For a couple of days fellows continued to talk about the skit on the eleven, and to hazard guesses as to who was the writer. As the majority, however, pronounced it "a dirty shame," and spoke of the author as "some mean skunk," the poet wisely concluded to conceal his identity, and by the end of the week the matter was, for the time being, practically forgotten.



CHAPTER XV.

THE READING-ROOM RIOT.

Thurston followed up his withdrawal from the football team by a number of other actions which clearly showed a determination to spend what was known to be his last term at Ronleigh in living at open enmity with those who had once been his friends and associates. He never played unless it was in one of the rough-and-ready practice games, composed chiefly of stragglers, who, from being kept in and various other causes, were too late for the regular pick-ups, and came drifting on to the field later in the afternoon. He severed his connection with the debating society, and shunning the society of his comrades in the Sixth, was seen more frequently than ever hobnobbing with Gull and Hawley, or lounging about in conversation with Noaks and Mouler.

Fletcher senior, a mean, double-faced fellow, continued, as the saying goes, "to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds."

"It's an awful pity about old 'Thirsty,'" he would say to his brother prefects. "I try to keep him a bit straight; but upon my word, if he will go on being so friendly with such cads as Gull and Noaks, I shall chuck him altogether."

The speaker's methods of endeavouring to keep his chum straight were, to say the least of it, not very effective, and, if anything, rather more calculated to encourage him still further in his descent along the downward road.

"Look here!" said Fletcher, as they sat one evening talking in Thurston's study: "don't you think you'd better make peace with Allingford and the rest, and be a nice white sheep again, instead of a giddy old black one? I can tell you at present they don't look upon you as being a particular credit to the Sixth."

"I don't care what they think; they're a beastly set of prigs, and I'll have nothing more to do with them—with Allingford especially."

"Well, of course," answered Fletcher, with an air of resignation, "the quarrel's yours and not mine. I must own that I think Allingford made a great deal of unnecessary fuss over that Black Swan business, and acted very shabbily in making you send in your resignation just before the holidays. There's something, too, that I can't understand about the doctor's not confirming your re-election; and I think there ought to have been some further attempt made to get you to remain in the team— you did a lot of good service last season. However, my advice is, Put your pride in your pocket, and return to the fold."

Young Carton had shown that he possessed a certain amount of insight into character when he told Diggory that Thurston was a dangerous fellow to cross. The ex-prefect's brow darkened as Fletcher enumerated this list of real or imaginary grievances, and at the conclusion of the latter's speech there was a short silence.

"Yes," said Thurston, suddenly making the fender jump and rattle with a vicious kick. "Allingford's got his knife in me; he's bent on spoiling my life here. But that's a game two can play at. I've got a plan or two in my head, and I'll take the change out of him and those other prigs before the term's finished."

Grundy still continued to brag and swagger in the Lower Fourth, but his attitude towards Jack Vance suddenly underwent a change. Towards the latter he assumed quite a friendly bearing, and though still remaining a stanch Thurstonian, refrained from making himself aggressively obnoxious to the Triple Alliance. The hatchet had been buried for nearly a fortnight when an event happened which caused Ronleigh College to be once more convulsed with excitement and party feeling—a certain air of mystery which pervaded the whole affair tending to considerably increase the interest which the occurrence itself awakened.

Allingford had not, perhaps, been altogether wise in his choice of Lucas as keeper of the reading-room. The latter was a studious, hard-working boy in the Fifth, whose parents were known to be in comparatively poor circumstances, and the captain had named him in preference to Ferris, thinking that the guinea which was given as remuneration to the holder of this post, as well as to the two librarians, would be specially acceptable to one who seldom had the means to purchase the books which he longed to possess.

The duties of the keeper of the reading-room were to receive and take charge of the papers and magazines, to keep the accounts, and to be nominally responsible for the order of the room. I say nominally, as the law relating to absolute silence was never actually enforced; and as long as the members amused themselves in a reasonably quiet manner, and without turning the place into a bear-garden, they were allowed to converse over their games of chess or draughts, and exchange their opinions on the news of the day.

Lucas was, if one may say it, a little too conscientious in the execution of his duties, and rather apt to be fussy and a trifle overbearing in his manner. He posted copies of the rules on each of the four walls of the room, and insisted on decorous behaviour and perfect silence. The consequence was that he soon became the butt of innumerable jokes: fellows said they weren't in school, and meant to enjoy themselves.

"Rats" hit on the idea of carrying in an old newspaper under his coat. This he surreptitiously produced, and pretended to read as though it belonged to the room. At a favourable moment, with an exclamation of, "Well, this is a rotten paper!" he suddenly crunched the sheet up in his hands and tore it into fifty pieces. Lucas, naturally imagining that the property of the room was being destroyed, rushed up exploding with wrath. An explanation followed, and the whole assembly went off into fits of merriment, at the latter's expense.

By the time this trick was worn out, other waggish gentlemen had introduced the practice of dropping wax matches on the floor and treading on them, and of hunting an imaginary moth—an irresistibly humorous proceeding, in which the participators rushed about brandishing books and magazines, ever and anon crying, "There he is!" and smiting on the head some quiet, unoffending reader. Some evil-minded young miscreant went so far as to put bits of india-rubber on the top of the stove, the consequence being that in a short time a mysterious smell arose of such a fearful and distressing nature that every one was obliged to bolt out into the passage.

Those boys who at the time of the elections had formed the rank and file of the Thurstonian party, saw here an opportunity for showing their resentment of what they still chose to consider unfair conduct on Allingford's part. As a result, so they said, of the captain's favouritism, Lucas had been forced into a position for which he was entirely un-fitted; and with the expressed determination "not to stand him at any price," they proved themselves ever ready to assist in keeping up a constant repetition of the disturbances which have just been described.

These games, it need hardly be said, were not carried on when any of the prefects or members of the Sixth happened to be present; but during the half-hour between the end of tea and the commencement of preparation, when it rarely happened that any of the seniors put in an appearance, the conduct of the place went steadily from bad to worse. Lucas lost his head and lost his temper, and in doing so lost all control of his charge; and at last things were brought to a climax in the manner we are about to describe.

At the back of the room was one of those short desks which can be changed at will into a seat, the top part falling over and making a back-rest, while the form remains stationary. In connection with this article of furniture Gull one evening introduced a new pastime, which he called putting fellows in the stocks, and which consisted in decoying innocent small boys into taking a seat, then suddenly pushing them backwards on to the floor, and imprisoning their feet between the form and the reversible desk—a position from which they only extricated themselves with considerable difficulty.

Lucas made a couple of attempts to interfere and stop the proceedings, and when at length, for the third time, a thud and a shout of laughter announced that still another victim had fallen into the trap, he rose in wrath, and ordered Gull to leave the room.

"I shan't," returned the other. "Keep to yourself, and mind your own business."

"That's just what I'm doing; you know the rules as well as I do. It's my business to keep order in this room."

"Rubbish! Who do you think cares for your rules, you jack-in-office?"

"Will you leave the room?"

"No, of course I won't. If you want to act 'chucker-out,' you'd better try it on."

In desperation Lucas resolved to play his last card. "Look here, Gull," he said, rising from his seat. "You know I'm not your match in size or strength, or you wouldn't challenge me to fight; but this I will do: unless you leave the room, I shall go at once and report you to Dr. Denson."

The offender, seeing perhaps that this was no empty threat, evidently considered it the wiser plan not to risk an interview with the head-master.

"Oh, keep your wig on!" he answered, with a scornful laugh. "I shouldn't like to make you prove yourself a sneak as well as a coward. I'm going in a minute."

The assembly, who for the most part considered the stocks joke very good fun, and were possessed with all the traditional schoolboy hatred for anything in the shape of telling tales, showed their disapproval with a good deal of booing and hissing as Gull sauntered out of the room, and Lucas bent over his accounts with the despairing sense of having lost instead of gained by the encounter.

It soon became evident that the matter was not to be allowed to drop without some show of feeling, for on the following morning the unfortunate official was greeted with jeers and uncomplimentary remarks wherever he went.

Just before tea Diggory and Jack Vance were crossing the quadrangle on their way from the gymnasium to the schoolroom, when they were accosted by Fletcher junior.

"I say," remarked the latter, in rather a knowing manner, "if you want to see a lark, come to the reading-room before 'prep.'"

"Why, what's up?"

"Oh, never mind; don't tell any one I told you," and the speaker passed on.

"Shall we go?" said Diggory.

"We might as well," answered his companion, laughing. "I wonder what the joke is! Another moth-hunt, or some more of that 'stocks' business, I suppose."

When the two friends entered the reading-room, it presented an unusually quiet and orderly appearance. About twenty boys were seated at the various desks and tables, all occupied with games of chess or draughts, or in the perusal of magazines and papers. Even Grundy, who never read anything but an occasional novel, was poring over the advertisement columns of The Daily News, with apparently great interest, while young Fletcher was equally engrossed in the broad pages of The Times. An attempt to put "Rats" in the stocks utterly failed, from the fact that those who were usually foremost in acts of disorder refused to render any assistance, and even went so far as to nip the disturbance in the bud with angry ejaculations of "Here, dry up!"—"Stop it, can't you?"

"I say," murmured Diggory, after sitting for a quarter of an hour listlessly turning over the pages of a magazine, "Fletcher's sold us about that lark; I don't see the use of staying here any longer."

Hardly had the words been uttered when some one in the passage outside crowed like a cock. There was a rustling of newspapers, and the next instant all four gas-jets were turned out simultaneously, and the room was plunged in total darkness. What followed it would be difficult to describe. The door was flung open, there was an inrush of boys from the passage, and the place became a perfect pandemonium. Tables were overturned, books and magazines went whizzing about in the darkness, a grand "scrum" seemed in progress round Lucas's desk, while amid the chorus of whoops, whistles, and cat-calls the latter's voice was distinctly audible, crying in angry tones,—

"Leave me alone, you blackguards; let go, I say!"

Jack and Diggory listened in amazement to the uproar with which they suddenly found themselves surrounded, and not wishing to risk the chance of having a form or a table upset on their toes, remained seated in their corner, wondering how the affair would end.

At length, piercing the general uproar, came the distant clang, clang of the bell for preparation. The tumult suddenly subsided, and there was a rush for the passage. Hardly had this stampede been accomplished when some one struck a match and lit the gas-jet nearest the door: it was Gull.

He stood for a moment looking round the room with a sardonic smile upon his face, evidently very well pleased with the sight which met his gaze. The place certainly presented the appearance of a town which had been bombarded, carried by storm, and pillaged for a week by some foreign foe. Most of the furniture was upset or pulled out of place, magazines and papers lay strewn about in every direction, ink was trickling in black rivulets about the floor, and draughts and chess men seemed to have been scattered broadcast all over the place. In addition to our two friends, three other boys, who had evidently taken no active part in the proceedings, still remained at some seats next to the wall; while Lucas, with hair dishevelled, waistcoat torn open, and collar flying loose, stood flushed and panting amid the debris of his overturned desk.

"Well, I'm sure!" said Gull, with a short laugh; "you fellows seem to have been having rather a bit of fun here this evening. I thought I heard a row, and I was coming to see what it was; only just when I got to the door, about fifty chaps bounced out and nearly knocked me down.— What have they been up to, eh, Lucas?"

"Never you mind," answered the unfortunate official, choking with rage; "the bell's gone, so all of you clear out."

"Well, you can't blame me this journey," retorted Gull, calmly striking another match and lighting the next gas-jet. "It seems to me this is a little too much of a good thing. You'll have to lick a few of them, Lucas, my boy; and if you can't manage it yourself, you'd better get some one else to do it for you—your friend Allingford, for instance."

The master on duty in the big schoolroom had to call several times for silence before the subdued hum of muttered conversation entirely ceased. Every one had heard of the reading-room riot, and was anxious to discuss the matter with his companions.

"Who did it? who did it?" was the question asked on all sides.

"I don't know," would be the answer. "They say it wasn't the fellows who were in the room—some of them put the gas out; but it was a lot of other chaps, who rushed in after, who did all the damage and caused such 'ructions.'"

"It seems to me," remarked Diggory to his two chums, "that it was a put-up job, all arranged beforehand."

"Then who d'you think planned it?" asked Mugford.

"I don't know, but I believe Gull had a hand in it."

"Oh, I don't think that," answered Jack Vance. "He came in and lit the gas; if he'd been in it, he'd have skedaddled with the rest."

"Um—would he?" returned Diggory, nodding his head in a sagacious manner; "I'm rather inclined to think he came in on purpose."

By the end of supper a fresh rumour spread which caused the affair to assume a still graver and more important aspect. Lucas had reported the whole thing to the head-master, and the latter had expressed his intention of inquiring into it on the following day. The truth of these tidings was proved beyond all possibility of doubt when, next morning at breakfast, an announcement was made that the school would assemble immediately after the boys left the hall, instead of gathering, as usual, at nine o'clock.

Every one knew what this meant. The subject had been discussed for hours in most of the dormitories on the previous evening, and when Dr. Denson ascended his throne there was no necessity for him to strike the small hand-bell—the usual signal for silence; an expectant hush pervaded the whole of the big room, showing clearly the interest which every one felt in the business on hand.

"I need hardly say," began the doctor, in his clear, decisive manner, "that my object in calling you together is to inquire into a disgraceful piece of disorder which took place in the reading-room last night. I am astonished that such outrageous behaviour should be possible in what, up to the present time, I have always been proud to regard as a community of gentlemen. Such an offence against law and order cannot be allowed to pass unpunished. I feel certain that the greater number of those here present had no share in it, and I shall give the culprits a chance of proving themselves at all events sufficiently honourable to prevent their schoolfellows suffering the consequences which have arisen from the folly of individuals. Let those boys who are responsible for what occurred last evening stand up!"

With one exception nobody stirred; a solitary small boy rose to his feet, and in spite of the gravity of the situation a subdued titter ran through the assembly. Apparently the whole of the row and disturbance of the previous evening was the handiwork of one single boy, and that boy the youthful "Rats."

"Well, Rathson," said the head-master grimly, "am I to understand that you single-handed overturned forms and tables, scattered books and papers to the four winds, and nearly tore the clothes off another boy's back?"

"N—no, sir," answered "Rats" plaintively.

"Then will you explain exactly what you did do?"

"I was reading—and the gas went out—and some one emptied a box of chess-men over my head—and I—I hit him—and then there was a lot of pushing, and I pushed, and—" concluded "Rats" apologetically— "and I think I shouted."

"H'm!" said the doctor; "so that's all you did. Sit down, sir.—Lucas!"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember what boys were in the reading-room last night?"

"Yes, sir, but I don't think they were responsible for what happened; it was done by others who came in from outside."

There was a silence.

"I ask once more," said the head-master, "what boys took part in this disturbance? let them stand up!"

Once more young "Rats" alone pleaded guilty.

"Very well, then," continued the doctor sternly; "the whole school will be punished: there will be no half-holiday on Wednesday afternoon, and the reading-room will be closed for a fortnight.—Sit down, Rathson; you are the only boy among the many who must have been connected with this affair—the only one, I say, who has any sense of manliness or honour. Write me a hundred lines, and bring them to me to-morrow morning."

The prospect of having to work on Wednesday afternoon caused, the boys themselves to take up the doctor's inquiry, and the query, "Who did it?" became the burning question of the hour.

The riot had evidently been carefully planned beforehand, and the plot arranged in such a manner that those who took part in it might do so without being recognized.

It was impossible to discover who really were the culprits, though the majority of the boys put it down as having been done by "some of 'Thirsty's' lot," and as being a further proof of the latter's well-known animosity towards Allingford, who had, of course, appointed Lucas as keeper of the room.

"Look here!" said Diggory, accosting Fletcher Two in the playground: "what made you tell us to come to the reading-room last night? How did you know there was going to be a row?"

"I didn't," murmured the other warily. "All I knew was that they were going to put 'Rats' in the 'stocks;' I hadn't the faintest idea there was going to be such a fine old rumpus."

"Umph! hadn't you?" muttered Diggory, turning on his heel; "I know better."



CHAPTER XVI.

THE CIPHER LETTER.

The reading-room row, as it was called, had pretty well blown over, when one morning Diggory accosted Jack Vance and Mugford, who were both seated at the latter's desk, sharpening their knives on an oil-stone.

"I say, you fellows, look what I've found." As he spoke, he laid on the desk a slip of paper; it was evidently a scrap torn out of some exercise-book, and inscribed upon it were several lines of capital letters, all jumbled together without any apparent object in their arrangement, and, to be more exact, placed as follows:—

NVVGRMGSVTBNDSVMGSVUVOOLD HKZHHLMGLHFKKVIGSVGDLXZM HLUDZGVIZIGHGZMWRMTRMHRW VGSVXFKYLZIWFMWVIGSVHGZRIH.

"Well, what is there funny about that?" asked Jack; "it looks to me as if some one had been practising making capitals."

"Is it a puzzle?" inquired Mugford.

"No, but I'll tell you what I think it is," answered Diggory, sitting down, and speaking in a low, mysterious tone: "it's a letter written in cipher."

"A letter?" repeated Mugford, glancing at the paper. "Why, how could any one read that rubbish—NVVG?"

"Of course they can, if they know the key. Didn't I say it was written in cipher, you duffer? Every letter you see there stands for something different."

"Then why didn't they write the proper letters at once, and have done with it?" grumbled Mugford.

"Because, you prize ass," retorted Diggory, with pardonable asperity, "they didn't want it read."

"Then if they didn't want it read, why did they write it at all?" exclaimed Mugford triumphantly.

"Oh, shut up! you're cracked, you—"

"Look here," interrupted Jack Vance, "where did you find the thing?"

"Why, you know the window in the box-room that looks out on the 'quad;' well, there's a little crack under the ledge between the wooden frame and the wall, and this note was stuck in there. I should never have seen it, only I was watching a spider crawling up the wall, and it ran into the hole close to the end of the paper. Some fellows must be using the place as a sort of post-office; don't you remember Fred Acton made one in the wainscotting at The Birches? only these fellows have invented a cipher. Well, I'm going to find it out, and read this note, just for the lark."

"How are you going to do it, though? I don't see it's possible to read a thing like this; you can't tell where one word ends and a fresh one begins."

"There is a way of finding out a cipher," answered Diggory; "it tells you how to do it in that book that we bought when Mug had his things sold by auction at Chatford."

"What, in Poe's tales?" asked Mugford. "Yes; in one of the stories called 'The Gold Bug.' Where is the book?"

"I lent it to Maxton, but I should think he's finished it by this time. I'll go and see."

"All right," said Diggory, pocketing the slip of paper; "you get it, and then I can show you what I mean. Come on, Jack; let's go out."

The two friends were just rising from the form on which they had been sitting, when they were accosted by Browse, who, strolling up with a pair of dilapidated slippers on his feet, which caused him to walk as though he were skating, inquired in drawling tones, "I say, have either of you kids got a watch-key?"

Jack Vance handed him the required article, which happened to be of the kind which fit all watches.

The Sixth Form "sap" was very short-sighted, and proceeded to wind up his timepiece, holding it close to his spectacles throughout the operation.

"I can't think how it is," he continued, in his sing-song tone, "I'm always losing my key. I've had two new ones already this term. I always stick them in a place where I think they're sure not to get lost, and then I forget where I put them. Thanks awfully."

"What a queer old codger Browse is!" remarked Diggory, as the big fellow moved away; "no one would ever think he was so clever."

"No," answered Jack Vance. "By-the-bye, did you hear that he had another row with 'Thirsty' last night?"

"No; what about?"

"Oh, the same thing as before. Some fellows were making a beastly row in Thurston's study, and Browse couldn't work, so he threatened if they weren't quiet he'd report them to the doctor. 'Thirsty' came out in an awful wax, and said for two pins he'd knock Browse down; and young Collis, who was standing at the top of the stairs, says he believes he'd have done it if some of the other fellows in the Sixth hadn't come out and interfered."

In the course of the afternoon Diggory secured Mugford's copy of Poe's tales, and (sad to relate) spent a good part of that evening's preparation in trying to unravel the secret of the mysterious missive which he had found in the box-room. So intent was he on solving the problem that, instead of going down to supper with the majority of his companions, he remained seated at his desk, poring over the experiments which he was making according to directions given in the famous story of "The Gold Bug."

"Well, how are you getting on ?" inquired Jack Vance, as the crowd came straggling back from the dining-hall.

"Oh, pretty well," answered the other. "The first thing you have to do is to find E; it's the letter which occurs most frequently. Well, in this case V is the letter which comes oftenest—there are fourteen of them—so V is E. Then, when you know what E is, you search for the word 'the.' There are certain to be several 'the's' in the piece; so you look for instances in which the same two letters come before E, or, in this case, before V. Well, here it is, G S V, five times; so you are pretty certain that G S V is 'the,' or, in other words, that G is T, S is H, and V is E. That's as far as I've got at present; but I mean to worry out the rest of it to-morrow."

While Diggory was holding forth in the big schoolroom on his methods of reading a cipher, a conversation of a very different character, and on a matter of grave importance, was taking place in the study of the school captain.

Allingford and John Acton were seated in front of the former's little fireplace talking over matters connected with the football club. Suddenly there was a sound of hurrying feet in the passage; the next instant the door burst open, and in bounced Browse. The two prefects gazed at him for a moment in open-mouthed astonishment; then Acton broke the silence, exclaiming, "Why, Browse, what's the matter?"

The "sap" certainly presented an extraordinary appearance. His spectacles were gone; his hair was pasted all over his face, as though he had just come up from a long dive; his clothes were torn, and in a state of the wildest disorder; while the strangest part of all was that from head to foot he seemed soaking wet, drenched through and through with water, which dripped from his garments as he stood.

"Why, man alive!" cried Allingford, "what have you been up to?"

"It's those blackguards!" gasped Browse, choking with rage, and shaken for once in a way out of his usual drawl; "it's that Thurston and his crew—I know it was!"

"But what was? what's the matter?"

With some little difficulty the two prefects at length succeeded in extracting from their excited comrade an account of his wrongs; even then such an amount of cross-questioning was necessary that it will be best to make no attempt at a verbatim report, but rather to give the reader a more concise version of the story.

From Browse's statement it appeared that just before supper some one had come to his study, saying: "Smeaton wants you in the 'lab;' look sharp!" The door had only been opened about a couple of inches, and then closed again. From the few words thus spoken Browse did not recognize the voice; but thinking that his particular friend Smeaton (another tremendous worker) was engaged in some important experiments, and needed his assistance, he hurried away, never dreaming but that the message he had received was genuine.

In order to reach the laboratory, it was necessary to traverse the box-room and the gymnasium, both of which were in darkness, the lights being turned out by the prefect on duty when the boys assembled for preparation.

Across the first of these chambers Browse groped his way in safety. Hardly, however, had he crossed the threshold of the second, when he was suddenly seized and held fast by several strong pairs of hands. His indignant expostulations were met with a titter of suppressed laughter; he was roughly forced down upon his knees, and while in this position what seemed like two buckets of cold water were emptied over his devoted head. This having been done, he was dragged to his feet, thrust back into the box-room, and the door leading into the gymnasium was slammed to and locked on the inside. From first to last not a word had been spoken, and at the very commencement of the struggle Browse's spectacles had been knocked off. These two circumstances had entirely prevented him from recognizing the shadowy figures of his assailants. He made one attempt to force the door open, but finding it securely fastened, had come straight away to the captain's study.

"It's that Thurston and some of his gang," he repeated in conclusion; "they did it to pay me out for interfering with their noisy meetings."

Allingford and John Acton sprang to their feet. The idea that the rowdy element should be so powerful in Ronleigh that a Sixth Form boy could with impunity be seized and drenched with cold water, was not very pleasing to one who was largely responsible for the order of the school, and the captain's face was as black as thunder.

"All right!" he exclaimed; "leave this to me. Go and change your clothes."

The two prefects hurried down the passage.

"Wait a minute," said Allingford. "Which is Thurston's study?"

Acton knocked at the door; and receiving no answer, pushed it open and looked in. The room was empty.

"Come on," cried Allingford; "the 'gym!' They may be there still."

They rushed down the stairs, scattering a group of small boys who were roasting chestnuts at the gas-jet in the passage, and on through the box-room, but only to find the door on the other side standing wide open, and the gymnasium itself silent and deserted—two empty water-cans, lying in a big pool of wet on the cement floor, being the only remaining traces of the recent outrage.

"They're gone," said Acton. "What shall we do?"

"We'll find one of them, at all events," replied his companion; and returning once more to the neighbourhood of the studies, he shouted,—

"Thurston!"

There was a faint "Hullo!" and a moment later a door opened half-way down the passage.

"Well, what d'you want?"

Allingford walked quickly forward. "Look here," he demanded sternly, "where have you been? What have you been doing?"

"Doing!" echoed Thurston; "why, I've been sitting here for the last two hours with old Smeaton. I asked him to let me come and work in his study to-night. There's some of this Ovid I can't get on with, and he promised he'd help me out with it if I'd tell him what it was I didn't understand."

The captain hesitated a moment, rather nonplussed by this unexpected reply. "I believe you know something about this affair with Browse," he continued. "Who did it?"

"Who did what?" demanded Thurston snappishly. "If you mean when he came banging at my study door last night—"

"No, I don't mean that," interrupted Allingford. "I mean this blackguard's trick that was played on him to-night."

"I don't know what you're talking about," retorted Thurston angrily. "Look here, Allingford, I'll thank you not to call me a blackguard for nothing, for I suppose that's what you're driving at. If you don't think I'm speaking the truth, ask Smeaton. I suppose you'll take his word, if you won't take mine."

Smeaton, whose veracity it was impossible to doubt, confirmed the last speaker's assertions, and Allingford and Acton were forced to beat a retreat, feeling that they had certainly been worsted in the encounter.

"What's to be done?" asked Acton, as they re-entered the captain's study.

"I don't know," answered the other, flinging himself into a chair. "The only thing I can see is to report it to the doctor."

"Oh, I shouldn't do that; it's more a piece of personal spite than any disorder and breach of rule, like that reading-room affair. I think it's a thing which ought to be put down by the fellows themselves. Who was in Thurston's study last night?"

"I don't know. It may have been those fellows Gull and Hawley, but you can't accuse them without some evidence; you see what I got just now for tackling Thurston. Ever since the elections there seem to be a lot of fellows bent on bringing the place to the dogs. Thurston's hand and glove with the whole lot of them, and it's hard to say who did this thing to Browse."

A report of what had happened was rapidly spreading all over the school. One by one the other prefects dropped in to the captain's study to talk the matter over. Most of them were inclined to agree with Acton in considering it a thing to be taken up by the boys themselves, and the discussion was continued till bedtime.

"Well, I'll tell you what I think I'd better do," said Allingford, preparing to wish his companions good-night. "I'll report it to the doctor, and ask him not to take any steps in the matter until we've had a chance of inquiring into it ourselves."

The story of Browse's mishap, as we have just said, soon passed from mouth to mouth, until it was common property throughout the college. The remarks which the news elicited were often of an entirely opposite nature, according to the character of the boys who made them. Noaks and Mouler laughed aloud, declaring it a rare good joke; but to the credit of the Ronleians of that generation be it said, the majority shook their heads, and muttered, "Beastly shame!" "What'll be done?" was the question asked on all sides. "Will it be reported to the doctor?"

"If it is," said "Rats," "we shall lose another half-holiday. Confound those fellows, whoever they are! I should like to see them all jolly well kicked."

On the following day the first assembly for morning school passed without anything happening, though every one looked rather anxiously towards the head-master's throne as Dr. Denson took his seat.

The brazen voice of the bell had just proclaimed the eleven o'clock interval, when the Triple Alliance, hurrying with their companions of the Lower Fourth along the main corridor leading to the schoolroom, found that the passage was nearly blocked by a large crowd of boys standing round the notice-board.

"Hullo!" said Diggory, "another rhyme?"

This time, however, the placard was in good plain prose, and ran as follows:—

"NOTICE.

"A meeting of the whole school will take place directly after dinner in the gymnasium. A full attendance is urgently requested, as the matter for consideration is of great importance.

"A. R. ALLINGFORD."

"Humph," muttered Fletcher senior to himself, as he turned on his heel after reading the notice, "the fat's in the fire now, and no mistake."



CHAPTER XVII.

DIGGORY READS THE CIPHER.

The gymnasium was filled with a dense crowd of boys; "Rats," Maxton, and some other members of the Lower Fourth were fighting for seats on the parallel bars, and throughout tho whole assembly there was a subdued murmur of interest and expectation. The last gathering of the kind had been a court-martial held some two years previously on a boy suspected of stealing. Old stagers, in a patronizing manner, related what had happened to their younger comrades, adding, "What, weren't you here then? Well, you are a kid!" and forgetting to mention that at the time they themselves were wearing knickerbockers, and doing simple arithmetic in the lowest form.

At one end of the room was a big chest containing dumb-bells and single-sticks, and Allingford, mounting on the top of this as the last stragglers from the dining-hall joined the assembly, called for silence.

There was no attempt at eloquence or self-assertion in Allingford's remarks; brief they were almost to bluntness, but well suited to the audience to whom they were addressed. It was the old, well-tried captain of Ronleigh who spoke, and the boys of Ronleigh who listened, and the manner in which the words were given and received might have reminded one of a speech of Sir Colin Campbell's in the Indian Mutiny, and the answer of the Highlanders he addressed:—

"Ninety-third, you are my own lads; I rely on you to do yourselves and me credit."

"Ay, ay, Sir Colin; ye ken us, and we ken you."

"I think you all know," began the captain, "the reason of this meeting being called together. Last night Browse was set on in this room—in the dark, mind you—knocked down, and drenched with cold water. Some fellows may think it a good joke. I don't; I think the fellows who did it were cads and cowards. I reported the matter to the doctor, and he consented to act in accordance with the wishes of the prefects, and leave the matter in the hands of the boys themselves rather than inquire into it himself, which would probably only have meant another punishment for the whole school." ("Hear, hear!")

"Now, what I want to say is this. I've been here a good many years— longer than any one, except Oaks and Rowlands and two or three more. I love the place, and I'm proud of it. I'd sooner be captain of Ronleigh than of any other public school you could mention" (cheers); "but I tell you plainly, the place is going down. There's been a good deal too much of this rowdy element showing lately, and it's high time it was put a stop to.

"Some of you, I know, have lately taken a dislike to me, and think I don't act rightly." ("No, no!") "If I'm to blame, I'm sorry for it, for I've always tried to do my best. I ask you not to look upon this matter as a personal affair, either of mine or of any of the other prefects, but to consider only the welfare of the school. I say again that if Ronleigh is to retain its reputation, and be kept from going to the dogs, it's high time these underhanded bits of foul play like the reading-room row and this attack on Browse were put a stop to; and I beg you all to join in taking measures to prevent anything of the kind occurring again in the future."

The speaker concluded his remarks amid a general outburst of applause.

"So we will," cried several voices; "three cheers for old Ally!"

"In my opinion," began Oaks, as soon as order was restored, "the first thing is to try to find out who did it; surely a fellow can't be set on by three or four others without somebody knowing something about it.— Haven't you yourself any idea who it was, Browse?"

"Well, I can't swear," answered Browse readily. "I couldn't see, because it was dark, and my spectacles were knocked off; but I'm pretty certain it was some of Thurston's lot—Gull, or Hawley, or some of those fellows. They did it because I complained when they kicked up a row and interfered with my work."

This reply created a great sensation, and the air was rent with a storm of groans, cheers, and hisses.

Oaks, who seemed to have taken upon himself the duties of counsel for the prosecution, held up his hand to procure silence.

"Shut up!" he exclaimed; "every one will be heard in time. Browse thinks it might have been Gull, Thurston, or Hawley.—Now, Gull, what have you got to say? Where were you last night?"

"In bed, asleep," answered Gull promptly.

There was a laugh.

"I don't mean that. What we want to know is, what were you doing after 'prep'?"

"Well, I was about some private business of my own."

"What was it?"

"I don't see why I should tell you all my private affairs."

"Well, in this instance we mean to know; so out with it. What were you doing directly after 'prep' last night?"

There was a hush of expectation. Every one thought an important disclosure was about to be made.

"All right," answered Gull calmly; "if you must know, I'll tell you. I was in the matron's room, getting her to sew two buttons on my waistcoat."

A roar of laughter interrupted the proceedings; the defence had scored heavily. Oaks was for the moment completely nonplussed, and Thurston seized the opportunity of making a counter-attack. He strode forward, and mounting the chest addressed the assembly as follows:—

"Gentlemen, however low Ronleigh may have sunk, there is still, I believe, left among us a certain amount of love of fair play, and therefore I ask you to give me a hearing. The saying goes, 'Give a dog a bad name and then hang him.' I'm a dog on which certain people have been good enough to bestow a bad name. I know I've got it, and to tell you the truth I don't much care. All the same, I don't see why I should be hung for a thing which is no fault of mine. You've just heard what Gull's had to say. I can prove that I was in Smeaton's study when this thing happened; and I daresay, if Hawley is to be cross-examined, he'll be able to show that he was somewhere else at the time. What I say, however, is this—that it's very unfair and unjust to practically accuse fellows of a thing without having some grounds for so doing. I don't want to brag, but there have been times, as, for instance, at the last Wraxby match" (cheers), "when the school thought well of me" (loud cheers). "Now I'm a black sheep; but there ought to be fair play for black sheep as well as for white ones." ("Hear, hear!") "Allingford said something about underhanded bits of foul play. Well, I, for one, am not afraid to be open and speak my mind. If the place is going to the dogs because of it's being continually in a state of disorder, then the fault lies with the prefects." (Sensation.) "They're the ones who ought to check it, and if they are incompetent, and can't do their duty, it's no excuse for their trying to shift the blame on to fellows who are innocent, but who happen to stand in their bad books."

The speech had just the effect which Thurston intended it should have. The English schoolboy has always been a zealous champion of "fair play," though sometimes misled in his ideas as to what the term really implies. A vague sense that the prefects were at fault, and that this inquiry was a blind to cover their shortcomings, spread through the meeting. Oaks was interrupted and prevented from questioning Hawley, and it seemed as though the good influence of Allingford's opening speech would be entirely lost, and that the meeting would bring about a still more hostile attitude on the part of the rank and file towards those in authority.

The Thurstonians, however, attempting to make the most of this temporary triumph, met with an unexpected disaster, which quickly turned the changing tide of public opinion.

During a momentary pause in the hubbub which followed Thurston's address, Fletcher senior, with the usual smile upon his face, began to speak.

"Thurston has just said that as regards these rows the fault lies with the prefects, and that they are culpable in trying to shift the blame on to other fellows without first getting sufficient evidence to warrant their so doing. As one of the prefects, I think it only fair to myself to mention that I was not in favour of this meeting being called. I suggested to my friend Allingford that this matter should be allowed to rest until some inquiries had been made—"

"Stop!" cried the captain sternly. The two lines were deepening between his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth were drawn down. The boys had seen that look before, as he stood at the wicket when runs were few and the bowling dangerous. "Stop! Speak the truth: you're not my friend."

"Allingford says we are not friends," continued the speaker, with the same eternal smile upon his lips. "I'm sorry to hear it. I know I've always tried to be his friend, ever—"

"You're lying!" interrupted the other sharply. "Take care, or I'll prove it!"

There was a dead silence all over the room. Fletcher did not know what was coming, and though he felt uneasy, he had gone too far to go back.

"I can't understand," he began, "why you should have this unkind feeling towards me. I can only repeat, in spite of what you say, that I am your friend."

"Very well," returned the other, with an angry flash in his eyes, "as it was partly an attack on myself, I had meant to have said nothing about it; but since you persist in your miserable hypocrisy, I'll expose you.—You remember," he continued, turning to the audience, and speaking with a ring of bitter scorn in his voice, "that paltry rhyme that was fastened on the notice-board after the Town match? Well, allow me to introduce you to the author of it. He was too modest to sign his name to it, but here he is, all the same—a fellow who tries to bring ridicule and contempt on his own side; who stabs a man in the dark, and in the daylight professes to be his friend."

A derisive groan rose from the crowd.

"You can't prove it!" retorted Fletcher, turning first white and then red.

"I can prove it up to the hilt. You had the confounded cheek to borrow from me the very book of songs you used when you wrote the parody, and you were fool enough to leave the rough copy in it when you brought it back. It's there now, in your writing. Shall I send for it? it's on my study table at this moment."

The culprit muttered something about it's being "only a joke," but his reply was lost amid a storm of hoots and hisses.

"Sneak!" cried one voice; "Turn him out!" yelled another; while the object of this outburst of animosity, recovering himself sufficiently to glance round with a contemptuous sneer on his face, fell back, and endeavoured to hide his confusion by entering into conversation with Gull and Thurston.

Fletcher had come a nasty cropper, and reaped what, sooner or later, is the inevitable reward of double-dealing.

Once more the sympathy of the meeting was enlisted on the side of Allingford and the prefects, and the crowd dispersed, resolved to discover, if possible, who had made the attack on Browse, and determined that such acts of disorder were not to be tolerated in the future.

"Hullo, old chap!" said Thurston, entering his friend's study a few moments later; "you made rather a mess of that speech of yours. I'm inclined to think you've damaged your reputation."

"I don't care," returned the other; "we're both leaving at the end of this term. As for Allingford, just let him look out: it'll be my turn to move next, and there's plenty of time to finish the game between now and Christmas."

It was a bright, crisp afternoon. Almost everybody hurried away to change for football.

"Where's Diggy?" asked Jack Vance, as he and Mugford strolled out to the junior playing field."

"Oh, he said he wasn't coming; he's stewing away at that stupid cipher. He can't find any word except 'the;' he'll never be able to read the thing."

It being a half-holiday, the games lasted a little longer than usual. At length, however, the signal was given to "cease fire," and a general cry of "Hold the ball!" put an end to the several contests.

The crowd of players were tramping across the paved playground, and surging through the archway into the quadrangle, when Jack Vance and Mugford were suddenly confronted by Diggory. He held some scraps of paper in his hand, and appeared to be greatly agitated.

"Come here," he cried, seizing each of them by the arm; "I've got something to show you."

"Well, what is it?" asked the other two. Their friend, however, would vouchsafe no further reply than, "Come here out of the way, and I'll tell you."

He dragged them along until they reached the deserted entrance to some of the classrooms; then, stopping and turning to them with an extraordinary look of mingled triumph, mystery, and excitement, exclaimed,—

"I've read the cipher!"

"Pooh! what of that?" answered Jack, rather annoyed at being taken so far out of his way for nothing. "I expect it isn't anything particular after all."

"It is, though," returned the other confidently; "and you'll say so too when you read it."

"Well, tell us first how you managed to find it out."

"That's just what I was going to do. You know I found that G was T, S was H, and V was E; well, I tried and tried, and I couldn't get any further. I wrote down the alphabet, and put V opposite E, and T opposite G, and S opposite H. I stared at it and stared at it, and all of a sudden—I don't know how I came to think of it—I noticed that E is the fifth letter from the beginning of the alphabet, and V is the fifth letter from the end. The same thing held good with the next letter: G was seventh from the beginning, and T was seventh from the end."

Diggory paused as though to see what effect this announcement would have on the faces of his friends.

"Well!" they exclaimed; "go on!"

"Why, then, I saw in a moment what they'd done: they'd simply transposed the whole alphabet—A. was Z, and Z was A!"

"Oh!" cried Jack Vance; "I see it now."

"Of course, it was as plain as print. I put the two alphabets side by side, one the right way and the other upside down, and I read the cipher in two minutes, and here's what you might call the translation."

As he spoke he held out a scrap of scribbling-paper. Jack Vance took it, and read as follows:—

"Meet in the 'gym' when the fellows pass on to supper. The two cans of water are standing inside the cupboard under the stairs."

Mugford stared at Jack Vance, and Jack stared at Diggory. "D'you see?" cried the latter eagerly.

"Yes."

"Well, what then?"

"Why, it must have something to do with this row about Browse."

"Of course: the fellows who did it didn't want, I suppose, to be seen talking together too much just before it happened, and so they invented this way of making their plans."

"But who can it be?" asked Mugford. "It seems to me it's just like one of those secret society things in Russia."

"So it is, and we must find out who they are," answered Diggory, smacking his lips with great relish. "We'll see once more what can be done by the Triple Alliance."

The more the three friends thought over the matter of the cipher letter, the more their curiosity and interest were excited.

"I believe it's either Noaks or Mouler," said Mugford; "they were both of them siding with Thurston, and trying to kick up a row at the meeting."

"Oh, they'd neither of them have the sense to invent a thing like this," answered Jack. "They may be in it, but there's some one else besides."

Diggory scouted the idea of letting any other boys share their secret. The honour of having discovered and exposed the plot must belong to the Triple Alliance alone, and it must be said that they had accomplished their task unaided by any outsiders.

That evening and the following day the greater portion of their free time was spent in discussing the great question as to what should be done. The cipher note evidently had direct connection with the attack on Browse, but the translation of the letter was in itself like finding a key without knowing the whereabouts of the lock which it fitted. The question was, by whom and for whom it had been written.

Afternoon school was just over, and the three friends were standing warming their feet on a hot-water pipe, discussing the likelihood of making any other discoveries which might tend to throw more light on the subject, when suddenly a happy thought entered the head of Jack Vance.

"Look here, Diggory. You said you found this note in a crack in the wall under one of the grub-room windows, and that you thought some fellows were using it as a sort of post-office. Well, have you been there to see if anything's been put there since?"

"No!" cried Diggory. "Good idea! I'll go now at once."

He walked quickly out of the room, and came back a few moments later at a run.

"I've got one!" he exclaimed, in a low, eager tone. "Don't let any one see; come to my desk."

The note this time was very brief:—

ZUGVIGVZFMWVIGSVKZE.

Diggory hastily fished out his double alphabet, wrote down the proper letters as Jack read out those on the paper, and in a few seconds the translation was complete, and read as follows:—

"After tea under the pav."

The three boys stared at it in silence.

"What does it mean?" asked Mugford.

"Why," cried Diggory excitedly, "I see. Something's going to happen after tea this evening in that place under the pavilion—you know where I mean?"

The other two nodded their heads. The pavilion at Ronleigh being raised some distance above the level of the field, there was a space between the floor and the ground used for storing whiting-buckets, goal-posts, and a number of forms, which were brought out on match-days to afford seats for visitors. The door of this den had no lock, and opened on the piece of waste turf at the back of the building. Small boys used it as a cave when playing brigands, and for so doing had their ears boxed by irate members of the Sports Committee. It was too low to admit of any one's moving about except in a stooping posture, and pitch dark unless the door was left wide open.

"What do you think it is?" said Mugford.

"I don't know," answered Diggory; "but I mean to go and see."

"If they catch you prying about, and find out that you've been watching them, you'll get an awful licking."

"I don't care if I do; I mean to go."

"Well, we'll go with you," said Jack Vance. "Remember it's the Triple Alliance, and we vowed always to stand by each other whatever happened."

"Yes," answered Diggory, "and so we will; but there's less chance of one being seen than three. No; I'll go alone."



CHAPTER XVIII.

A SECRET SOCIETY.

It was a clear, starlight night. Diggory was one of the first to leave the dining-hall, and, passing swiftly out of the quadrangle, was soon hurrying across the junior playing field. On reaching the pavilion, all was quiet and deserted, and he stood for a moment considering what should be his next step.

The thin hedge dividing the two playgrounds was by this time bare of leaves, and afforded no hiding-place; the only chance of concealment was to take shelter inside the den itself—a place which has already been described. This, however, seemed rather like venturing into the lion's mouth. What was going to happen? Would anything take place, or was it only a wild-goose chase after all?

"Here goes!" muttered Diggory to himself. He opened the door, pulling it to again after him as he crept inside; then taking a step forward in the pitchy darkness, promptly fell over a bucket with an appalling crash. Scrambling once more to his feet, he felt in his waistcoat pocket, and finding there a fusee which he remembered to have taken from a box owned by "Rats," he struck it, and by the aid of its feeble glare crept behind the heap of benches which lay piled up close to the opposite wall.

Hardly had he done so when there were a sound of footsteps and a murmur of conversation; the door was opened, and some one crept into the den. No sooner had the new-comer crossed the threshold than he stopped, sniffed audibly, and exclaimed,—

"Hullo! what a stink of fusees! Who's been here, I wonder?"

Diggory instantly recognized the voice as belonging to Noaks, and the sound of it brought a momentary recollection of the time when he and Jack Vance had lain concealed behind the hedge opposite to Horace House. His heart beat fast, and he vainly wished that he had had sufficient forethought to come provided with some ordinary matches. Several more boys entered, and one of them struck a light. Diggory, peering through an aperture in the pile of forms, saw at a glance who they were—Fletcher senior, Thurston, Noaks, and Hawley.

"There don't seem to be any one about," continued Noaks, peering into the corners; "yet it's rum there should be such a smell of fusees."

"I expect it was the man," said Thurston, producing a candle-end, and sticking it in an empty ginger-beer bottle which lay on the ground. "He was in here this afternoon after some of those old boxes, and I expect he lit his pipe. The smell is sure to hang about when the door's shut."

The four boys sat down on two upturned buckets and a couple of old hampers, with the candle in their midst, and Diggory gave vent to an inward sigh of relief.

"Well," began Thurston, "one reason we meet here to-night is because I wanted to explain to you fellows that we can't have any more of those pleasant little parties in my study—at all events, for the present. Until this row about Browse has blown over, every one'll be watching us like cats watching a mouse. We ought not to be seen speaking together, and that's where that cipher business that old Fletcher invented will come in jolly useful. We can say anything we want to without appearing to meet."

"By-the-bye," interrupted Noaks, "what became of that last note? Mouler told me about it, or I shouldn't have come. Some one had taken it away before I went to look."

"Perhaps it was Gull," answered Thurston. "Where is he?"

"He's got some turned work to do," answered Hawley.

"Mouler's outside keeping cave" added Noaks. "We thought it would be well for some one to keep a look-out in case anybody came."

"Well, what I was going to say," continued Thurston, "is, that for the present we'd better lie low, and not be seen going about together. It was a good thing Gull and I managed to turn the tables on Oaks at that inquiry; it would have been jolly awkward for the rest of you to have proved an alibi. Of course it was agreed that I should keep out of it, as it was a dead certainty they'd pounce down on me first; so I went and sat all the evening with old Smeaton. Ha, ha! the fool quite thought I meant it when I asked him to help me about my work. But I say, how did it come off? I haven't heard the particulars."

"Oh, simply enough," answered Hawley. "Noaks and Mouler and Gull and I did the trick; young Grundy's was the voice that told Browse to go down to the 'lab.' Grundy hung about at the top of the stairs, and as soon as he saw Browse come back and make for Allingford's study, he let us know the coast was clear, so we unlocked the door and skedaddled. Gull went straight away to the matron's room, and asked her to sew the two buttons on his waistcoat; he'd pulled them off on purpose. He is a cunning beggar, that Gull. Fancy his staying behind to light the reading-room gas, and telling Lucas he'd only just come! Why, he did more of the wrecking than any two of us put together."

"D'you think young Grundy's to be trusted?" asked Noaks.

"Oh yes," answered Hawley; "he's been on our side all along. He had a fight with young what's-his-name not long ago, about that skit on the Town match. Besides, I've told him that if it gets out that he had a hand in that Browse business, he'll be expelled. So he'll keep his mouth shut right enough."

"Oh, by-the-bye," cried Thurston, turning to his particular chum, "have you heard anything more about that poem of yours?"

Fletcher senior, who had been sitting all this time scowling in silence at the candle, answered shortly, "No."

"Hullo!" returned his friend, "what's the matter? You seem precious glum to-night. What's up? Are you going to chuck this business and turn good?"

"You asked me whether I'd heard anything more about that rhyme I wrote," answered the other, rousing himself, and speaking with a thrill of anger in his voice. "I say no, but I've seen a jolly lot."

"How d'you mean?"

"Why, there's not a fellow in the Sixth but gives me the cold shoulder. Allingford sets the example, and there's hardly one of them will give me a civil word. They'd like to oust me from the prefects like they did you, but they shan't, and, what's more, I'll get even chalks with some of them before I leave."

"Hear, hear!" exclaimed Thurston; "that's just what I say. And now the question is, what shall we do?"

"Nothing at present," answered the other. "We must wait until this affair's blown over. There's no need to run the risk of getting expelled; and, besides, we want some time to think of a plan."

The faint clang, ter-ang of a bell sounded across the playing field. Noaks and Hawley rose to their feet.

"'Prep!'" exclaimed the latter. "We must be off." A new cause for anxiety now presented itself to Diggory's mind in the thought that he would be late in taking his place in the big schoolroom. He knew that Noaks and Hawley would have to be in time for the assembly; but the two Sixth Form boys were not amenable to the same rule, and might linger behind.

Thurston, however, rose to his feet, blew out the candle, and the four conspirators groped their way in a body out through the low doorway.

Diggory waited until he thought they must have reached the school buildings, and then prepared to follow. The bell had stopped ringing some minutes, and without looking very carefully where he was going, he ran as fast as he could out of the match-ground, and across the junior field. Suddenly, right in front of him, and within fifty yards of the paved playground, a dark figure seemed all at once to rise out of the ground. It was Noaks! The latter had dropped a pencil-case, and had been left by his companions searching for it on his hands and knees.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, catching the small boy by the arm. "Who are you? and where have you been?"

"What's that to you?" answered Diggory boldly; "let me go."

The remembrance of that mysterious smell of a fusee flashed across Noaks's mind.

"Look here!" he cried sharply. "You tell me this moment where you've been."

"In the other field."

"What were you doing there?"

"Running."

There was a moment's silence. Noaks had a strong suspicion that the other knew something about the secret meeting; it was equally possible, however, that he did not. Young madcaps were often known to let off steam by careering wildly round the field after dark, and if this had really been the case in the present instance, it would be folly to say anything that should awaken suspicion. The big fellow hesitated; then a happy thought occurred to him: he dragged his captive across the paved playground, and stopping under the gas-lamp which lit up the archway leading into the quadrangle, began a hasty examination of the contents of the latter's pockets. There was no time to lose, and failing to find what he sought, Noaks gave the youngster a final shake, saying as he did so: "Look here, have you forgotten that coin robbery? Because, if you have, I haven't. I've got that knife still. Don't you fall foul of me, or you'll have reason to be sorry for it, d'you hear?"

The two boys ran quickly across to the big schoolroom, and entered just in time to take their seats before the master on duty called, "Silence!"

As might have been expected, none of the Triple Alliance put in an appearance at supper that evening; as a matter of fact, they were congregated in a quiet corner of the box-room, listening to a graphic account of Diggory's adventures. Noaks's threat about the pocket-knife revived all their former feelings of dread and uneasiness respecting their unfortunate expedition to The Hermitage, and there was a grave look upon their faces as the narrative concluded.

"You see," said Diggory, as he brought his story to a close, "the thing was this: he wasn't quite sure whether I knew anything or not, but he said that to frighten me in case I did."

"I don't see that we can do anything," began Mugford uneasily. "You say they aren't going to kick up any other row just yet, and it would be an awful thing if Noaks found it out, and sent my knife to the police."

"No, I don't see very well what I can do," answered Diggory. "Somehow it seems rather mean to hide away and then go and tell what you've overheard. I think it's best to leave it, and keep a sharp look-out and see what happens next."

"Fancy Fletcher inventing that cipher," said Jack Vance, "and being mixed up with that lot. He is a double-faced beast; it was just like him making that underhanded attack on the football team."

"Yes," added Mugford; "and fancy Gull being in both those rows, and making every one believe he wasn't! They must be a deep lot."

"So they are," answered Diggory complacently; "but they aren't a match for the Triple Alliance."

"I say, what made Noaks search your pockets?" asked Jack, as the three friends prepared to break up their "confab."

"Oh, for a long time I couldn't imagine, and then all of a sudden I thought why it was. Don't you see, he wanted to find if I had any more fusees. My stars, I was glad 'Rats' had only given me one instead of the box!"



CHAPTER XIX.

A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.

The firmest friendships, we are told, have been formed in mutual adversity; and among the many trials which served to strengthen and confirm the loyalty and unity of the Triple Alliance, a string of minor disasters which overtook them one unlucky day early in December must certainly not be overlooked.

The after results of this chapter of accidents cause it to assume an additional importance as being the "beginning of the end," alike of this narrative and of an eventful period in the history of Ronleigh College. The reader will understand, therefore, that in turning our attention for a short time to an account of the afore-mentioned misfortune of the three friends, we are not wandering from what might be called the main line of our story.

"It all came about," so said Jack Vance, "through Carton's having the cheek to go home some ten days before proper time." The latter certainly did, for one reason or another, leave Ronleigh on Wednesday, the eleventh of December; and by his own special request, our three friends came down to the station to see him off.

"Have you got anything to read going along?" asked Diggory, as they stood lingering round the carriage door.

"Yes," answered Carton. "Look here, you fellows, you might get in and sit round the window till the train starts; it'll keep other people from getting in, and I shall have the place to myself."

The Triple Alliance did as they were requested.

"Aha, my boys!" continued Carton, rubbing his hands together, "when you're stewing away in 'prep' this evening, think of me at home eating a rattling good tea, and no more work to prepare after it for old Greyling."

"Oh, rubbish!" cried Jack. "I wouldn't go now even if I had the chance. Why, you'll miss all the fun of breaking up; and young 'Rats' is making up a party to fill a carriage, and we're going to have a fine spree. Then by the time we get home for Christmas it'll be all stale to you. Pshaw! I wouldn't—hullo!—here, stop a minute!—why, she's off!"

Off she certainly was. There had been a sharp chirrup of the whistle, and at almost the same moment the train began to move. Diggory tried to let down the window to get at the handle of the door; but the sash worked stiffly, and before he succeeded in making it drop, the train had run the length of the platform, and the station was left behind.

The four boys gazed at one another for a moment in blank astonishment, and then burst into a simultaneous roar of laughter.

"You'll have to go as far as Chatton now," said Carton. "Never mind; you can get back by the next train."

"Yes; but the question is if we've got any money," answered Jack Vance ruefully. "It's fourpence the single journey, so the fare there and back for three of us'll be two bob. Here's threepence; that's all the tin I'm worth.—what have you got, Diggy?"

"Four halfpenny stamps, and half a frank on my watch-chain," was the reply. "But I don't think these railway Johnnies 'ud take either of those."

On examination, the only articles of value Mugford's pockets were found to contain were an aluminium pencil-case which wouldn't work, and a dirty scrap of indiarubber.

"Look here," cried Carton, "I'll give you two shillings. It's my fault; and I've got something over from my journey-money."

The offer was gladly accepted, and at length, when the train reached Chatton, the three chums wished their companion good-bye, laughing heartily over their unexpected journey.

"What time's the next train back to Ronleigh?" asked Jack, as he paid the money for their fare to the ticket-collector.

"Let's see," answered the official: "next train to Ronleigh—5.47."

Jack's face fell. "Isn't there any train before that?" he asked. "We've got to be back at the school by half-past five."

"Can't help that," returned the man; "next train from here to Ronleigh's 5.47. And," he added, encouragingly, "she's nearly always a bit late."

The boys wandered disconsolately through the booking-office of the little country station, and halted outside to consider what was to be done.

"It's five-and-twenty past four," said Jack Vance, looking at his watch, "and it's a good six miles by road; we shall never walk it in the time."

"It's a good bit shorter by rail," mused Diggory, "if we could walk along the line. That tunnel under Arrow Hill cuts off a long round."

"We couldn't do that," said Mugford; "there are notice-boards all over the shop saying that trespassers on the railway will be prosecuted."

"Oh, bother that," cried Jack Vance, suddenly smitten with Diggory's idea. "Who cares for notice-boards? We'll go home along the line. If we trot every now and then, we shall get back in time."

"Well, we'd better walk along the road as far as that curve," said Diggory, "and then they won't see us from the station."

The trio started off in the direction indicated, hurrying along the permanent way, hopping over the sleepers, and seeing how far they could run on one of the metals without falling off. At length they entered a cutting, the steep banks of which rose gradually until they towered high above their heads on either hand. Before long the mouth of the tunnel was reached, and, as if by mutual consent, the three friends came to a halt.

There was something forbidding about the dark, gloomy entrance—the stale, smoky smell, and the damp dripping from the roof, all tending to give it a very uninviting aspect.

"It's awfully long," said Mugford; "don't you think we'd better turn back?"

In their secret hearts his two companions were more than half inclined to follow this suggestion; but there is a form of cowardice to which even the bravest are subject—namely, the fear of being thought afraid— and it was this, perhaps, which decided them to advance instead of retreat.

"Oh no, we won't go back," cried Diggory. "Come along; I'll go first." And so saying, he plunged forward into the deep shadow of the archway.

The ground seemed to be plentifully strewn with ashes, which scrunched under their feet as they plodded along, and their voices sounded hollow and strange.

"My eye," said Jack, "it's precious dark. I can hardly see where I'm going."

"It'll be darker still before we see the end," answered Diggory. "Some one was telling me the other day that there's a curve in the middle."

"Hadn't we better go back?" faltered Mugford.

"No, you fathead; shut up."

The darkness seemed to increase, and the silence grew oppressive.

The boys were walking in single file, Diggory leading, and Jack Vance bringing up the rear.

"I say," exclaimed the latter, as he stumbled over a sleeper, "I shouldn't like to be caught here by a train."

"That can't happen," retorted Diggory; "didn't you hear the man say there wasn't another till 5.47?"

"Yes," added Mugford; "but there might be a luggage, or one coming the other way."

"Well, all you'd have to do would be to cross over on to the other line."

Imperceptibly the boys quickened their pace until it became almost a trot.

"Hurrah!" cried Diggory, a few moments later, as a far-distant semicircle of daylight came into view. "There's the other end."

"Stop a minute," cried Jack, emboldened by the prospect of soon being once more in the fresh air; "let's see if we can make an echo."

The little party halted for a moment, but instead of hearing the shrill yell for the production of which Jack had just filled his lungs, their ears were greeted with a far more terrible sound, which caused their hearts to stop beating. There was, it seemed, a sudden boom, followed by a long, continuous roar. Diggory turned his head, to find the far-off patch of light replaced by a spark of fiery red, and the terrible truth flashed across his mind that in the excitement of the moment he could not remember for certain which was the down line.

It was well for the Triple Alliance that at least one of their number was blessed with the faculty of quick decision and prompt action, or the history of their friendship might have had a tragic ending.

Diggory wheeled round, and catching hold of Mugford, cried in a voice loud enough to be heard above the ever-increasing din, "Quick! get into the six-foot way, and lie down!"

What followed even those who underwent the experience could never clearly describe. They flung themselves upon the ground: there were the thundering roar of an earthquake, coupled with a deafening clatter, as though the whole place were falling about their ears, and a whirling hurricane of hot air and steam.

In ten seconds, which seemed like ten minutes, the whole thing had come and gone, and Diggory, scrambling to his feet in the dense darkness of the choking atmosphere, inquired in a shaky voice, "Are you all right, you chaps?"

There was a reply in the affirmative, and the three boys proceeded to grope their way along in silence, until the broad archway of the tunnel's mouth appeared through a fog of steam and smoke.

"I say, you fellows," cried Diggory, as they emerged into the fresh air, "I wouldn't go through there again for something."

"It was a good thing you gave me that shove," said Mugford; "I felt as though I couldn't move. And we were standing on the very line it went over."

"Yes: I couldn't remember for the moment which was 'up' and which was 'down.' I thought, too, we should be safer lying flat on the ground when it passed; had we stood up in the six-foot way, we might have got giddy and fallen under the wheels."

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by a strange voice shouting,—

"Hullo, you young beggars! what are you a-doing there?"

The boys turned to see from whence this inquiry proceeded. Half-way up the cutting on their left was a little hut, and beside it stood the man who had spoken. The same glance showed them another thing—namely, that just beside this little shanty was one of the notice-boards Mugford had mentioned, warning the public that persons found trespassing on the railway would be prosecuted.

"Come along," cried Jack Vance; "let's bolt."

Unless they doubled back into the tunnel, their only way of escape lay in scaling the right side of the cutting, as a short distance down the line a gang of platelayers were at work, who would have intercepted them before they reached the open country.

"Come along," repeated Jack Vance, and the next moment he and his two companions were clambering as fast as they could up the steep side of the embankment, clutching at bushes and tufts of grass, and causing miniature landslips of sand and gravel with every step they took.

The man shouted after them to stop, and seeing that they paid no attention to his commands, promptly gave chase, rushing down the narrow pathway from the hut, and scrambling after them up the opposite slope.

Jack Vance and Diggory, whose powers of wind and limb had benefited by constant exercise in the football field, were soon at the top; but Mugford, who was not inclined to be athletic, and who had already been pretty nearly pumped in hurrying out of the tunnel; was still slowly dragging himself up the ascent, panting and puffing like a steam-engine, when his comrades reached the summit.

His pursuer was gaining on him rapidly, and it was in vain that his two friends (too loyal to make good their escape alone) stood, and with frantic gestures urged him to quicker movement. Just, however, as the capture seemed certain, a great piece of loose earth giving way beneath the man's weight caused the latter to fall forward on his face. In this posture he tobogganed down the slope, with more force than elegance; and with a yell of triumph Jack and Diggory stretched out their hands, and dragged Mugford up to the level grassy plateau on which they stood.

Close behind them was a wood, and without a moment's hesitation they plunged through the hedge, and dashed on through the bushes. The dry twigs cracked, and the dead leaves rustled beneath their feet. Suddenly, not more than fifty yards away to their right, there was the loud explosion of a gun, and almost at the same instant a harsh-voice shouted: "Hi there—stop! Where are you going?"

"Oh," panted Jack, "it's one of the keepers! Run for all you're worth!"

The opposite edge of the wood was not far distant. The three youngsters rushed wildly on, and stumbling blindly over the boundary hedge, continued their mad gallop across a narrow field. Over another hedge, and they were in a sunken roadway. Then came the end. Mugford staggered over to the opposite bank, and falling down upon it with his hand pressed to his side, gasped out, "Awful stitch—can't go any further!"

Years afterwards, when the Triple Alliance met at an Old Boys' dinner, they laughed heartily in talking over this adventure; but there were no signs of mirth on any of their faces at the time it was happening. Then as Jack Vance and Diggory stood staring blankly at each other in the deepening winter twilight, they suddenly blossomed out into heroes— heroes, it is true, in flannel cricket-caps and turned-down collars, but heroes, at all events to my mind, as genuine in the spirit which prompted their action as those whose deeds are known in song and story. The barking of a dog in the field above showed that the keeper was following up their trail.

"Bun for it!" panted Mugford; "don't wait for me!"

"Shan't!" said Jack and Diggory in one voice; and the latter, sticking his hands in his trouser pockets, began to whistle.

"Go on!" cried Mugford.

"Shan't!" repeated his companions.

It was evident that the Triple Alliance would sink or swim together, and it so happened that by a piece of unexpected good fortune they were destined to realize the latter alternative. There was a clatter of wheels, the quick stamp of a fast-trotting horse, and a baker's cart came swinging round the corner. Diggory, whose wits never seemed to desert him at a critical moment, recognized it at once as belonging to the man who supplied the school, and springing forward he beckoned to the driver to stop, crying,—

"I say, give us a lift into Ronleigh, and we'll pay you a shilling. We belong to the college."

The man peered round the canvas covering, and at once recognized the boys' cap and crest.

"All right," he said. "Hop up; I'll find room for you somewhere."

The danger was past; with an audible sigh of relief the three youngsters clambered into the vehicle, and the next moment were bowling rapidly along in the direction of the town.

"I say," cried Jack, "this is a stroke of good luck. Why, we shall be back in time after all."

The remainder of their conversation was lost to the ears of the driver, but seemed to consist mainly of a series of attempts on the part of Mugford to say something, which were always interrupted by a chorus of groans, and shouts of "Shut up!" from his two companions.

At length the cart arrived at Ronleigh, and set down the three passengers at the corner of Broad Street, the principal thoroughfare; and here their adventures seemed to have terminated.

I say seemed, because, as a matter of fact, something still remains to be told in the history of this eventful day; but before proceeding to the close of the chapter, it will be well to say a word or two with regard to a certain person connected with it who is as yet unknown to the reader.

Ronleigh was fortunate in having a staff of masters who won the respect and confidence of the boys. Some poor-spirited fellows there are who will always abuse those set in authority over them; but at Ronleigh there was happily, on the whole, a mutual good understanding, such as might exist in a well and wisely disciplined regiment between officers and men.

Exceptions, however, prove the rule; and when at the commencement of the present winter term a new junior master had come to take charge of the Third Form, it was evident from the first that before long there would be trouble. Mr. Grice was a very short man, with a pompous, hectoring manner, which was, somehow, especially exasperating to fellows who stood a good head and shoulders taller than the master. His rule was founded on the fear of punishment, and the sceptre which he wielded was a small black note-book, in which he entered the names of all offenders with an accompanying "Hundred lines, Brown!" or "Write the lesson out after school, Smith." Lastly, Mr. Grice was not a gentleman. Boys, I know, pay little attention to the conventionalities, and are seldom found consulting books on etiquette; but those who have been well brought up, and accustomed at home to an air of refinement, are quick to detect ill-breeding and bad manners in those older than themselves, and who "ought to know better." So it came about that Mr. Grice was unpopular, and the boys in his class bemoaned their fate, and called him uncomplimentary nicknames.

We left the three friends standing at the corner of Broad Street. The church clock had just struck the quarter-past five, and by this time it was dark, though the street was lit up by the gas-lamps and the long rows of shop windows.

"I hope no one sees us," said Jack Vance. "I'm mud all over. We must look sharp, or we shall be late."

"Hullo!" exclaimed Diggory, "look out! Here's that wretched little Grice coming; there, he's stopped to look into the ironmonger's shop. We must dodge past him somehow, or he'll want to know where we've been."

The trio crossed quickly over to the opposite side of the street, and hurried off at full speed in the direction of the school.

All boys were supposed to be on the school premises by half-past five, and at that time the door leading to the outer world was locked by the prefect for the day.

Oaks, who happened to be on duty, was standing in the passage talking to Allingford when the three juveniles arrived, out of breath and flushed with running.

"Hullo, you kids! where have you been?" inquired the captain.

Diggory launched out into a brief description of their many adventures; Oaks laughed heartily. "Well," he said, pulling out his watch, "you've just got back in time; half a minute more, and you'd have been outside, my boys."

The prefect locked the door, and continuing his conversation with Allingford, started off down the passage. On reaching what was the main corridor on the ground floor, they paused for a moment, and stood warming their hands at the hot-water pipe, and it was while thus engaged that they were suddenly accosted by Mr. Grice, who bustled up to them in a great state of excitement.

"Are you on duty, Oaks?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have any boys come in late?"

"No, sir."

"Well, three boys passed me in the town; I think one of them was young Trevanock. I called to them to stop, but they took no notice. When they come in, you send than to me."

"They weren't late, sir," answered Oaks; "they came in about a minute ago."

"Oh, nonsense. I looked at my watch when I saw them in the town, and then it was five-and-twenty past; they couldn't have come up in five minutes. You must either have let them in, or not closed the door at the proper time."

Prefects at Ronleigh were not in the habit of being lectured as though they were lower-school boys. Oaks bit his lip.

"I closed the door on the stroke of half-past," he answered.

"Well, you say those boys came in about two minutes ago. By me it's now twenty to six, so they must have been late."

"They were in before half-past, sir; your watch must be wrong."

"Don't keep contradicting me, sir," said the master.

"We are supposed to work by the school clock, sir," interposed the captain.

"I'm not aware that I addressed any remark to you, Allingford," retorted Mr. Grice, rapidly losing all control of his temper. "You need make no further attempt to teach me the rules of the school; I flatter myself that I am sufficiently well versed in them already."

A crowd of idlers, attracted by the angry tones of the master's voice, had begun to collect in the passage, and the captain flushed to the roots of his hair at being thus taken to task in public.

"I merely said, sir, that we work by the school clock."

"And I say, hold your tongue, sir.—Oaks, remember you report those three boys for being late."

"I can't do that, sir," answered Oaks stolidly, "for they were in time."

Mr. Grice boiled over. "You are a very impertinent fellow," he cried. "I shall report you both to the doctor." And so saying, he turned on his heel and walked away.

There was a buzz of astonishment among the bystanders. The idea of a captain of Ronleigh being reported to the doctor was something novel indeed, and by the time the first bell rang for tea, a report of the collision between Mr. Grice and the prefects had spread all over the school.



CHAPTER XX.

SOWING THE WIND.

The passage of arms between Mr. Grice and the two prefects was eagerly discussed by boys of all ages. Exaggerated reports spread from mouth to mouth, each teller of the story adding to it some details drawn from his own imagination, until, away down in the Second Form, it was confidently asserted that Oaks had called Mr. Grice a "little tin monkey," and that Allingford had boxed the master's ears; which enormities would most certainly result in the expulsion of the two offenders.

As a matter of fact, the expected storm never burst. The first thing the doctor did on receiving Mr. Grice's complaint was to compare that gentleman's watch with his own. "Hum'" he said shortly, "I suppose you're aware that you are ten minutes fast?"

A few moments later Mr. Grice withdrew, looking rather crestfallen. As may be imagined, the result of his interview with the head-master was never made public, and in the meantime Ronleians old and young were expressing their high approval of the conduct of their captain and his lieutenant. The gilt was beginning to wear off the Thurstonian gingerbread, and sensible fellows, who could tell the difference between jewel and paste, were less inclined than ever to be led by the nose by such fellows as Gull and Hawley. Here was an instance in which the prefects had taken a stand against palpable injustice, and the action had caused the whole body to rise several pegs in everybody's estimation.

The near approach of the Wraxby football match caused a revival of good, honest public spirit. If only Ronleigh could beat the Grammar School this year at footer as well as at cricket, every one felt that their cup of joy would run over, and the champions who were to strive for the wished-for victory were naturally regarded, for the time being, as standing on more exalted ground than their fellows. Ever since the exposure of Fletcher senior as the author of "College v. Town," the poem had become a weapon turned against the writer and his party. Boys had gone to the bottom of the matter, and discovering the real reason of Thurston's absence from the team, had declared that a fellow who out of spite would refuse to give his services to uphold the honour of the school had forfeited all claim on their consideration or sympathy. Such was the state of popular feeling when, with the clang of the getting-up bell on Thursday morning, the twelfth of December, a day commenced fraught with unexpected episodes and situations closely affecting the interests of the Triple Alliance.

One might have thought that their adventures on the previous afternoon had afforded them sufficient excitement for at least one week; but these were destined to prove but the prelude to an event of still greater importance. The three friends went into school at nine o'clock, looking forlorn and miserable. Something, indeed, had happened to mar their happiness, and the cause of their depression was as follows:—

Soon after breakfast, when the contents of the post-bag had been distributed as usual, Mugford accosted his two chums, who were strolling up and down the quadrangle. A look of abject misery was on his face, and in his hand he held an open letter.

"Hullo!" cried Jack Vance; "what's up? You look as if you had lost a sovereign and found sixpence!"

"Matter enough," murmured Mugford, whose heart was evidently in his mouth: "I'm going to leave."

"Going to leave!" exclaimed Diggory; "what ever d'you mean?"

"Well, I don't mind telling you fellows," answered the other. "You know my guv'nor isn't well off, and he says he's lost money, and can't afford to keep me at Ronleigh. I know I'm no good, and you fellows'll get on all right without me, and—"

The sentence not being completed, the two other boys glanced at the speaker's face, and from previous indications in the tone of his voice were not surprised to find that he was crying. Two years appear a long time when one is on the bright side of twenty, and the friendship seemed to have lasted for ages. At the near prospect of separation all Mugford's little failings were forgotten, and both Diggory and Jack Vance felt that life without him would be a blank.

"Oh, dash it all!" said the latter; "you mustn't go? Isn't there anything we can do? Shall I write to your guv'nor?"

The idea of Jack Vance addressing a remonstrance to his respected parent caused the ghost of a smile to appear on Mugford's doleful face.

"No, it's no good," he answered. "There's nothing for it; I shall have to leave."

During the interval which divided morning school and the free time before dinner the three friends mooned about together, trying in vain to regard the future in a more cheerful light, and to make plans for keeping touch of each other by an interchange of letters and a possible meeting in the holidays.

"It's all very well," said Jack Vance to Diggory, when late on in the afternoon he happened to come across the latter flattening his nose against the glass of the box-room window—"it's all very well talking about writing and all that; but this is the end of the Triple Alliance."

"Yes," answered Diggory, after a moment's thought, "I suppose it is. I wish we could do something more before it's broken up."

As he spoke, he passed his hand mechanically along the lower surface of the window ledge; then with a sudden exclamation he went down on his knees, and picked something out of the wall.

It was another note written in cipher!

The missive was certainly very brief, consisting of only seven letters:—

"GLMRTSG."

"Hullo!" said Jack Vance; "they're at it again!"

His companion made no reply, but taking out a pencil, copied the cipher on the back of an envelope, and then replaced the mysterious document in the crack between the window-frame and the bricks.

"What are you doing that for?"

"Why, because they may miss it, and smell a rat. Come on; let's get the key and see what it means."

In this instance the translation of the cryptograph did not occupy much time; Diggory produced his double alphabet, and soon spelt out the word:—

"To-night."

The two chums gazed at each other for a few moments in silence.

"What does it mean?" queried Jack.

"I don't know, unless it is that they are going to have another meeting after tea under the pavilion."

"Let's find Mug, and hear what he thinks."

In discussing their new find and attempting to solve its meaning, the three friends forgot for the time being the melancholy tidings they had received that morning, and gave themselves up to a full enjoyment of the mystery.

"I can't see," said Mugford, "that it means anything else than that they are going to have another meeting."

"Yes, that's it. I shall go down to the pavilion again after tea, and see what's up. I shouldn't wonder if there is going to be another row. Fletcher said he meant to do something before he left, and there isn't much time now before the end of the term."