"Is any one with the Doctor, Wrench?"
"No, sir," replied the man distantly, and he looked curiously at Glyn.
"Aren't you well this morning, sir?"
"Yes--no. Don't ask questions," cried the boy petulantly.
"All right, sir," said the man. "I don't want to ask no questions.
There's been too much of it lately. Suspicions and ugly looks, and the
rest of it. I'd have given warning the other day, only if I had, the
next thing would have been more suspicion and the police perhaps had in
to ask me why I wanted to go. Shall I ask the Doctor, sir, if he will
see you?"
"No," cried Glyn, and walking past the man he tapped at the study-door,
and in response to the Doctor's deep, "Come in," entered.
"What does this mean?" muttered Wrench. "I don't like listening; but if
I went there and put my ear to the keyhole I could catch every word; and
so sure as I did somebody would come into the hall and find me at it.
So I won't go. But what does it mean? Young Severn's found out all
about it, as sure as I stand here. Then it's one of the boys after all.
Well, I don't care about it as long as it ain't me or Sam, so I'll go
on with my work."
Meanwhile Glyn had entered, closed the door after him, and stood gazing
at the Doctor with a curious sensation in his breast that seemed to stop
all power of speaking connectedly, as he had meant to do when he had
obeyed the impulse to make a clean breast to his old preceptor.
"Well, Severn," said the Doctor gravely, as he laid down his pen, thrust
up his glasses till they were stopped by the stiff grey hair, and
allowed himself to sink back in his writing-chair, "you wish to speak to
me?"
"Yes, sir, please; I--" Glyn stopped short.
That was all that would come, so the Doctor waited for a few moments to
give him time to collect himself, and then with an encouraging smile:
"Are you unwell, my boy? Do you wish to see our physician?"
Glyn uttered a kind of gasp, and then, making a tremendous effort, the
power to speak returned, and he cried, "Oh no, sir; I am quite well,
only--only I am in great trouble, and I want to speak to you."
"Indeed!" said the Doctor gravely, as he placed his elbows upon the
table, joined his finger-tips, and looked over them rather sadly at his
visitor. "I am glad you have come, my boy," he continued gently, "for I
like my pupils to look up to me as if for the time being I stood in the
place of their parents. Now then, speak out. What is it? Some fresh
quarrel between you and Mr Slegge?"
"No, sir," cried Glyn. "It's about that dreadful business of Singh's
belt."
"Ah!" said the Doctor, rather more sharply. "You know something about
it?"
"Yes, sir. It's about that I have come. About people being wrongfully
suspected, and all the unpleasantry."
"Indeed!" said the Doctor, and he now spoke rather coldly. "You know,
Severn, where it is?"
"I--I think so, sir. Yes, sir," continued the boy, speaking more
firmly, "and I want to tell you all I do know."
The Doctor fixed his eyes rather sternly now, for a strange suspicion
was entering his mind, due to the boy's agitated manner and his
hesitating, half-reticent speech.
"Well," he said, "go on; and I beg, my boy, that you tell me everything
without reservation, though I am sorry, deeply grieved, that you should
have to come and speak to me like this."
Glyn seemed to breathe far more freely now, and as if the nervous
oppression at his breast had passed away.
"You see, sir," he began, "I have known all along that Singh had that
very valuable belt. It was his father's, and the Maharajah used to wear
it; and when he died my father took charge of it and all the Maharajah's
valuable jewels as well."
"Yes," said the Doctor slowly. "He was the late Prince's executor and
Singh's guardian."
"Yes, sir; and Singh was very eager to have it--oh, months and months
before we came over here to school, and my father used to smile at him
and tell him that he had far better not have it until he had grown
older, and asked him why he who was such a boy yet should want such a
rich ornament, and told him it was vanity. But Singh said it wasn't
that; it was because the people had been used to see his father wear it,
and that now he was dead and he had become Maharajah they would think
more of him and look up to him if he wore the belt himself. You see,
sir, Singh told me it was like being crowned."
"I see," said the Doctor gravely, and he kept his eyes fixed upon the
young speaker. "Go on."
"Well, sir, father always put him off, and Singh didn't like it, and
asked for it again and again; but my father would never let him have it
till we were coming slowly over here to England. We stopped for a month
in Ceylon, and when we sailed again to come here, one day Singh asked
father again to let him have it, so that he could wear the belt as soon
as we reached England. And then father said he should have it if he
would make a promise not to wear it unless he had to appear before the
Queen. Then he was to put it away again, and not make a parade of
himself in a country where the greatest people in the land were always
dressed in the plainest way."
"Your father spoke wisely and well, my boy," said the Doctor gravely.
"Great men do not depend upon show, but upon the jewels of worth and
wisdom with which they have adorned themselves in their careers. Well,
I repeat I am very glad you have come. Go on."
"Yes, sir," said Glyn, clearing his throat. "Singh promised father that
he would do exactly as he was told, and the next day my father told me
to try and keep Singh to his word. He said it would be very absurd now
that we were going among strangers and a lot of boys of our own ages if
Singh were tempted to make a show of the royal belt. `You be watchful,'
he said, `and help him when he seems weak, for he has naturally a good
deal of Eastern vanity and pride in him.'"
"Quite true," said the Doctor softly; "but he has improved wonderfully
since he has been here."
"Yes, sir; but every now and then he has bad fits, and has wanted to
show off; but I was always able to stop him. Then, you see, sir--"
Glyn broke down, and as he met the Doctor's steady gaze he seemed to
make effort after effort to proceed, but in vain.
"I told you, my boy," said the Doctor encouragingly, "to speak to me as
if I were your father."
"Yes, sir, I know," cried Glyn passionately, "and I want to speak out
plainly and clearly, but it won't come."
"Yes," said the Doctor gravely; "it will, my boy. Go on to the end."
"Yes, sir," cried Glyn. "Well, sir, there has been all this trouble
about the belt when it was missed out of Singh's box."
The Doctor bowed his head.
"I seem to have been able to think of nothing else, and I couldn't do my
lessons--I could hardly eat my meals--and at night I couldn't sleep for
thinking about the belt and what my father would say about it being
lost."
The Doctor bowed his head again very slowly and solemnly, and fixed his
eyes once more upon Glyn's flushed face.
"You see, sir, my father said so much to me about Singh being as it were
in my charge, and told me how he trusted in my example, and in me being
ready to give Singh a sensible word whenever he was disposed to do
anything not becoming to an English lad."
"Exactly, my boy," said the Doctor. "Your father is a worthy trustee of
this young ward, and it will be a terrible shock to him when he hears of
this--er--er--accident and the loss."
"Yes, sir, for you see, as he is the old Maharajah's executor, the royal
belt was in his care till Singh is old enough to be his own master; and
father will feel that he is to blame for giving way and letting Singh
have it so soon."
"Exactly," said the Doctor; "but, my boy, it seems to me that you are
rather wandering away from your purpose, and are not telling me
everything exactly as I should wish."
"It's because, sir, it won't come; something seems to stop me. But I am
trying, sir."
"Well, I believe you, my boy," said the Doctor. "Go on."
"Yes, sir. Well, I told you that I could hardly eat or sleep for
thinking about it."
The Doctor sighed.
"And it seemed so horrid, sir, that so many people should be suspected
for what one person alone must have done."
"Yes," said the Doctor, fixing him with his eyes again; and then as he
met the boy's frank, unblenching eyes his brow began to wear a curious
look of perplexity, and he disjoined the tips of his fingers, picked up
his quill-pen, and began slowly to litter the table-top by stripping off
the plume.
"Well, sir," continued Glyn, speaking very hurriedly now, "I have always
been dreaming about it, and waking up with starts, sir, fancying I heard
some one creeping into the room to get to Singh's box; and one night it
was so real that I seemed to hear some one go to Singh's bedside, take
out the keys from his pocket, crawl to his box, unlock it, and lift the
lid, and then shut it and lock it again. And I lay there, sir, with my
hands and face wet with perspiration, wanting to call out to Singh; but
I couldn't stir. But when all was silent again I crept out of bed and
went to his box to find the keys in it; and I opened it quickly and felt
inside, feeling sure that it was one of the boys who had stolen the belt
and who had repented and come and put it back again."
"And had he?" cried the Doctor, startled out of his grave calmness.
"No, sir; I think it was only my fancy. But I have been something like
that over and over again."
"Ah!" said the Doctor gravely once more. "The workings, my boy, of an
uneasy mind."
"Yes, sir, and that's what held me back from coming to you to speak
out."
"Go on," said the Doctor; "and speak plainly and to the point, my boy.
What more have you to say?"
"Only this, sir," cried Glyn huskily, "that the night before last I lay
awake for a long time, thinking and thinking about the belt and about
Singh lying there sleeping so easily and not troubling himself in the
least about the loss of the emeralds; and then all at once, when my head
was so hot with the worry that I felt as if I must get out and drink
some cold water.--I don't know how it was, but I began going over the
big cricket-match in the field, and it was as if it was the day before,
and I was fidgeting and fidgeting about the crowd there'd be, and a lot
of strangers walking about the grounds and perhaps finding their way
into the empty dormitories; and it all worried me so, sir, that it made
me think that somebody dishonest might go to Singh's box and carry off
the emeralds, and they would never be found again."
The Doctor leaned forward a little to gaze more fixedly in his pupil's
eyes. Then rising slowly, he reached over and placed his cool white
hand upon Glyn's forehead.
"Yes, sir," said the boy quickly, "it's hot--it's hot; but it comes like
that sometimes. I believe it's from thinking too much."
"Ah!" said the Doctor, subsiding again into his chair.
"Well, sir, I was so worried about the belt that I thought I wouldn't
say anything to Singh, but that I would take his keys, get out the case,
and bring it to you in the morning."
"Ah!" cried the Doctor excitedly now. "It would not have been right, my
boy. But you did not do that."
"No, sir," said the boy, with a bitter laugh; "for the next minute I
thought you would put it in your table-drawer, and that it wouldn't be
safe there, for strangers might come into this room, so I--" Glyn
stopped, and the Doctor waited patiently. "It seemed so weak and
foolish, sir," continued Glyn at last, after moistening his parched lips
with his tongue, "but I must tell you. I seemed to be obliged to do it.
I took out the case and went downstairs past all the boys' rooms, and
got out through the lecture-hall window to go across the playground to
the cricket-shed where the boys' lockers are, and there I opened our
locker and took out a ball of kite-string."
"Yes," said the Doctor. "Go on, go on."
"Then, sir, I came back across the playground and turned into the yard
to go into the well-house, where I tied the end of the kite-string round
the case very tightly and safely, and then leaned over and lifted one of
the flaps of the well lid--"
"And lowered the case down into the well?" cried the Doctor excitedly.
"Yes, sir," said Glyn; "and I could smell the cool, damp sides of the
place, and hear a faint dripping of the water as I let the string run
through my fingers, till at last the case splashed and it ran down more
slowly, seeming to jerk a little to and fro as a flat thing does when it
sinks, till I felt it touch the bottom. And then I leaned over to feel
for a place where I could tie the string to one of the loose bricks at
the side."
"But there are no loose bricks at the side, my boy," said the Doctor.
"No, sir," said the boy. "I couldn't feel one; and then all at once, as
I was feeling about, the ball slipped out of my fingers and fell below
with a splash."
"So that you could not pull the case up again?" cried the Doctor.
"Yes, sir," said Glyn very slowly, and looking at him in a peculiar
manner.
"And then," said the Doctor, "what did you do?"
"Nothing, sir," replied Glyn, "for just then the first bell rang."
"What?" exclaimed the Doctor.
"And I started up in bed, sir. It was all a dream."
"A dream!" cried the Doctor angrily. "Why, my good lad--"
"But it was all so real, sir, and I was thinking about it all day
yesterday, and that perhaps it's possible that I really did do it
walking in my sleep."
"Oh, impossible!" cried the Doctor.
"I don't know, sir," said the boy; "but you see, I might have done so."
"Well--yes, you might," said the Doctor slowly. "I did have a pupil
once who was troubled with somnambulism. He used to walk into the next
dormitory and scare the other boys.--Oh, but this is impossible!"
"I thought you'd say so, sir."
"Yes," said the Doctor, "impossible. Why, if it were true the belt must
have been lying at the bottom of the well ever since the cricket-match
weeks ago."
"Yes, sir, and I must have done it then in my sleep; and the night
before last I dreamed again what I dreamed before."
"Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated the Doctor, rising now from
his chair and beginning to walk to and fro excitedly. "Strange--most
strange, and I feel sceptical in the extreme. It must all be
imagination. An empty dream, brought about by the worry and anxiety of
this unfortunate loss. Well, I am glad you have come, my boy, and--er--
er--I must be frank with you. Your manner and the strangeness of your
words half made me think that you had come, urged by your conscience, to
make a confession of a very different kind."
Glyn started; his lips parted, and he looked wildly in the Doctor's
eyes.
"Don't look at me like that, my lad. Your manner suggested it, and I
cannot tell you how relieved I feel."
As the Doctor spoke he leaned over his writing-table and caught the
boy's hand in his, to press it warmly.
"But," he said, as he subsided once more into his chair, "this must be a
hallucination, an offspring of an overworked brain; and yet there are
strange things in connection with the mental organisation, and I feel as
if I ought to take some steps. What a relief it would be, my boy, to us
all, the clearing away of a load of ungenerous suspicion. But one word:
whom have you told of this?"
"No one, sir," said Glyn.
"Not even Mr Singh?"
"No, sir. I have been ever since yesterday thinking about what I ought
to do, and I came to the conclusion at last that I ought to come to you,
sir."
"Quite right, my boy; quite right."
"But it was very hard work, sir--very hard indeed."
"Yes, yes; so I suppose," said the Doctor thoughtfully; "and you have
placed a problem before me, my boy, that I feel is as difficult to
resolve. I am very, very glad that you have kept it in your own breast,
Severn; and the more I think of it the more I feel that it is only an
intangible vapour of the brain. But, all the same, the matter is so
mysterious and so important that I should not be doing my duty if I did
not have the well examined."
"You will, sir?" cried the boy eagerly.
"Yes, Severn, I will," said the Doctor firmly, "and at once. But this
must be a private matter between us two. Let those who like consider
the act eccentric; I shall have it done, and I look to you to take no
one else into your confidence over the matter."
"No, sir; I'll not say a word," cried Glyn. "But,"--he
hesitated--"but--"
"Well, Severn; speak out."
"If it all turns out fancy, all imagination, sir, you will not be
angry?"
"No, Severn, not in the least," said the Doctor, smiling. "Now go and
send Wrench to me."
As he spoke the Doctor turned and rang, with the consequence that Glyn
met the footman in the passage coming to answer the bell, and half an
hour later, when the boy made it his business to casually stroll towards
the well-house, he heard voices, and on looking in found Wrench, who had
changed his livery for an old pair of trousers and vest, talking to the
gardener and making plans for the emptying of the well.