"Bolsover, _October_ 12.
"S. Halgrove, Esq.
"Dear Sir,--I regret to inform you that your ward, John Jeffreys, left
Bolsover secretly last night, and has not up to the present moment
returned. If he has returned to you, you will probably have learned by
this time the circumstances which led him to take the step he has.
(Here Mr Frampton briefly repeated the story of the football accident.)
The patient still lingers, although the doctors do not at present hold
out much hope of ultimate recovery. I am not inclined to credit the
statement current in the school with regard to the sad event, that the
injury done to the small boy was not wholly due to accident. Still,
under the grave circumstances, which are made all the more serious by
your ward's flight, I suggest to you that you should use your authority
to induce Jeffreys to return here--at any rate for as long as
Forrester's fate remains precarious; or, failing that, that you should
undertake, in the event of a legal inquiry being necessary, that he
shall be present if required.
"Faithfully yours,--
"T. Frampton."
"Pleasant letter, is it not?" said Mr Halgrove as Jeffreys replaced it
in its envelope and laid it again on the table.
"I can't go back to Bolsover," said he.
"No? You think you are not appreciated there?"
Jeffreys winced.
"But I will undertake to go there if--"
"If the coroner invites you, eh?"
"Yes," replied the boy.
"The slight difficulty about that is that it is I, not you, that am
asked to make the undertaking."
"But you will, won't you?" asked Jeffreys eagerly.
"I have the peculiarity of being rather particular about the people I
give undertakings for," said Mr Halgrove, flicking a speck of dust off
his sleeve; "it may be ridiculous, but I draw the line at homicide."
"You're a liar!" exclaimed the ward, in a burst of fury, which, however,
he repented of almost before the words had escaped him.
Mr Halgrove was not in the slightest degree disturbed by this undutiful
outbreak, but replied coolly,--
"In that case, you see, my undertaking would be worth nothing. No.
What do you say to replying to Mr Frampton's suggestion yourself?"
"I will write and tell him I will go whenever he wants me."
"The only objection to that," observed the guardian, "will be the
difficulty in giving him any precise address, will it not?"
Jeffreys winced again.
"You mean to turn me adrift?" said he bluntly.
"Your perception is excellent, my young friend."
"When?"
Mr Halgrove looked at his watch.
"I believe Mrs Jessop usually locks up about eleven. It would be a
pity to keep her up after that hour."
Jeffreys gulped down something like a sigh and turned to the door.
"Not going, are you?" said the guardian. "It's early yet."
"I am going," replied the ward quietly.
"By the way," said Mr Halgrove, as he reached the door, "by the way,
John--"
Jeffreys stopped with his hand on the latch.
"I was going to say," said the guardian, rising and looking for his
cigar-case, "that the little sum of money which was left by your father,
and invested for your benefit, has very unfortunately taken to itself
wings, owing to the failure of the undertaking in which it happened to
be invested. I have the papers here, and should like to show them to
you, if you can spare me five minutes."
Jeffreys knew nothing about money. Hitherto his school fees had been
paid, and a small regular allowance for pocket-money had been sent him
quarterly by his guardian. Now his guardian's announcement conveyed
little meaning to him beyond the fact that he had no money to count
upon. He never expected he would have; so he was not disappointed.
"I don't care to see the papers," he said.
"You are a philosopher, my friend," said his guardian. "But I have
sufficient interest in you, despite your financial difficulties, to
believe you might find this five-pound note of service on your travels."
"No, thank you," said Jeffreys, putting his hand behind his back.
"Don't mention it," said his guardian, returning it to his pocket.
"There is, when I come to think of it," added he, "a sovereign which
really belongs to you. It is the balance of your last quarter's
allowance, which I had been about to send to you this week. I would
advise you to take it."
"Is it really mine?"
"Pray come and look over the accounts. I should like to satisfy you."
"If it is really mine I will take it," said the boy.
"You are sensible," said his guardian, putting it into his hand. "You
are perfectly safe in taking it. It is yours. It will enable you to
buy a few postage stamps. I shall be interested to hear of your
success. Good-bye."
Jeffreys, ignoring the hand which was held out to him, walked silently
from the room. Mr Halgrove stood a moment and listened to the
retreating footsteps. Then he returned to his chair and rang the bell.
"Mrs Jessop," said he, "Mr Jeffreys is going on a journey. Will you
kindly see he has a good meal before starting?"
Mrs Jessop went upstairs and found Jeffreys writing a letter.
"Master says you're going a journey, sir."
"Yes. I shall be starting in half an hour."
"Can't you put it off till to-morrow, sir?"
"No, thanks. But I want to finish this letter."
"Well, sir, there'll be some supper for you in the parlour. It's
master's orders."
Jeffreys' letter was to Mr Frampton.
"Sir," he wrote, "I left Bolsover because I could not bear to be there
any longer. I did not mean to injure Forrester so awfully, though I was
wicked enough to have a spite against him. I am not a murderer, though
I am as bad as one. If I could do anything to help Forrester get better
I would come, but I should only make everything worse. My guardian has
turned me away, and I shall have to find employment. But the
housekeeper here, Mrs Jessop, will always know where I am, and send on
to me if I am wanted. I should not think of hiding away till I hear
that Forrester is better. If he dies I should not care to live, so I
should be only too glad to give myself up. I cannot come back to
Bolsover now, even if I wanted, as I have only a pound, and my guardian
tells me that is all the money I have in the world. Please write and
say if Forrester is better. I am too miserable to write more.
"Yours truly,--
"John Jeffreys."
Having finished this dismal letter, he packed up one or two of his
things in a small handbag and descended to the parlour. There he found
an ample supper provided for him by the tender-hearted Mrs Jessop, who
had a pretty shrewd guess as to the nature of the "journey" that her
master's ward was about to take. But Jeffreys was not hungry, and the
announcement that the meal was there by the "master's orders" turned him
against it.
"I can't eat anything, thank you," he said to Mrs Jessop, "you gave me
such a good tea only a little while ago."
"But you've a long journey, Master John. Is it a long journey, sir?"
"I don't know yet," he said. "But I want you to promise to send me on
any letter or message that comes, will you?"
"Where to?"
"To the head post-office, here."
"Here? Then you're not going out of York?"
"Not at first. I'll let you know when I go where to send on the
letters."
"Mr John," said the housekeeper, "the master's turned you away. Isn't
that it?"
"Perhaps he's got a reason for it. Good-bye, Mrs Jessop."
"Oh, but Mr John--"
But John interrupted her with a kiss on her motherly cheek, and next
moment was gone.