MR. MOORE’S THEORY
THE story, or a distorted version of it, was soon out. The housekeeper
hinted at strange doings at the office, and straightway rumor flew that
the big vault had been rifled of a thousand dollars. Eddy came home and
was examined by Mr. Moore; and his account of the interview, wormed out
of him by zealous questioners, set a new tale afloat so much worse than
the truth that the school authorities published the facts in sheer
self-defence.
The students seized upon the incident with avidity. Petty thefts from
gymnasium lockers had been known in previous years. Here for once was a
real burglary in their midst, with a mystery to be solved. The boys
attacked the problem tooth and nail, but their method was one of
hypothesis and discussion rather than of investigation. Some pictured a
masked burglar, operating in the dead of night. Others held dark
suspicions of Miss Devon. Still others advocated the view that it was a
sneak student who had in some way got into the room unobserved and
juggled with the knob of the safe until it had opened. For several weeks
after, doors whose bolts had not been shot since the year began, were
very carefully locked when bedtime came.
Among the first arguments introduced into the discussion was the example
of the safe at Morrison’s which Tompkins had opened so easily in the
fall. This suggestion was followed up among Tommy’s friends by a jocose
reminder that Tommy, who had been very short, was suddenly flush again.
Outside the circle of friends, the statement was repeated without the
character of jest. By the time it had made the circuit of the school, it
had acquired the addition that Tompkins was suspected of the robbery,
and that he was to be expelled as soon as Mr. Graham returned.
Sands brought the new version to Melvin with a worried expression on his
face. Tompkins was his second pitcher; he couldn’t afford to lose him.
Melvin carried the matter to Varrell; together they waited on Mr. Moore.
The acting Principal received them with his usual comprehensive smile,—a
smile that was typical of his general disposition. He was a bland,
benevolent, scholarly man, comfortably content in the consciousness of
his superior attainments as compared with those of the pupils under him,
“an easy marker and an easy mark,” and, of course, superficially
popular.
“There’s a story going around the school about Tompkins that we want to
protest against,” said Melvin. “It’s an absurd story, but it might do
him some harm.”
“What is the story?”
“Why, that he is suspected of breaking into the safe. He opened a safe
last fall at Morrison’s when no one else could, and he’s recently had a
present of some money from his uncle. I think that’s all the foundation
there was for the story. We just wanted to say that we saw the check
ourselves, and knew how he came by it, and that he isn’t at all the
fellow to do such a thing.”
“Dear me!” said Mr. Moore, in real surprise. “No, indeed! I never
dreamed of such a thing. I assure you, we haven’t the least suspicion of
Tompkins, or, indeed, of any other boy.”
“They say Eddy knew the combination,” said Varrell, who now spoke for
the first time.
“That is an unwarranted assumption,” replied Mr. Moore, warmly, “and
very unjust to the boy. I have convinced myself by questioning him that
he did not notice the combination; and he went to Boston immediately
afterward. He is a harmless little fellow, quite unequal to any double
dealing.”
“He associates a good deal with Bosworth,” said Melvin, struck with this
view of the harmlessness of Eddy’s occupations.
“Does he, indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Moore, in a pleased tone. “I am very
glad to hear it. It always does a little boy good to come under the
influence of an older boy of the right kind. Bosworth’s mother keeps a
boarding-house for students in Cambridge, and the son is very anxious to
be a credit to her and repay her for her sacrifices. I do not know a
neater, more attractive boy in my classes, nor one who does his work
better.”
Melvin gasped in astonishment. A book knocked off the table by Varrell’s
hand fell heavily to the floor, but it produced no effect upon him. “He
dresses pretty well for a poor boy,” blurted Dick, not knowing what to
say, and yet feeling that he must make some protest.
This answer touched one of Mr. Moore’s pet theories, and stirred up an
immediate reproof.
“You will pardon me, Melvin, if I term that a very unjust judgment.
Neatness and care with regard to one’s attire are habits decidedly worth
cultivating, whether one is rich or poor. It often happens that a poor
boy has friends who give him clothes a great deal better than he could
afford to buy. It is manifestly unfair and unkind to charge him with
extravagance until you know fully the facts in his case.”
“That’s very true, sir,” remarked Varrell, promptly. The tone drew
Melvin’s eyes to the speaker’s face. In reply he got a fierce look that
shut him up like an oyster.
“Was that all?” inquired Mr. Moore, glancing at the clock.
“Yes, sir,” replied Varrell, as the boys rose. “We only wanted to tell
you about Tompkins.”
“You may be reassured on that point. Neither he nor any other boy is
suspected. The thief must have been a professional, but the whole affair
is a mystery which we shall probably never solve. Thank you for coming
to see me.”
Once outside, the conversation between the two boys waxed warm.
“Dick, you certainly are the limit!”
“What now?” asked Melvin.
“What did you want to lug Bosworth into the conversation for? Don’t you
know he’s a particular favorite of Moore’s?”
“No.”
“Well, if you took German, you would. Bosworth’s mother was a German,
and he knows German ’most as well as he does English,—makes rushes all
the time.”
“I can’t be blamed for not knowing that.”
“Perhaps not, but you need not have connected him with the robbery.”
“I didn’t,” protested Dick; “I just connected him with Eddy.”
“Well, Eddy with the safe and Bosworth with Eddy, it’s all the same,”
returned Varrell. “If Grim had been there, you wouldn’t have got out of
it so easily. He’d have turned you inside out in no time.”
“But there wasn’t anything more inside me than out,” said Dick,
perplexed.
“No, I’m afraid not,” rejoined Varrell with a sigh. “I say, Dick, who do
you really think took that money?”
“I don’t know anything about it. Perhaps a professional, as Moore says.”
Varrell laughed aloud. “And he thinks some rich friend probably gave
Bosworth his clothes. I know better. I saw the box in which his last
suit came at the express office, and it was from one of the most
expensive tailors in Boston. It arrived two days after the safe was
broken into, and he paid the bill in cash. What does that suggest to
you?”
“Why, that as a deserving poor student he is a fraud.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Supposing I add that the clothes were ordered three weeks ago, before
Tommy very unexpectedly cleaned him out.”
Dick still looked puzzled.
“And when Tommy was through with him, he had this suit coming, and
probably other bills too, and no money to pay them with, unless he could
get some suddenly.”
Melvin stopped and looked blankly at his companion. “Do you really mean
that you think Bosworth broke into the safe?”
Varrell nodded.
“What an insane idea! How could he do it?”
“Every one seems insane to a lunatic,” answered Varrell, sharply. “If
you aren’t crazy, you are at least too stupid to live with sane people.
Can’t you see how he might have been able to do it? Just think.”
Dick pondered a moment and then lost his patience.
“No, I can’t, nor any one else,” he answered hotly. “Bosworth is a bad
lot and a school fraud and capable of almost any ordinary meanness, but
that doesn’t make him a burglar or a murderer. Perhaps if he’d tripped
me up in the hockey game instead of you, I might have a different
opinion.”
Varrell laughed with the satisfied air of one who knows that he has the
better end of the argument. “You’re wrong there, Dicky old boy,” he
said, clapping his irate friend cordially on the shoulder. “You could
forgive him far more easily for tripping you than for tripping me. I
know you better than you do yourself.”
“All the same, I don’t see any connection between Bosworth and the safe
breaking.”
“Well, listen. Eddy stood behind Miss Devon in the office when she was
working on the lock. He saw the combination and told Bosworth of it when
he was in Bosworth’s room about half-past nine. I know he was there
then, for I saw him there from my window. This suggested to Bosworth an
easy way in which to make good his losses and pay for the clothes,—as he
certainly did pay a few days after. That, I believe, was the course of
events, but I can furnish no evidence, and I don’t see how any can be
furnished, unless Eddy can be made to squeal.”
“What about the check?”
“He probably burned that.”
They stood at the point at which their ways parted. Melvin was thinking
hard and kicking the gravel recklessly with his foot. A squall of dust
and stones struck his companion in the knee.
“Come, let up on that!” said Varrell, brushing off his trousers with a
show of indignation. “Can’t you think without using your feet? There are
disadvantages in this football training of yours.”
“Excuse me,” laughed Melvin. “You remind me of Bosworth in your ‘care
with regard to your attire,’ as Moore put it. That last kick quite
cleared my mind. I don’t doubt that Bosworth is bad enough to take money
from a safe, if he needed it and there were no chance of being found
out. If in this case he was able to do it, and afterward had money to
pay his bills with, the presumption in our minds is against him, and
that’s all. We haven’t any proof and aren’t likely to get any. Tommy
isn’t suspected and we aren’t suspected. So what business is it of ours,
or what could we do if it were our business?”
“First answer me a couple of questions,” said Varrell. “Why did you go
to Bosworth and threaten him as you did?”
“Because he was doing a lot of harm in school, and that was the only way
to stop it.”
“And now you’ve stopped the poker-playing, do you think he’s a fit
fellow to stay here?”
“No, he’s probably bad in other ways and will do more harm before he’s
through, but I don’t know about that, and I did know about the gambling
with the little boys.”
“And I do know about this,” added Varrell, decidedly. “In the first
place, he’s got hold of Eddy again and made him lie to Moore about the
safe combination. I saw him in Bosworth’s room that Saturday morning
talking about it.”
“There you go off the track again!” laughed Dick. “You _saw_ him in
Bosworth’s room; you _guessed_ he was talking about the safe. The only
thing there of any consequence at all is what you really saw.”
A look of annoyance settled on Varrell’s face. “Look here, Dick,” he
began, as if he had something important to say. Then suddenly changing
his tone, he added significantly: “You’re right, the only thing of
consequence is what I saw. Some people see more than others,” and
sheered off abruptly toward his room.
“What a queer chap Wrenn is!” mused Dick, as he lazily climbed the
dormitory stairs. “Sometimes he’s as keen as a razor; at others he gets
an idea fixed in his head, and you can’t knock it out with a club. I
hope he won’t get his mind set on this safe business.”
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