe said, turning over the agenda paper—

"That disposes of all the ordinary business. The only other matter is a personal question adjourned from our last meeting."

Whereupon everyone settled himself in his place expectantly. Mr Bickers rose briskly and made his speech.

"Mr Roe and gentlemen," said he, "I am sorry once again to trouble the meeting with the affairs of so very unimportant a person as myself, and I can only repeat what I have said before, and what I have a right to take credit for, that my only motive in doing so is my clear duty to Grandcourt, and the removal from a large number of innocent boys of a stigma under which they at present suffer."

Here someone said, "Hear, hear," and everybody agreed that Mr Bickers had begun well.

"In February last," continued he, "I was unfortunate enough to meet with some personal violence while passing the door of an adjoining house in the dark, I was seized from behind, enveloped in a sack, which was tied over my head and shoulders, in a manner which both gagged me and rendered me powerless to move my arms. My feet were also tied together, and in this condition I was dragged into a cupboard under the stairs and there left for the night. My impression is that two or three strong persons were engaged in the outrage, although the pinioning was performed by only one. I was released in the morning by my colleague in whose house I had been attacked, who, with his senior boys, untied my hands, and expressed himself as greatly astonished and indignant at what had befallen me. I fully believed at the time these protestations on my colleague's part were sincere."

Here Mr Bickers was beginning to get aggressive, and the backs of one or two of Railsford's friends, particularly monsieur's back, went up.

"That same morning, gentlemen, the doctor came and challenged the house to produce the offender or offenders. Every boy in the house was called over and questioned separately; said each one denied not only that he had done it himself, but that he had any knowledge of who had. Every member of the house, except the master of the house, was thus questioned. The master was not challenged.

"The house was disgraced by the doctor; and from that time to this the secret has been carefully kept. But capital has been made out of the supposed misfortune of the house to set on foot several ambitious schemes which depended for their success on the continued isolation of the house from the rest of the school.

"The master of the house was a prime mover in these schemes, and in consequence decidedly interested in preserving the new state of affairs.

"Now, gentlemen, you may ask why I make all this preamble—"

"Hear, hear!" from monsieur, and "Order, order!" from the chairman.

"I do so because I feel I have no right to take for granted that you all know what is nevertheless a notorious fact in Grandcourt.

"Now, gentlemen, it appears that my colleague's acquiescence in the disgrace of his house was not shared by some of his boys; certainly not by one—whose name I am not at liberty to mention—but whom I can speak of honourably, as being actuated by disinterested motives in securing justice to myself—which is a matter of small moment—and in removing a slur from the good name of Grandcourt.

"This boy took the trouble to make some inquiries shortly after the event, and succeeded in getting together some evidence, which, when I produce it, I think will convince you that little doubt remains as to the identity of the real culprit. I should have preferred if my informant might have been present here to state his own case, but he is naturally reluctant to come forward. He has, however, described to me what the nature of his evidence is; and I have his full authority for making use of that information now.

"In the first place, he claims to have found the sack in which I was enveloped, and which was left on the floor of the cupboard where I had been imprisoned, after my release. This sack, he tells me, bears the initials M.R., which correspond with the initials of the—"

"Midland Railway," dryly observed Grover amid some smiles, which roused Mr Bickers considerably.

"No, sir—the initials M.R. correspond with the name of the master of the house in which I was assaulted. They belong to Mark Railsford."

Railsford sat with his lips drawn contemptuously during this announcement, which failed to make the impression on the meeting generally which the speaker had expected. But he went on.

"In the second place, he found that the door, which closes by itself when not propped open, had been held open by a twisted piece of paper, which, on being unrolled, was found to be part of a newspaper, addressed to Mark Railsford, Esquire, Grandcourt."

This made rather more impression than the last; except on Railsford, who still faced his accuser scornfully.

"In the third place, a match-box was discovered on the ledge above the door, placed there, to judge by its freedom from dust, very recently. I ask you to notice three things in connection with this, gentlemen. A match was struck while I was being dragged into the cupboard; a match found on the floor that morning corresponds exactly with the matches in the box placed up on the ledge; and finally, the height of that ledge from the ground shows that it could only have been placed there by someone over six feet high; and the only person of that height in the house is the master, Mr Mark Railsford."

A dead silence followed this, and masters present wondered how Railsford could still sit so indifferent and unmoved.

"Now, gentlemen," continued Mr Bickers, after having allowed a due interval for this last shot to go home, "I should not be justified in repeating these assertions unless I were also prepared to lay before you the proofs on which those assertions are based. I therefore requested my informant to let me have these. He has done this, and this parcel,"—here he took up a brown-paper parcel from the seat beside him—"containing the articles I have mentioned, was placed in my hands just as I came to this meeting. I have not even examined them myself, so that I am sure you will do me the credit of believing that when I place them just as they are in your hands, Mr Chairman, I cannot be charged with having tampered with my evidence in any way."

Here he handed the parcel up to Mr Roe, amid dead silence.

"Had you not better open it yourself?" asked the chairman, who evidently did not like the business.

"No, sir; I request you will do so, and that Mr Railsford will confront the contents first in your hands, not mine."

"There is a letter here addressed to you," said Mr Roe.

"Please read that also," said Mr Bickers, declining to take it.

Mr Roe knitted his brow and tore open the envelope.

His brows went up with a start as his eyes fell on the opening words. He read the letter through, and then, turning to Mr Bickers, said, "This letter is not intended for reading aloud, Mr Bickers."

"Yes it is. I insist on your reading it, Mr Chairman."

"If you insist, I will do it; but I think you would be wiser to put it in your pocket."

"Read it, Mr Chairman," repeated Mr Bickers excitedly.

Mr Roe accordingly read, in a voice which betrayed some emotion:—

"'Sir,— I'm a cad, and a liar and a thief. Don't believe a word I say. You can tell anyone you like; most of them know already.

"'Yours truly,

"'Jerry Sneak.'"

The effect of the letter may be more easily imagined than expressed. The audience received it first with astonishment, then with consternation, and finally, as the light dawned in on their minds, with laughter. Railsford alone looked serious and bewildered.

As for Mr Bickers, his face turned white, and he looked for a moment as if he would spring at Mr Roe's throat. He snatched the letter from the chairman's hand and looked at it, and then stared round him, on the amused faces of his colleagues.

"You have been hoaxed, I fear," said Mr Roe.

Mr Bickers said nothing, but pointed to the parcel.

"Am I to open it?" asked the chairman.

"Yes, yes!" said the master hoarsely.

Mr Roe obeyed, and disclosed the turf amid another general laugh, in which all but Railsford and Mr Bickers joined.

The latter had by this time lost his self-control. He glared round him like a baited animal, and then, rounding suddenly on Railsford, exclaimed, "This is your doing! You are at the bottom of this!"

Railsford vouchsafed no reply but a contemptuous shrug. He was in no humour to see the joke. Disgust was his one sensation.

"Order, please," said the chairman. "These meetings, if they are to be of any value, must be conducted without any quarrelling. Mr Bickers, may we consider this unpleasant affair now at an end?"

"No!" shouted Mr Bickers. "I have been insulted! I don't care by whom! The matter is not at an end—not till I have received an answer from this Railsford here to my question! Let him get up like a man and say he did not attack me like a coward last term, and allow the blame and suspicion to fall on others; let him even get up and declare that he does not know anything about the affair. I defy him to do it! He dare not!"

A silence followed this violent tirade, and everyone turned to Railsford. He sat, motionless and pale, with his eyes on his accuser.

"Have you anything to say, Mr Railsford, or shall we consider the matter at an end?"

"I have nothing to say," said the Master of the Shell, sitting, "except that I refuse to answer these questions."

"Very good! Quite right!" said monsieur, springing to his feet. "When Meester Beekaire can speak like a gentleman, he—"

Here the chairman interrupted.

"I addressed my question to Mr Railsford," said he. "I can understand he declines, under present circumstances, to make any reply to these accusations. But may I suggest it would be most unfortunate if we had to adjourn this disagreeable question again? (Hear, hear.) I imagine it can be very easily terminated to-night. We are all ready, I am sure, to make allowance for a gentleman who is suffering from the irritation of a practical joke. His questions were undoubtedly offensively put, and Mr Railsford, as I say, was entitled to refuse to answer them. But I ask him, in order to close this painful controversy finally, to allow me as chairman of this meeting, to repeat those questions myself, so that he may have an opportunity, as no doubt he desires, of formally placing on record his denial of the charges which have been brought against him."

Railsford gasped inwardly. The long-expected blow was coming, and he felt it was no use to run from it any longer.

"The questions resolve themselves to two. First. Is there any foundation for the charge that you committed or in any way participated in the assault on Mr Bickers last term? And second, Is there any truth in the statement that you know who the culprit or culprits are? Mr Bickers, have I stated your questions correctly?"

"Yes," growled Mr Bickers. "Let him answer them if he can."

Every one now turned to Railsford, who rose slowly to his feet and fixed his eyes full on the chairman. His friends thought they had rarely seen a finer-looking man than he appeared at that moment, and looked forward with pleasure to applauding his denial, and greeting him as finally clear of the odious suspicions under which he had laboured for so long.

His reply was brief and clear:—

"Mr Roe and gentlemen,—The first question I answer with an emphatic negative. The second question I do not answer at all."

A bombshell exploding in the hall could not have caused greater consternation and astonishment than this avowal.

Grover, monsieur, and his other friends turned pale, and wondered if they were dreaming; others frowned; Mr Bickers smiled.

"I knew it!" said he. "I knew it!"

Mr Roe said,—

"You can hardly have heard the question properly, Mr Railsford; may I repeat it?"

"I heard it perfectly well," said Railsford.

"You are aware of the very serious nature of your reply? Do you give any reasons for your refusal?"

"None at all."

"I think," said Mr Grover, rising gallantly to protect his friend, "it would be well if this meeting adjourned. I submit there is no further business before us."

"I oppose that," said Mr Bickers, who had recovered his calmness rapidly. "I propose, Mr Chairman, that this meeting adjourn for five minutes, while the head-master is invited to come and assist our decisions."

This was seconded.

"If I may be allowed," said Railsford, "I should like to support that proposal."

After that, of course, it was agreed to; and for five minutes the meeting stood suspended.

Railsford's friends utilised the interval by begging him to reconsider his position, and if possible put himself right by stating all he knew. He thanked them, but said it was impossible, and finally withdrew again to his own seat, and waited anxiously for the doctor's arrival.

In due time the head-master arrived, with a tolerable notion of the object of this unusual summons.

Mr Roe briefly explained what had taken place, and reported the circumstances under which the head-master's authority was now invited.

For once the doctor looked genuinely distressed. Despite all his rebuffs, he had for some weeks looked upon the Master of the Shell as one of the most promising men on his staff; and he deplored the infatuation which now promised to bring his connection with Grandcourt to an abrupt end.

But there was no alternative.

"Mr Railsford," said he, "you have heard Mr Roe's statement; is it correct?"

"Quite correct, sir."

"And you persist in your refusal to say whether or no you have any knowledge as to who the persons were who assaulted Mr Bickers?"

"I cannot answer the question."

"You know that the inference from such a refusal is that you know the names and refuse to give them up—in other words, that you are shielding the evil-doers?"

"I cannot answer that or any question on the subject, Doctor Ponsford. I am aware of my position, and feel that I have no course open but to place my resignation in your hands."

Once more poor monsieur started up.

"Oh no. He has good reasons. He is not bad. He must not leave."

The doctor motioned him to be silent, and then, addressing Railsford said—

"Your resignation of course follows as a natural consequence of the position you adopt. It is better that you should offer it than that I should have to ask for it. I shall take a week to consider my duty in the matter. This meeting is now at an end."



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THINGS GO WELL WITH MR. BICKERS.

It is not to be wondered at if the proceedings at the remarkable masters' session just reported leaked out somehow, and became the talk of Grandcourt. It was rarely that anything the masters did or said in their solemn conclaves made much impression on the complacency of their boys; but on the present occasion it was other wise.

Rumour had already been active as to the feud between Mr Bickers and the Master of the Shell, and not a few of the better-informed boys had heard that it was connected with the outrage last term, and that Mr Bickers's intention was to bring that crime home, in some manner best known to himself, to Mr Railsford.

The idea was generally pooh-poohed as a piece of vindictive folly. For all that, there was a good deal of speculation as to the proceedings at the masters' session, and, when it was over, curiosity to learn the result. The hurried summons to the doctor during the evening had not passed unnoted; the general opinion was that the "row" had come suddenly and acutely to a head.

When two superior officers fly at one another's throats the spectacle may be interesting, and even amusing, to the onlooker; but I never heard of it doing anything towards the promotion of discipline or the encouragement of good tone among the rank and file. The quarrel of the two masters at Grandcourt certainly failed to do any good to the school, and if it did less mischief than might have been expected, it was because up till now the parties principally concerned had had their own reasons for keeping it private.

Felgate was naturally anxious to hear the result of an entertainment to which he had, as he imagined, made so valuable a contribution. He therefore ventured to call on Mr Bickers the following morning for a little friendly chat.

His reception did not quite come up to his expectations.

"So, sir," exclaimed Mr Bickers, meeting him at the door, "you have thought me a fitting subject for one of your jokes, have you? What have you to say for yourself?"

Felgate looked at him in amazement.

"I really don't understand," said he. "What joke?"

"You wish to keep it up, do you? Very well, sir!" and Mr Bickers took down a cane. "You have thought fit to amuse yourself at my expense," said Mr Bickers. "I intend to repay myself at yours! Hold out your hand!"

"You are not going to punish me for—"

"Hold out your hand, sir!"

"Really, I acted for the best. If it was a mistake, I—"

"Do you hear me, sir? Hold out your hand at once!"

Felgate sullenly obeyed, and Mr Bickers there and then discharged his little debt, adding interest.

"Now go away, and don't dare to come near me again! Stay, take with you these tokens of your ill-timed humour; they may serve to amuse someone else. Begone!" and he thrust into his hands the unlucky parcel and closed the door in his face.

Felgate, smarting and bewildered, walked back to his house with the parcel under his arm, furious with Mr Bickers, and as eager now for revenge on him as yesterday he had been for revenge on Railsford.

What could have happened to make all his carefully laid scheme fall through, and set Mr Bickers, whom he had counted upon as an ally, thus suddenly against him? Had Railsford met him with some counter-charge, or turned the tables by some unexpected move in the face of his accusers?

That could not be, for already the rumour had spread through the house that Mr Railsford had resigned his post.

What did Mr Bickers mean by talking of a joke, and thrusting back upon him the very proofs which but yesterday had been objects of such anxious care and solicitude to them both?

Felgate flung the unlucky parcel down on the table, and called himself a fool for ever having meddled with it.

Was it possible he himself had been made a fool of, and that these precious proofs had after all been trumped up by that young scapegrace, Herapath, to hoodwink him?

At any rate, Arthur might have his property back now, and much good might it do him. He should—

Felgate started as he suddenly caught sight of what looked like a blade of grass protruding from a rent in the brown paper.

He looked again. It was not one blade only, but two or three. With an exclamation of consternation he tore off the covering and disclosed—the turf!

A joke? No wonder Mr Bickers's manner had been a trifle stiff that morning.

However had it got there? It was like a conjurer's trick. No one had seen or touched the parcel but himself. He had himself placed it in Mr Bickers's hands. Indeed, from the time he had taken the things from Herapath's cupboard till the moment of parting with them, he had scarcely had his eyes off it.

Stay! That evening he was at the Forum, he had left it for an hour unguardedly in his room. Yet, even then, he could almost have sworn the parcel had been untouched in his absence. Besides, the letter was there still, directed in his own hand.

He picked up the envelope, to satisfy himself it was the same. Of course it was; and he had explained in his letter what the articles were.

He took out the letter and glanced at it; and as he did so the blood rushed to his face, and he knew at last that he had been made a fool of.

It needed no great penetration to guess who it was to whom he owed his humiliation. So he armed himself with a ruler in one hand and the parcel in the other, and walked over to Herapath's study.

The proprietors were at home, and had apparently expected the visit, for an elaborate barricade had been drawn across the door by means of the table, bedstead, and other furniture, so that Felgate, when he looked in, could barely see more than the heads of his young friends.

"Let me in," he said, trying to push the door open.

"Awfully sorry; can't come in," said Dig cheerfully. "Herapath and I are having a scrub up. Come again presently."

"Do you hear me, you two? Let me in at once."

"Don't you hear, we're doing the place up?" said Arthur. "Go to some of the other chaps if you want a job done."

"I want you two; and if you don't let me in at once, I'll force my way in."

"Say what you want there; we can hear," said Arthur.

Felgate made a violent effort to effect an entrance, but without avail. The stout iron bedsteads held their own, and the wedge inserted under the door prevented it from opening farther than to allow the invader's head to peep in.

"I shall report you for this," said Felgate.

"Ha! ha! ha! you're not a monitor, my boy. Go and do it. We'll report you for invading our privacy. Say what you want there, can't you?"

"You know what I want well enough," said Felgate, forced at last to recognise that entrance was hopeless.

"What's the good of coming to tell us, then?" responded Dig.

"What business had you to go to my room the other evening?"

"Went to return your call," said Arthur. "Sorry we weren't at home when you called on us, and thought we'd do the polite and look you up. That makes us square, doesn't it?"

"Do you know I could get you expelled for coming and taking things out of my room?" said Felgate.

"Ha! ha! Do it! look sharp. We'll all go home together."

"I want the things you took away; do you hear? One of the masters has sent for them; they are to be given up immediately."

"Are they? Tell one of the masters, if he wants them he'd better go up the chimney after them."

"I shan't waste my time here any more. You'll be sorry for it, both of you, when I catch you."

"All right, wait till then. I say, you haven't seen a lump of turf about, have you? There's one missing."

"Ha! ha!" chimed in Dig. "How did you like the writing of the letter? Jolly hand our chaps write in the Shell, don't they?"

Felgate had not remained to hear these last two genial inquiries, but had returned, storming and raving, to his room.

The only game left him now was revenge. He would be very much surprised if that did not come off a little better than the last!

Arthur and Dig, meanwhile, were by no means in the elated spirits which their successful resistance to the siege might have warranted. Not that they were affected by the bully's retreating threat; they had heard that sort of thing from one or two fellows in their day, and their bones were still unbroken.

No; what afflicted them, and plunged them into a sea of wrath and misery, was the report circulated that morning and confirmed by reliable testimony, that Marky was going to leave Grandcourt.

At first they could not credit it. But when Ainger himself, with a long face, confirmed it, they were forced to believe their ears.

"Why?" they asked.

But Ainger had nothing to tell them on that score.

They therefore took the bold step of waiting upon the Master of the Shell himself.

"Marky," said Arthur, "it's not true you're leaving, is it?"

The misery of the boy's tone went to Railsford's heart.

"I am afraid it is true, Arthur. How did you hear?"

"Everybody knows. But, I say, why?"

"I have resigned."

"You resigned—of your own accord? Haven't you been kicked out, then? Aren't you obliged to go?"

"I am obliged to go, that's why I have resigned. You'll know all about it some day."

"But, I say, can't you withdraw your resignation and stay? Oh, I say, Marky, we shall be awfully up a tree without you here. Why ever are you going? Can't it all be squared?"

"No, old fellow, I fear not. But I am not going for a week yet. Let's make the most of the time, and get ahead with our work; for, remember, you've that Swift Exhibition coming near ahead."

"Work!" exclaimed Arthur, in disgust. "I'll not do a stroke of work more. I tell you what, if you leave, Marky, I shall leave too, and so will Dig, there!"

"My dear old fellow," said Railsford kindly, "you are talking like a little donkey. If you want to help me, you'll just determine to work all the harder now."

"I say," said Dig, shirking the question, "have you got into a row, Mr Railsford? Is it anything about—you know what?"

"You really mustn't ask me, boys; it's sufficient that I have to go, and I don't think you two will believe it is because I have done anything wrong."

"Rather not," said Arthur warmly. "But, I say, Marky, just tell us this—it wasn't us got you into the row, was it? It was awfully low of me to let it out to Felgate; but we bowled him out in time, just when he was going to send those things to Bickers. Did you see the nice trick we played him? He won't be able to do it again, for we burned the things. Such a flare-up! It isn't our fault you're going, is it?"

"No, not a bit," said Railsford. "Now you had better go."

They went and proclaimed their master's wrongs through the length and breadth of the house. The Shell took up the matter specially, and convened an informal meeting to consult as to what was to be done.

"Let's send him a round robin, and ask him not to go," suggested Maple.

"Let's get our governors to write to the doctor," said another.

"Let's all leave if he does; that's bound to make him stay," said a third.

Arthur, however, had a more practical proposal.

"What we'd better do is to get up a whacking petition to Pony," said he. "We've got a right to do it; and if all the fellows will sign it, he can't well let him go."

The question arose, Who was to write the petition? And after some discussion it was resolved to call the amiable Stafford into their councils. He at once suggested that if the petition was to be of any weight it should come from the entire house, with the captain's name at the head of the list; and a deputation was told off forthwith to wait upon Ainger.

He was not very encouraging, but said there would be no harm in trying, and undertook to draw up the petition and sign his name first underneath.

The petition was short and business-like:

"To Dr Ponsford. Sir,—We, the boys of Mr Railsford's house, have heard with great sorrow that he is to leave Grandcourt. We consider he has done more for our house than any other master, and feel it would be the greatest loss to all of us if he were to go. He does not know we are sending this. We hope it will have your favourable consideration, and make it possible for him to stay among us."

In two days this document received the signature of every boy in the house except Felgate and Munger, who contrived to evade it. Ainger took no trouble to press them for their signatures, and indeed stated, not in a whisper, that the petition would carry more weight without these two particular names than with them. Whereat Felgate and Munger felt rather sorry they had not signed.

A deputation was then appointed, consisting of the head boy in each form represented in the house, to convey the petition to the doctor. Arthur, not being the head Shell boy in the house, felt very sore to be left out, and prophesied all sorts of failure to the undertaking in consequence.

However, he was consoled vastly by a fight with Tilbury that same afternoon. Tilbury, though a signatory to the petition, was unlucky enough to brag, in the hearing of his comrade, that one reason he had signed it was because he believed Railsford had had something to do with the paying-out of Mr Bickers last term, and was a friend to the house in consequence. Whereupon Arthur, crimson in the face, requested him to step outside and receive the biggest hiding he had ever had in his life.

Tilbury obeyed, and although the combat was not quite so decided as Arthur had boasted, it disposed of the libel which had originated it, and made it clear to the house that those who knew best, at any rate, were now as firmly resolved to defend their master's innocence as last term they had been to glory in his guilt.

The doctor received the deputation politely, and allowed Ainger to read the petition and list of names without interruption.

When the ceremony was over, he said, quietly—

"The only fault I have to find with you is that you have presented your petition to me instead of to Mr Railsford. It is perfectly open for Mr Railsford to with draw his resignation. In that case it would fall to me to settle the question of his remaining here; and that would be the time for you to present your petition."

This was not very consoling; and the doctor's manner discouraged any further explanation.

Ainger therefore left the petition lying on the table, and withdrew his men to report the doubtful success of their mission to their comrades.

The week wore on, and in two days Railsford's short reprieve would be up.

He had already begun to get together some of his things preparatory to packing up, and had written out a careful paper of memoranda for the use of his successor. He had allowed the work of the house to be as little as possible disturbed by the coming event, and had even hurt monsieur's feelings by the peremptory manner in which he discouraged any representation being made by the masters with a view to avert his departure.

He had of course sent a plain, unvarnished account of his position to his "special correspondent," which happily reached her at the same time as a highly-coloured and decidedly alarming communication on the same subject from Miss Daisy's brother.

He received an answer full of courage, which helped him greatly. Yet as the day drew near he felt himself clinging desperately to his post, and hoping against hope, even at the eleventh hour, to see some daylight through his great difficulty.

Had he known that on that very last day but one Mr Bickers had received by the post a certain letter, he might have felt tempted to delay till to-morrow the final strapping-up of his portmanteau.

For Mr Bickers's letter was from Branscombe; and was as follows:—

"Sir,—I have been expecting to return to Grandcourt all this term, but I am sorry to say I have been ill again, and the doctor says I shall have to go abroad for some months. Before I go, I feel I must make a confession which will surprise you as much to read as it pains me to write it. I was the ringleader in the attack upon you last term at the door of Mr Railsford's house. I was very angry at the time at having been punished by you before all my house. But I am very sorry now for what happened, and hope you will in time forgive me. I know what trouble my conduct has caused, not only to you, but to Mr Railsford, whose house has been unjustly punished for what was my offence. There were three of us in it. One was another boy of your house, and the other was in Mr Railsford's house, only all he did was to show us the cupboard in which we put you. I should be glad to think, before I go away, that things are put right at Grandcourt by this confession. Please forgive me for my revengeful act, and, believe me, sir, yours truly,—

"S. Branscombe.

"P.S.—Please show this letter to Dr Ponsford and Mr Railsford."

This startling letter Mr Bickers read over several times, with great amazement and no less vexation. He was angry, not at the injury which had been done to himself, but because this letter had come just when it did.

To-morrow, in all probability, his enemy would have left Grandcourt, and then it would be less matter. For even if the truth were then made known, Railsford's offence in shielding the evil-doer would remain the same. But now this letter might spoil everything. It would, at any rate, postpone Railsford's departure, and might give him an opportunity of reinstating himself for good at Grandcourt.

Mr Bickers was in a quandary. He was by nature a vindictive, jealous, and fussy man, with a low opinion of everybody, and an extreme obstinacy in his own opinion. But he was not naturally a dishonest man. It was only when his other passions rushed out strongly in one direction, and his integrity stood on the other side, that his honour suffered shipwreck and went by the board.

It did so now, for Mr Bickers, having thought over the situation, deliberately put the letter into his pocket, and went about his usual avocations as if nothing had happened.

Any amount of excuses rushed in to his assistance. After all, there had been three culprits, and one of them belonged to the accused house. Railsford, no doubt, was shielding his own boy, and Branscombe's confession affected in no way his offence or the penalty attached to it.

On the whole, there was nothing to make Mr Bickers uncomfortable, and it was observed in the masters' hall that evening that he made himself quite agreeable, and even nodded in a half-friendly way to Railsford on the occasion of his last appearance at school-dinner.

After the Master of the Shell had retired to his house the doctor asked his other lieutenants to remain a few moments, as he had a statement to make to them.

Every one knew what that statement was to be.

"It is only right that I should inform you," said Dr Ponsford, "that I have considered it my duty to accept Mr Railsford's resignation, and that he leaves Grandcourt to-morrow. I confess that I do this with great pain and regret, for I have the highest opinion of Mr Railsford's abilities and character. But discipline must be maintained in a school like ours. I have no doubt that in acting as he has done Mr Railsford considers that he is acting honourably. I do not wish to impugn his motives, mistaken as I suppose them. But the fact remains that he virtually admits his knowledge of the offender last term, and at the same time refuses to give him up to justice. Under those circumstances I had no choice but to accept his resignation."

For a moment Branscombe's letter burned uncomfortably in Mr Bickers's pocket while the doctor was speaking. But it cooled again, and when Mr Grover said,—

"I am sure, sir, you will not misunderstand me when I say that your statement has caused some of us the deepest pain," he felt himself able to join in the universal "Hear, hear," with quiet fervour.

"We fully recognise," continued Mr Grover, "that under the circumstances you had only this one course left open to you. At the same time, we who know and esteem our colleague, feel that his removal will be a distinct loss to Grandcourt, and would like to add our own opinion to yours, that in the course he has considered it right to take, he has been actuated by conscientious and honourable motives."

Mr Bickers having said, "Hear, hear" once, did not feel called upon to repeat it at the end of this short speech, and was, indeed, rather glad to hurry back to his own house.

He had an idea that this time to-morrow he should feel considerably more comfortable.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

CLEARING UP, AND CLEARING OUT.

Railsford's farewell evening in his house was not destined to be a peaceful one.

He had scarcely returned from the masters' dinner, meditating a few final touches to his packing, when Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, waited upon him.

The baronet was evidently agitated; and more than that, his face was one-sided, and one of his eyes glowed with all the colours of the rainbow.

"Why, Oakshott," said the master, "what is the matter? You have been fighting."

"That's not half of it," said Dig excitedly. "I say, Marky—I mean Mr Railsford; please Herapath wants to see you. He's in a bad way up- stairs. It's that cad Felgate. He's bashed us. He was in an awful wax about the dodge we played him over that sack, you know, and tried to pay us out the other day; but we kept him out. But he's been waiting his chance ever since; and when I was out of the study this evening, he came in, and gave it hot to Herapath. When I got back, Arthur was about done, and then Felgate turned on me. If I'd been bigger, I could have got a stroke or two in at his face; but I couldn't do it. I barked his shins though, and gave him one on the neck with my left. So he didn't get it all his own way. But, I say, can't you come up and see old Herapath? You haven't got any raw beef-steaks about, have you? He'll want a couple to set him right."

Railsford hurried up-stairs.

Arthur was lying on his sofa, blinking up at the ceiling with his one open eye—an eloquent testimony both to his friend's veracity and to the activity of his assailant.

"You see," he began, almost before Railsford reached the patient, so anxious was he to excuse his battered appearance, "he caught me on the hop, Marky, when I never expected him, and gave me no time to square up to him. I could have made a better fight of it if he'd given me time between the rounds; but he didn't."

Railsford made no remark on the unequal conflict, but did what he could to assist the sufferer, and reduce his countenance to its normal dimensions.

Arthur was far less concerned at his wounds than at the moral injury which he had suffered in being so completely punished in the encounter. He feared Railsford would entertain a lower opinion of him in consequence.

"If I'd have only known he was coming, I could have made it hotter for him," he said; "only he got my head in chancery early, and though I lashed out all I could, he took it out of me. Marky, do you mind feeling if my ribs are all right? I sort of fancied one of 'em had gone."

His ribs, however, were all there; and badly as he was bruised, Railsford was able to pronounce that no bones were broken, which greatly relieved both the boys.

The master helped the wounded warrior to undress, and then assisted him up to the dormitory, where, after carefully tucking him up, and advising Dig to turn in too, he left him and returned to his room.

His impulse was immediately to summon Felgate, and mete out to him exemplary chastisement for his dastardly act. But on second thoughts he remembered that he was, or rather he would be to-morrow, no longer master of the house. Besides, much as the chastisement might have relieved his own feelings, it would leave the house and everyone in it in much the same position as heretofore.

Putting everything together, he decided that his last official act should be to report the matter to the doctor next morning, and leave him to deal with it.

Having come to which conclusion, he strapped up his portmanteau, and sent an order to Jason for his cab to-morrow.

He was meditating an early retirement to bed, when a knock sounded at the door, and the three prefects entered.

It seemed a long while since their first embarrassed meeting in that same room at the beginning of last term. Much had happened since then. The house had gone down into the depths and risen to the heights. There had come disgrace and glory, defeat and victory. The ranks of the prefects themselves had been broken, and the master himself had ended his brief career amongst his boys. But as great a change as any had been the growing respect and sympathy between Railsford and his head boys.

It was long since he had learned the secret that sympathy is the golden key to a boy's heart. As long as he tried to do without it, sitting on his high horse, and regarding his pupils as mere things to be taught and ordered and punished, he had failed. But from the moment he had seized the golden opportunity presented by the misfortune of the house to throw in his lot with it, and make his interests and ambitions those of his boys, he had gained a hold which no other influence could have given him.

His prefects had led the way in the reaction which had set in in his favour, and perfect confidence bound them all together in no common bond.

"Do you mind our disturbing you, sir?" said Ainger. "We didn't want you to go without our telling you how awfully sorry we are. We don't know what will become of the house."

"I'm not sure that I much care," said Stafford.

"How good of you to come like this!" said the master. "For I wanted to talk to you. You must care, Stafford, and all of you. You surely aren't going to give up all the work of these two terms just because a little misfortune has befallen us?"

"It's not a little misfortune," said Ainger, "but a very great one."

"All the more reason you should not be knocked over by it. Didn't we all set ourselves to work last term in the face of a big misfortune, and didn't we get some good out of it for the house? It will be my one consolation in leaving to feel sure you will not let the work of the house flag an inch. Remember, Railsford's is committed to the task of becoming cock house of the school. Our eleven is quite safe. I'm certain no team in all the rest of the houses put together can beat us. But you must see we give a good account of ourselves on prize-day too. Some of the boys have nagged a little lately in work. We must keep them up to it—not by bullying—nobody will work for that—but by working on their ambition, and making the cause of each boy the cause of the whole house."

Railsford, as he uttered these words, seemed to forget how soon he would have to say "you" instead of "we." He had hardly realised yet what that meant.

"We'll try hard," said Ainger. "But what we wanted to say, besides letting you know how sorry we are, was to ask if it's really necessary for you to go. Is there no way of getting out of it?"

"None at all, that I can see," said Railsford.

"Fellows say you know who it was assaulted Mr Bickers last term and won't tell. Perhaps it's to save some fellow in the house from being expelled. But—"

"My dear fellows," said Railsford, "don't let's spoil our last evening by talking about this miserable affair. I can't tell you anything at all: I can only ask you to believe I have good reasons for what I'm doing. They ought to be good reasons, if the price I have to pay is to leave Grandcourt, and all of you."

It was evidently no use trying to "draw" him further; and as the first bed bell sounded shortly afterwards, they withdrew after a cordial but dismal farewell.

"I shall see you again in the morning before I go," said he.

The prefects walked away abstracted and downcast. It was all very well for him to say, "Keep the work up when I am gone." But how were they to do it? He was the pivot on which all their work had been turning; and without him what chance was there of keeping the house together for a day?

"Come in here a minute, you fellows," said Ainger, as they reached the captain's door. "We must do something to stop it."

"That's a very feeble observation to make," said Barnworth. "Is that what you want us to come in here for?"

"No, hang it, Barnworth! there's no time for chaff at present. What I want to say is, have we tried every possible means of finding out who scragged Bickers last term?"

"I think so," said Stafford. "Every one in the house has denied it. If it's one of our fellows, it's probably the biggest liar among us."

"Which means Felgate?" said Ainger.

"Or Munger," said Barnworth.

"It's not Felgate," said Ainger, "for he has burnt his fingers in trying to fix it on Railsford himself; and it he was the real culprit, you may depend on it he'd have kept very quiet."

"Munger has kept quiet," said Barnworth.

"Munger! Why, he's a fool and a coward both. He could never have done such a thing."

"Let's ask him. I'll tell you why I mentioned him. I never thought of it till now. The other day I happened to be saying at dinner to somebody that that affair was going to be cleared up at last, and that the doctor had been in consultation with Bickers and Railsford about it the evening before—you know, that's what we were told—and would probably come across—this was an embellishment of my own—with a policeman, and point the fellow out. Munger was sitting opposite me, and when I began to speak he had just filled his tumbler with water, and was going to drink it. But half-way through he suddenly stopped, and put the tumbler down with such a crack on the table that he spilt half the water on to the cloth. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but it occurs to me now."

"Well," said Ainger, "it's an off-chance. Staff, do you mind bringing him?"

"The one thing to do," said Barnworth, while the messenger was gone, "is to frighten it out of him. Nothing else will do."

"Well," said Ainger, "if you think so. You must back me up, though."

After a long interval, Stafford returned to say that Munger was in bed and refused to get up.

"Good," said Barnworth; "I like that. Now, Staff, you amiable old boy, will you kindly go to him again and say that the prefects are waiting for him in the captain's study, and that if he is not here in five minutes they will have to do without him. I fancy that's true, isn't it?" he added, appealing to his colleagues. "Let's see if that doesn't draw him. If it does, depend upon it there was something in that tumbler."

Barnworth was right. In less than five minutes Munger appeared, half- dressed, and decidedly uneasy in his manner.

"What do you want me for?" he demanded, with an attempt at bluster.

"What do you mean by not coming when we sent for you, when you know perfectly well what you are wanted for?"

"What am I wanted for?" asked Munger, glancing nervously round.

"You know well enough, Munger."

"How do I know, till you tell me?" snarled the boy.

"If he doesn't know," said Barnworth to Ainger, significantly, "we must do as we proposed. I'll go and get my papers and be ready for you in a minute."

This meaningless speech had a remarkable effect on Munger. He stared first at one prefect, then at the other; and when Barnworth rose as if to leave the room, he said,—

"Wait—don't do that. What is it you want to ask?"

"You know that as well as we do. Are you going to say what you know, or not?"

"I don't know how you got to know anything about it," began Munger; "it's a plot against me, and—"

"We don't want all that," said Ainger sternly. "What we want to know is, did you do it yourself, and if not who else was in it?"

"Of course I couldn't do it myself. You couldn't, strong as you are."

"You helped, then?"

"I had nothing to do with the—the scragging," said Munger. "I—Oh, I say, Ainger, you aren't going to get me expelled, surely? Do let us off this time!"

"I'm not the head-master; you'll have to ask him that. Your only chance is to make a clean breast of it at once. What was it you did?"

"I only opened the door of the boot-box, and helped drag him in. I had nothing to do with the scragging. Branscombe did all that himself, and Clipstone hung to his legs."

It needed all the self-control of the three prefects to refrain from an exclamation of astonishment at this wonderful disclosure.

"Are you telling the truth?" demanded Ainger.

"I am—I swear it—I never even knew what they meant to do till an hour before. It was Clipstone's idea, and I—owed him money for betting, and he had a pull on me, and made me do it. But I swear I never touched Bickers except to help pull him in."

"Now, one question more. Was there anyone else in it, but just you three?"

"Nobody, as sure as I stand here."

"Very well, you can go now. We shall have to tell the doctor, of course, and there's no knowing what he will do. But it's been your best chance to make a clean breast of it while you had the opportunity."

The wretched Munger departed to his bed, but not to sleep. He could not conceive how Railsford first, and then these three prefects, should have discovered his deeply hidden secret. Not a word about it had escaped his own lips. Branscombe was away, and Clipstone scarcely anyone in Railsford's house ever saw. But the secret was out, and what kept Hunger awake that night was neither shame nor remorse, but fear lest he should be expelled, or, perhaps worse, arrested!

The three prefects sat late, talking over their wonderful discovery. "It's good as far as it goes," said Barnworth. "But it doesn't clear up the question how Railsford got to hear of it, and what his motive has been in shielding the criminals. It can't have been on Munger's account, for the two have been at war all the term; and I don't suppose since the affair he has exchanged two words with either Branscombe or Clipstone."

"Don't you think," said the captain, "that now we do know all about it, we might go and ask him?"

It was a brilliant suggestion, and they went.

But Railsford was in bed and asleep; and his visitors, important as was their business, had not the hardihood to arouse him, and were reluctantly obliged to postpone their explanation till the morning.

Even then they seemed destined to be thwarted; for Railsford had gone for a bathe in the river, and only returned in time for call-over; when of course there was no opportunity for a private conference.

But as soon as breakfast was over they determined to catch him in his room, and put an end to their suspense there and then.

Alas! not five minutes before they arrived, Railsford had gone out, this time, as Cooke informed them, to the doctor's.

It seemed a fatality, and who was to say whether his next move might be to quit Grandcourt without even giving them a chance?

"The only thing to do is to go and catch him at the doctor's," said Ainger; "we've a right to go—at least I have—to report Munger."

"All serene," said Barnworth, "better for you to go alone. It would only put Pony's back up if we all went."

For once in his life Ainger felt that there were some dignities connected with the captaincy of a house; and for once in his life he would have liked to transfer those dignities to any shoulders but his own.

But he put a bold face on it, and marched across to the doctor's.

"Perhaps I shall only make it worse for Railsford," said he to himself. "Pony will think it precious rum of us to have let two terms go by without finding the secret out, and then, when it suits us to find it, getting hold of it in half an hour. So it is, precious rum! And if Railsford has known the names all along and kept them quiet, it's not likely to make things better for him that we have discovered them on our own account. Anyhow, I'm bound to report a thing like this at once, and it's barely possible it may turn something up for Railsford."

As he crossed the quadrangle a cab drove in, and set down a tall, elderly gentleman, who, after looking about him, advanced towards the prefect, and said,—

"Can you direct me to the head-master's house?"

"Yes, sir," said Ainger, "I'm going there myself. It's this way."

It wasn't often strangers made so early a call at Grandcourt.

"A fine old building, this," said the gentleman; "how many houses are there?"

"Eight," said Ainger.

"And whose do you belong to?"

"Railsford's. That's his, behind us."

"And which is Mr Bickers?"

"This must be the father of one of Bickers' fellows," thought Ainger. "That one next to ours," he replied.

The gentleman looked up at the house in an interested way, and then relapsed into silence and walked gravely with his guide to the doctor's.

The doctor's waiting-room was not infrequently tenanted by more than one caller on business at that hour of the morning. For between nine and ten he was at home to masters and prefects and ill-conducted boys; and not a few of the latter knew by painful experience that a good deal of serious business was often crowded into that short space of time.

This morning, however, there was only one occupant when Ainger and the gentleman were ushered in. That occupant was Railsford.

"Why, Ainger," said the master, scarcely noticing the stranger, "I did not expect you here. What are you come for?"

"To report a boy."

"Which one, and for what? Is it a bad case?"

"It's Munger, sir, for being one of the party who assaulted Bickers last term."

Railsford started. And it was an odd thing that the gentleman, although his back was turned, did so too.

"How did you discover that?" said the master.

Ainger briefly explained, and the gentleman, evidently disturbed in his mind, walked to the window.

When the conference between the other two had ended the latter turned abruptly and said,—

"Excuse me, but I accidentally overheard you just now mention a matter in which I am very much interested. In fact, it is about it that I am here to see Dr Ponsford at present."

At that moment the doctor entered the room. The other two naturally gave way to the visitor, who accordingly advanced and greeted the head- master.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Dr Ponsford; I dare say you do not remember me. My name is Branscombe. You know, of course, the painful business on which I have come."

"I hope, Mr Branscombe, your son is no worse. We should be sorry to lose him. We looked upon him as a promising boy."

The gentleman looked hard at the doctor.

"You surely say this to spare my feelings. Dr Ponsford. Of course I understand my son can never return here."

"Is that so? I am truly sorry."

"You would be the last to wish him to return to a school in which his name has been so disgraced."

It was the doctor's turn to look astonished.

"Disgraced? Branscombe was always one of our model boys."

"Until last term," said the father.

"I don't understand you," said the doctor.

"Surely, Dr Ponsford, you know by this time my son's offence. I do not attempt to excuse it. He voluntarily took the only right step to take in his position by confessing."

"Pardon me," said the doctor, "but I still do not understand. What confession do you refer to?"

"Has not Mr Bickers communicated the contents of my son's letter to him, written two days ago? He must have received it yesterday morning. In it my boy confessed that he, assisted by two others, had been the author of the outrage on Mr Bickers last term. He is deeply repentant, and wishes by this confession to put right all the mischief which has resulted from his act. But surely Mr Bickers has shown you the letter?"

"He has neither shown me it nor mentioned it."

"Is it possible? My boy was so anxious and restless about the affair that I promised him to come down and see you; fully expecting that long before now you would have been made acquainted with everything. Would it trouble you to send for Mr Bickers?"

"Certainly," said the doctor. Then, turning to Ainger and Railsford, he said, "Would you two come again later on? and on your way, Ainger, will you ask Mr Bickers to come here?"

"Excuse me, doctor," said Mr Branscombe, "but I should much prefer if these two gentlemen remained. I believe, in fact, that—although I do not know them—they have come to see you on this same business that I have."

"Perhaps, Railsford—" began the doctor, when his visitor broke in, "Railsford! Is this Railsford? Why, to be sure, now I look at you. How ungrateful you must have thought me! but you slipped away so suddenly that day when Mrs Branscombe and I arrived, that in our excitement and anxiety we scarcely had time to look at you; much less to thank you. Indeed, it was only lately my son told me how devotedly you had tended him; and it breaks his heart now to think that you, of all persons, have suffered almost more than anybody by what he did. Surely, sir, Mr Bickers showed you his letter?"

"No, I have not seen or heard of it," said Railsford. "But I know what you say your son has now confessed; and have known it since the time of his illness. Dr Ponsford, I am at liberty now to explain myself; may I do so?"

"Certainly," said the doctor sternly.

Railsford thereupon gave an account of the boy's sudden illness, and of the accidental manner in which he had learned, from the boy's delirious talk, of his own guilt and the guilt of his confederates.

"I could not but regard a secret so acquired as sacred," said he; "and even though by keeping it I was actually shielding criminals, I should have been a greater traitor to betray them than to shield them."

"May I say, sir," put in Ainger at this point, "that the prefects in our house last night received a confession from Munger, which corresponds exactly with what Mr Branscombe says?"

"Except that I did not mention the names of the other two culprits," said Mr Branscombe. "My son did not even name them to me."

"Munger was not so particular. He says Clipstone suggested the affair, and assisted Branscombe to carry it out; while he himself held the light and helped drag Mr Bickers into the boot-box. That was what I had come to report to you now, sir," added he to the head-master.

Dr Ponsford looked half stunned with this cascade of revelations and explanations. Then he went up to Railsford and took his hand.

"I am thankful indeed that all this has happened now—in time. A few hours more, and it would have come too late to prevent a great injustice to you, Railsford. Ainger, go for Mr Bickers, and come back with him."

Mr Bickers had a tolerable inkling of what awaited him, and when he found himself confronted with all the overwhelming evidence which was crowded that morning into the doctor's waiting-room, he hauled down his colours without even coming to close quarters.

"Yes," said he sullenly, "I did keep back the letter. I considered it better for Grandcourt and everyone that Mr Railsford should go than that this old affair should be settled. After all, I was the person chiefly interested in it, and if I didn't choose to do what would vindicate myself, I had a right to do so. My opinion is that there will be no peace at Grandcourt while Mr Railsford is here. If he is now to remain, I shall consider it my duty to resign."

"I hope not, Mr Bickers," said Railsford. "Now that this unhappy secret is cleared up, why shouldn't we forget the past, and work together for the future? I promise for myself and my house to do our best."

"Thank you," said Mr Bickers dryly. "The offer is a tempting one, but it is not good enough. Good-morning."

Late that afternoon Mr Bickers drove away in the cab which had come to take Mr Railsford.

It was an occasion for rejoicing to nobody—for everybody agreed with Railsford that it would have been possible even yet to make a fresh start and work together for the good of the school. But, as Mr Bickers thought otherwise, no one complained of him for leaving.

Another cab came on the following day for Clipstone, whose departure was witnessed with rather more regret, because he was a good cricketer, and not quite as bad a fellow as he often tried to make out. His expulsion was a salutary warning to one or two who had looked up to him as a model—amongst them to Munger, who, transferred, with a heavy bad mark against his name, to Mr Roe's house, thought over his former ways, and tried, as well as a cad of his temper can do, to improve them in the future.

Jason surely was making his fortune fast. For the very next day yet one more cab drove into the square, and, after a brief halt, drove away with Felgate. He left Grandcourt regretted by none, least of all by Arthur Herapath, who, with a beef-steak on his cheek and linseed poultice over his temple, whooped defiantly at the retreating cab from his dormitory window, and began to feel better and better as the rumble of the wheels gradually receded and finally lost itself in the distance.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

"DULCE DOMUM."

The great 20th day of July had come round at last, and Arthur Herapath was in an unwonted flutter of excitement. For was not this speech-day, and were not Mr and Mrs Herapath and Daisy due by the 9.40 train?

Ever since, a week ago, Arthur had heard that he had run a dead heat for the Swift Exhibition with Smythe of the School-House, he had not known which end of him was uppermost. He envied neither Smedley his gold medal nor Barnworth his Cavendish scholarship. He condoled patronisingly with Ainger on not having quite beaten the captain of the school, and virtually hinted to Wake, who had won the first remove into the Sixth, that, if he cared to come and sit at his feet, he might be able to put him up to a thing or two for Plumtre medal next Christmas.

Sir Digby was scarcely less elevated; for he had won the Shell History prize by a deal of tremendous hard work. And as he had never done such a thing in his life before, he scarcely knew what to make of it.

Fellows told him there must have been an awful shady lot in against him; but that didn't satisfactorily explain the great mystery. Railsford told him it was the reward of downright work; and he inclined to think such was the case himself.

Arthur of course gibed at the idea.

"All gammon," said he. "It's a lucky fluke for you, and I'm glad for your mater's sake. But I wouldn't say too much about it if I were you. It'll make the fellows grin."

"Why should they grin at me any more than you?"

"Well, you see, I was in the running for the Swift. They put it down to me last term, so I was bound to pull it off."

"You only pulled off half of it, you know," said Dig.

Arthur looked not quite pleased at this reference, but laughed it off.

"Oh, of course, I can't object to go halves with young Smythe. If I'd known he was quite so hot on it, I might have spurted a bit more. But I'm glad I didn't, poor young beggar. He'd have been precious cut up to miss it."

"What about that boat on the river?" asked Dig, who did not swallow the whole of this. "Are you going to buy the front or back half of it?"

"Young Oakshott," said Arthur, with all the dignity of a Swift exhibitioner, "don't you make a bigger ass of yourself than you can help."

The term had ended well for Railsford's house. Although restored to their equal rights with the rest of Grandcourt, the spirit of enterprise and achievements which had been born during the troubles of last term survived, and begot an equal spirit in the other houses, who felt their prestige in danger from the bold challenge of these latest aspirants.

The match of Railsford's against the School did not come off; for the Athletic Union, of which Railsford had been chosen president by acclamation, decided to limit the contests to house matches only. But though deprived of an opportunity of asserting themselves against all Grandcourt—which might have been of doubtful benefit—the house beat successively the School-house, Roe's and Grover's houses, and, as everyone had foreseen, ended the term as the crack cricket house of the school.

How they would fulfil their other and more ambitious scheme of becoming the "cock house" for studies, remained much longer a doubtful question. No one of course supposed for a moment they would carry off all the prizes they entered for; and, after the removal of the ban upon the house, it was pretty generally calculated they they would do a great deal less than they would have done under the old order of things.

But Railsford was not the man to allow the house to rest on their oars because of a single success. Surely, he represented, it was not to go out to all the school that Railsford's fellows could only work when they were in a bad temper? Glorious as it would have been to clear the prize list when they were isolated and sulky, it would be still more glorious to show that not less could they do it when they were in good cheer and shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the school. Besides, if they won all the athletic events and none of the scholastic, people would be sure to say any fools can excel in sports if they let all their books go by the board.

Thus Railsford whipped up his house to their great effort, and the result was that to-day's prize list showed that nearly half the honours of the examinations had fallen to Railsford's boys. Not a few there were who looked gloomy that the result was no better. They grudged the school the other half. But there was no gloom on the master's face as he read the list down and saw the reward of his labours.

He was proud, but his pride was not on account of Mark Railsford, as six months ago it might have been, but of every boy, senior and junior, who had put his back gallantly into the work and made a name for the good old house.

But this is a tedious digression to make, while Arthur and the baronet are putting on their Sunday "togs" and brushing up their Sunday "tiles" preparatory to going down to meet the 9.40 train from London.

They were up to the business; they had done it before; they knew how essential it was to engage half a dozen cabs off different parts of the rank, so as to be sure of getting one; and, not for the first time in their lives they "bagged" three or four porters in advance with a similar object.

The platform, as usual, was full of Courtiers waiting for their "people," and many was the passage of arms our Shell-fish engaged in to beguile the time.

"Hullo! here's a lark," said Arthur, presently, when the arrival bell had just sounded, "here's Marky—do you see him? I say! won't he blush when Daisy goes and kisses him before all the fellows!"

"Look out," said the baronet, "here comes the scrimmage."

The train was steaming into the station, and as usual the boys all along the platform began to run; and woe betide those who either did not run too, or were not lucky enough to get a perch on the footboard.

Our young gentlemen were far too knowing to suffer disadvantage through neglect of one or another of these simple expedients.

"Here they are!" yelled Arthur, waving to his chum; "spotted them first shot! Go on, Simson, cut your sticks off this step; these are all my people in here. How are you? Dig's here; we've got a cab. Fetch up some of our porters, Dig, I say."

Amid such effusive greetings Mr and Mrs Herapath and Miss Daisy Herapath alighted and fell into the arms—or rather, civilly shook hands with their son.

"Hullo, Daisy! Marky's here. There he comes. Here she is, Mr Railsford; here's Daisy! I say, Daisy," added he, in a confidential whisper, "you'd better not kiss him before all the fellows. Wait till you get up to our study."

Railsford arrived before this piece of fraternal counsel was ended, and solved the difficulty by quietly shaking hands all round, and asking Mrs Herapath if she had had a comfortable journey.

Arthur had the mortification of seeing five out of his six cabs drive gaily off under his very nose with other fellows' people inside; and his temper was also further ruffled when all his porters waited on him at the door of the sixth for their fee; however, he had the presence of mind to tell them to wait till he came back in the evening, and then, slamming the cab door, hopped up on the box beside the driver—no Grandcourt boy had ever been known to ride inside a four-wheeler with his people—and drove off.

It was a gay scene in the great quadrangle that summer morning—fathers, mothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts were all mixed up in one glorious crowd, with their boys mounting guard over them and introducing them right and left to all the other boys within call.

Mr and Mrs Herapath, like their son, were up to the business, and quietly led the way through the throng towards the hall where the speeches were to be delivered and where, as they knew by experience, it was better to look for a seat too early than too late.

Arthur and Dig, however, were by no means disposed to waste Daisy in so unprofitable an occupation, and therefore haled her off to their study. Some of us, who know the young lady, are able to excuse the pride with which these two gallant tenders towed their prize into port—for as Dig shared Arthur's study, of course he shared his sister on this occasion. It wanted a very few dropping and facetious introductions on the way, such as, "Daisy, you know, my sister," or "What cheer, Sherry?—ever hear of Chuckey?" or, "No good, Maple, my boy, bespoke!" to set the rumour going that Daisy Herapath, Marky's "spoon," was come, and was "on show" in Herapath's study.

To her credit be it said, the young lady bore her ordeal with exemplary patience and good-humour. She liked everything she saw. She admired the study so much. What a pretty look-out on the old square—what a luxurious lunch—ah! Arthur had not forgotten her weakness for marmalade—and so on.

The boys voted her a brick; and Arthur went so far as to say he hoped she and Marky would fix it up in time for her to come and be dame of the house before he left.

All this time—would you believe it?—the poor Master of the Shell was sitting in his study, very bashful, and wondering whether he would get a chance of speaking to Daisy during the day at all. She had been spirited away from under his very eyes, in the most truculent manner, by her graceless brother; and it seemed very doubtful whether he would be allowed—

Mrs Hastings at this moment knocked at the door and handed in a dainty little note addressed to "Mark Railsford, Esquire," from the doctor's niece.

"Dear Mr Railsford," wrote Miss Violet, "will you and Miss Herapath join us at lunch before the speeches? I should so like to make her acquaintance.

"Yours truly,—

"Violet Ponsford."

So Railsford, armed with this authority, sallied forth boldly to recapture his Daisy. He thought he knew where to find her, and was not mistaken. The little impromptu lunch was in full swing when he entered the festive study. He had rarely felt so embarrassed, and the manifest excitement of his two pupils at his arrival did not tend to restore him to ease.

And now occurred a wonderful case of presence of mind on the part of two small and tender boys. No sooner had Railsford entered, and somewhat hesitatingly advanced to the table, preparatory to stating his business, than Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, winked at Arthur Herapath, Esquire, and Arthur Herapath, Esquire, kicked Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, under the table; after which both rose abruptly to their feet and bolted from the room, making the corridor echo with their laughter!

They explained afterwards that they wanted to bag front seats for the speeches; and that, no doubt, was a highly satisfactory reason.

At twelve o'clock, when the Earl of Somebody, and Sir Brown Robinson, and the other local celebrities and governors of the school entered the hall, that usually dingy room was packed from end to end by a brilliant and expectant crowd.

The radiant faces of the boys peeped out from among the phalanges of their no less radiant people. The prize boys on the front benches kept up a running fire of talk and cheering; the masters in their gowns beamed right and left, as if all of them put together could not give a fellow a hundred lines if he asked for it; and the college servants, grouped at the doors, smiled as if no cloud had ever ruffled their temper since last speech-day: while the doctor, as he rose, resplendent in his academical robes, and called for silence, looked as if no more solemn question had engaged his attention all the term than the arrangement of his strings and the droop of the scarlet hood on his back.

Then speech-day began. My readers hardly want me to describe so familiar a scene. They will be able to picture to themselves, better than I can picture it for them, how Smedley was cheered when he got up to deliver the English Oration in honour of the old school; and how he blushed and ran short of breath when he came to the quotation from Milton at the end, which had something about a Violet in it!—how, when Ainger rose to give the Greek Speech, his own fellows rose at him amid cries of "Well run, sir!" "Well hit!" "Well fielded!" and cheered every sentence of the Greek, though they had not an idea what it was about—how Barnworth was similarly encouraged through his Latin Oration with cries of "Jump it out!" "One inch more!" mingled sometimes with "False quantity!" "Speak up, prompter!"—how, after the speechifying was done, the examiners rose and made their reports, which nobody listened to and everyone voted a bore.

How, next, Dr Ponsford rose with a rustle of his silk gown, which was heard all over the hall in the dead silence, and proceeded to tell the Earl of Somebody and the other distinguished guests what everybody knew, namely, that the school had now come to the end of another year's work, and etcetera, etcetera. But how, when he took up his list, and the tables containing the prizes were wheeled forward and uncovered, attention once more awoke, the boys on the prize benches settled their cravats, and felt if their hair-partings were all right, and then sat back in their places with a delightful simulation of indifference—

The reader knows all about it; he has been through it. He knows the cheers which hailed the announcement that Smedley was going up to Oxford with a Balliol scholarship in his pocket, and that Ainger had won one of the minor scholarships at George's. He does not need to be told of the shouts which greeted the appearance of boy after boy from Railsford's house on the platform steps to receive his prize; or of the grim smile on the doctor's face as a youthful voice from the prize benches, forgetting the solemnity of the occasion, shouted, "Marky again, bravo us!" Nor when presently Arthur Herapath was called up to receive a piece of paper informing him that he was the winner of half the Swift Exhibition, or when, close behind, Digby Oakshott—the doctor scurrilously omitted his full title—trotted up to accept the Shell History prize—can anyone who has been in such a scene before fail to imagine the cheers and laughter and chaff which the public appearance of these two notorious characters evoked?

So the ceremony went on—and the reader, I think, can bear me out when I say that, after an hour of it, I distinctly saw—for I was there, near the front—several ladies yawn behind their fans, and otherwise show signs of fatigue, so that when the poor little Babies, who had done as honest work as anybody, toddled up to get their little prizes, scarcely anybody looked at them, and were glad when they were polished off. Which I thought a shame; and resolved, whenever I am head-master of a public school, I shall turn my prize list upside down and call the Babies up first.