THE STAR MISSING
Jack Symonds uttered a cry of amazement, and even Septimus was stirred
out of his usual calm.
"Not there!" repeated Jack. "Old fellow, are you certain? Surely it's
not gone already!"
Billy rose to his feet with a gesture of deep despair. "Look for
yourself, then," he said. "It's no go, Jack--I made certain before I
spoke. She's gone this time--and I expect gone for good."
"Don't say that, comrade!" urged Septimus, striking him on the
shoulder. "We got it back once, so why not again? Look here, there's--"
"Wait!" Jack interrupted him. "Ten to one it's that oily brute
Redisham! He had the thing in his pocket all the time we were speaking
to him. Oh, he's cool and all that, but I'm going along to ask him
right out what he's done with it! There!"
Septimus Patch pulled him back from the door. "No, no, Jack!" he
pleaded. "We've got no evidence that he's taken it, and if you went
along that way he'd just laugh in your face, that's what he'd do.
It looks to me as if he did pinch the Star, but--well, we can't do
anything to him; he's got the whip hand over us. We'll find another
way, never fear."
"But what way _is_ there?" objected Jack.
Patch did not reply, but stared out of the window in deep thought.
His eyes were narrowed to mere slits behind his great tortoise-shell
glasses. He rubbed his hands together nervously.
"Give me time--give me time," he asked. "There must be a better
way--let me think."
"And we're giving the beggar more time to hide it," said Billy Faraday.
"If he took it," said Septimus.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, just this. He must have been tremendously slick to have found the
hiding-place, secured the Star, and replaced everything as before! How
long could he have been in the room? Not long. Yet he had the nerve to
do all that, knowing that we might be back any minute. Besides, why
hadn't he gone when we arrived?"
"Why?"
"Seems to me he was just spying round. You remember he was standing in
front of our lockers. Supposing that he had found the Star where we hid
it. Would he be likely to hang round until we came? You can bet your
life he'd be off in a moment! Again, why replace the carpet and the
board? It only took longer, and delay was most dangerous for Redisham.
Put yourself in his place. If you'd found the Star, wouldn't you have
bolted right away? There'd be no sense in fixing up the carpet--your
big idea would be to make yourself scarce, see?"
"So you think the Star went before Redisham came here?"
"I think so, comrade. Perhaps it went last night, and, if so, we know
who took it!"
"Doctor Daw," murmured Jack.
"Of course, Monty Redisham is up to some dirty game or other. Quite
likely he's in Daw's debt, and Daw is using him as a tool. But if we go
to Redisham, and let him know we've suspected him to that extent, and
that we've been robbed, then he'll tell Daw everything."
"But what are we going to do about it?"
"Lie low. Redisham can wait--I've got a scheme for fixing him later,
getting him into a trap. But Daw's got to be watched--and watched
closely."
"Well?"
The schoolboy detective looked thoughtful. Then he spoke with
assurance. "Look here, comrades--Hullo, here's Fane!"
"What's the matter?" asked Fane immediately.
Patch explained, and then went on: "I was just going to suggest a
scheme. Jack heard Daw say that he wanted to stay on here at Deepwater.
Therefore, he's not likely to bolt with the Star, if he's got it. We'll
watch him, see where he goes, and while he's out one of us can ransack
his room. Probably, though, he has the Star on his person, and he'll be
anxious to get it across to Lazare or Humbolt. As soon as he does that,
we can have either of them arrested quietly, before they have time to
get far!"
"Otherwise?" queried Jack.
"Otherwise," said Patch quietly, "we'll have to go to the Head, tell
all we know, and trust to luck that we'll be able to outwit the brutes!
But you know how clumsy that notion is--the Head would almost want
written confessions and affidavits before he'd venture to arrest a
master! And Daw would swear black, blue and all colours that he'd never
seen the Star, and didn't want to. You see how hard it would be for us
to do anything?"
Accordingly a close watch was kept by one of the four pals on Doctor
Daw; but they had to admit that the man was a wonderfully good actor,
for he showed no signs of confusion or excitement, and remained indoors
for the greater part of the time. For two nights he did not go out.
One of these nights, however uneventful for Doctor Daw, was certainly
crammed with incident for Redisham. Patch had promised that he would
catch the greasy senior in a trap, and he held good his word. The
society of the Crees proved to be the instrument of his downfall.
During preparation one evening, Redisham was surprised by a knock on
his study door. Hastily extinguishing his cigarette, which, in flagrant
defiance of all rules, he was smoking, he called out, "Come in!"
A very small and innocent junior entered.
"Please, Redisham," he said, "Mr. Daw said he wants to see you outside
the Chemistry classroom door at once."
"What's that? Doctor--I mean Mr. Daw wants to see me now. Isn't he
taking prep. in Big School?"
"Well, he is, but he stepped outside for a few minutes, and sent me up
to find you. I think he only wants you for a moment."
"Confound him!" muttered Redisham, putting on his cap. "All right,
youngster--cut away."
The senior lumbered down the stairs, a big, awkward figure that moved
clumsily. It was nearly dark outside, but he distinguished the form of
Mr. Daw outside the chemistry-room.
As he approached, the master slipped into the porch, and beckoned
Redisham to follow.
"Come in here," he whispered. Inside, it was darker than ever. "Well,"
the master pursued, "and did you find it?"
Redisham shook his head. "No luck," he grumbled.
"Did you look?" said Daw cuttingly.
"Yes, I did! Honestly, I didn't have much time, but I looked hard
enough. The young blighters came back and found me in the room at that!"
"All right. But see me behind the gymnasium after lights-out, to-night.
I've found something--I want you."
Redisham uttered a grumbling protest. "I say, it's confoundedly risky
to be strolling round after lights-out. You've always got me doing it
now, and I'll be getting into trouble."
The master uttered a short laugh. "You'll be there, anyhow! And now
I've got to get back to preparation."
They parted; but Redisham would have been considerably startled to
have watched the master, who did not go back to Big School, but who
joined Symonds and Patch at the side of the chemistry-room, and shook
with laughter. Also, as all the juniors of Salmon's house could have
informed Redisham, Mr. Daw had undoubtedly been in Big School all the
evening, in charge of preparation. Two facts that might have caused him
some perturbation, had he been aware of them.
As it was, he walked into the trap laid for him as guilelessly as a
snared chicken. He strolled round after lights-out to the side of the
gymnasium, as directed by the bogus Doctor Daw, and waited, kicking his
heels for a good five minutes.
"The man's a thundering nuisance!" groaned the unfortunate senior,
looking round him. "Gee! What's that?"
His ejaculation had been drawn forth by the sight of a couple of men
who, dimly visible in the half-light, had appeared round the end of the
gymnasium.
Redisham wheeled round with a dismayed gasp, and prepared for flight.
But he remained where he was, rooted to the ground with horror. About
five similar dark forms had appeared quite silently behind him, and now
confronted him evilly. With a shock of dismay he perceived that they
wore black masks, and had their collars turned up about their ears.
"What--what d-do you w-want?" he said in a remarkably husky voice that
somehow would not obey him. Redisham was a bit of a diplomat at times,
but he had no physical courage. All his strength seemed to have left
his legs, and he shook like a leaf in a gale.
"Shurrup!" came the low retort in ruffianly tones, from the foremost of
the ugly-looking band. "Stow the lingo, or we'll throttle you! You one
of the school kids, hey?"
"Y-yes."
The miserable Redisham heard footsteps behind him, and knew that the
other two were close. He wished with all his heart that Daw would
arrive. He would have been a good deal less hopeful had he known that
Daw was, at that moment, asleep in bed. Suddenly he was bowled over by
his cowardly assailants, and gagged.
In approved bandit style he was trussed hand and foot, and a bandage
was finally tied over his eyes, completely excluding everything from
his sight. He groaned. What on earth had happened? He was being carried
by two of the men over rough country, and presently he lost count
of their steps. They went miles and miles, as it seemed; his heart
descended into his boots. He could already see himself tied up in a
sack and thrown into a lonely part of the river.
Suddenly the journey ended. As a matter of fact, he had been carried
five times round the playing-fields, with suitable changes of ground,
and the Crees had taken it in turns to lug him about, for he was of
no mean weight. They now entered Salmon's and on tiptoe brought their
prisoner into the boot-room.
Flat on the floor Redisham was laid, and the bandage was removed from
his eyes. An oil lamp guttered above his head, throwing a faint,
uncertain light that wavered to and fro, making everything indistinct.
Before him sat the most fearsome figure of the lot--a short, thick man
in a sweater and wearing a beard, who held a revolver in his hand--a
wicked-looking thing that sent a frightened shiver down the senior's
back. In point of fact, this was Billy's weapon, which he had brought
out of its concealment for the purpose; undeniably it gave a touch of
colour to the scene.
It was, as a matter of cold fact, unloaded; but Redisham in the depths
of his funk could not know that. He lay and stared up at it goggle-eyed.
"Now," said the leader of the gang of roughs, "you're miles away from
anyone here, so it's no use yelling. Get me? Take his mufflers off,
Snyder."
The man addressed as Snyder elevated himself out of the gloom and came
slowly forward. He undid the bandages that held Redisham in durance,
and the fear-stricken senior sat up, chafing his legs.
"See here, younker!" It was the awesome chief speaking again. "Are your
people worth much?"
"I--what do you mean?" spluttered Redisham.
"I means what I says!" said the fellow, in a low voice of concentrated
fury. "Answer up, an' look slippy, or perhaps my finger'll slip on this
'ere trigger, and--"
"Please d-don't shoot!" quavered Redisham. "Do you mean have my people
got much money?"
"Yes--have they?"
"Not very much--really."
"Crab apples!" cried the ferocious leader, angrily. "How much would
they hand out to get you back, you miserable worm?"
"To g-get me back?"
"To buy you back! Shiver my timbers, but you've got more talk than a
Madras monkey. How much ransom, hey? Five hundred?"
"I don't think so. Why, are you g-going--"
"Yes, my hearty, we're going to hold you to ransom!" came the
disconcerting answer. "Is the figure five hundred?"
"But that's to-too much," shivered Redisham, squirming on the floor
beneath the menace of the revolver, which the chief held in almost
playful fashion four inches from his left eye.
"Too much! I should say it was too much!" rejoined the other, with
promptness. "Five hundred for a bit of a puppy like you! Why, I'd not
give five hundred pence! I'd throw the main deck overboard before I'd
think of it! Wouldn't I?" he asked.
"I'm sure you would," said Redisham hurriedly.
"I expect your parents'll be downright glad to get rid of you, hey?"
"I--I suppose so."
"Well, belay my scuppers, if they don't part up with the boodle you'll
be shipped to South America, that's all!"
"S--south America?"
"South America I said! They buy men for ten pounds apiece, to work 'em
in the copper-mines. Think of it, hey! Workin' there year in, year out,
and never see this place any more! Lovely prospect, ain't it? Like the
idea?"
"N--no," said Redisham, to whom the idea did not appeal in the remotest
way.
"Gr-r-rr! Of course you don't! But if your old man don't pay up,
well--we'll have to get our tenner from you. Won't we, Snyder?"
"Sure," said Snyder. "But we'd only get eight for this goat--he's all
flabby, no muscle, no chest, no nothink! Jest skin an' bone, that's all
he is! Feel him!"
He did so, with his boot.
"That's so," agreed the chief. "He's just the spit of that bloke we
shipped last summer--the bloke that pegged out on the voyage. Remember?"
"You bet," answered Snyder tersely. "They had to sling him overboard,
and the sharks got the captain's tenner-worth! Just as well we got the
money first, hey, mates?"
The mates all responded with a low, sinister laugh that made Redisham's
blood run cold.
"See here," he pleaded. "Let me g-go!"
"Gr-r-rr!" snarled the chief. "Let you go! Likely, ain't it? Now, you
stay here while we go upstairs and write a little note to your old
man. You can add something that'll make them hurry up with the tin!"
"Or it's the South American mines for you!" grated Snyder, approaching
his face closely to Redisham's.
"And no funny business," added the chief warningly, taking the lamp and
looking back as he closed the door. "You stay here like a good kid, an'
remember it's no use singing out. Mind you're here when we come back
or--"
He touched the butt of his revolver significantly, and closed the door.
Dense darkness shut down on the miserable Redisham.
When he had waited twenty minutes in the same position, he was
under the impression that he had waited several hours. He had never
experienced anything like the dead, changeless silence that now
reigned. For what seemed an age there was no sound--not even the
smallest sound. And then, feeling that he would scream out if he did
not do something, he commenced to explore his surroundings. He collided
with an immense table, on which were piled boots--in incredible
quantities. He could make nothing of this mystery. At every stage it
became more and more weird. Boots! What could that mean? He was still
wondering when he barged into something solid, and it went over with
an ear-splitting crash. For some seconds there was silence. Then came
footsteps; the door opened.
"I wasn't trying to get out!" he protested feebly; and then his jaw
fell. The figure before him was Mr. Glenister, of Salmon's, and the
young master was carrying a candle!