Templeton opened its eyes as it saw David and Jonathan walking together
across the fields that afternoon. The Den, with native quickness of
perception, instantly snuffed a battle in the air, and dogged the heels
of the champions with partisan shouts and cheers.
"Dick will finish him in a round and a half," shouted Raggles.
"Don't you be too cock-sure," cried Gosse, "Georgie's got a neat
'square-fender' on him, and I rather fancy him best myself."
Gosse had not the ghost of a notion what a "square-fender" was; nor had
anyone else. But the word carried weight, and there was a run on
Georgie accordingly.
Raggles, however, was not to be snuffed out too easily.
"Bah!" shouted he, "what's the use of a 'square-fender,' when Dick can
get down his 'postman's knock' over the top, and blink his man into
fits."
After that Georgie was nowhere. A fellow who can "blink" his man with a
"postman's knock," no matter what it means, is worth half-a-dozen
"square-fenders." And so Dick became a favourite, and the event was
considered as good as settled.
Which was just as well; for our heroes, as they walked in search of
Coote, could not be so engrossed either in their newly-healed alliance,
or in the affliction of their friend, as to be unaware of the commotion
at their heels. And it was not till Dick had ordered the foremost of
the procession to "hook it," enforcing his precept by one or two
impartially-distributed samples of his "postman's knock," that it dawned
on the Den there was to be no fight after all.
Whereupon they yapped off in disgust, with their noses in the air, in
search of some better sport.
Left to themselves, our heroes, with a strange mixture of joy and
anxiety in their hearts, broke into a trot, and presently sighted Coote.
That unhappy youth, little dreaming of the revolution which his scrape
was destined to effect in Templeton, was still sitting where Dick had
left him, ruefully meditating on his near prospect of incarceration.
The vision of Dick and Heathcote advancing upon him by no means tended
to allay the tumult of his feelings.
"I'm in for it now," groaned he to himself. "They're both going to
pitch into me for telling the other. What a mule I was ever to come to
Templeton."
But Dick's first words dispelled these gloomy forebodings effectually.
"Keep your pecker up, old man, Georgie and I are both going to back you
up. We'll pull you through somehow."
"I've got ten bob," said Georgie. "That's twenty-seven-and-six.
Perhaps he'll let you off the other half-crown."
Considering he had not abstracted the pencil at all, Coote inwardly
thought Mr Webster might forego this small balance, and be no loser.
And he half-hinted as much.
"It's an awful shame," said he, "not to believe my word. I really don't
see why we ought to stump up at all."
But this proposal by no means suited his ardent backers-up, who looked
upon the whole affair as providential, and by no means to be burked.
"Bound to do it," said Dick decisively. "Things look ugly against you,
you know, and it would be a terrible business if you got locked up. It
would cost less to square Webster then to bail you out; wouldn't it,
Georgie?"
"Rather!" said Georgie. "Besides, it looks awkward if it gets out that
you've been to prison.--Our 'Firm' oughtn't to get mixed up in that sort
of mess."
After this, Coote resigned all pretensions to the further direction of
his own defence, and left his case unreservedly in the hands of his two
honest partners.
They decided that very evening, with or without leave, to go down with
the twenty-seven-and-six to Mr Webster.
Dick was the only one of the three who got leave; but his two friends
considered the crisis one of such urgency that even without leave they
should brave all consequences and accompany him.
Mr Webster was in the act of putting up his shutters when the small
careworn procession halted before his door, and requested the favour of
an interview.
The bookseller was in a good temper. He had rather enjoyed the day's
adventure, and reckoned that the moral effect of his action would be
good. Besides, the looks of the culprit and his two friends fully
justified his suspicions. They had doubtless come to restore the
pencil, and plead for mercy. They should see that mercy was not kept in
stock in his shop, and would want some little trouble before it was to
be procured.
So he bade his visitors step inside, and state their business.
"We've come about the pencil, you know," said Dick, adopting a
conciliatory tone to begin with. "It's really a mistake, Webster.
Coote never took it."
"No. We've known Coote for years, and never knew him do such a thing,"
said Heathcote.
"And they've turned out every one of my pockets," said Coote, "and there
was no sign of it."
Mr Webster smiled serenely.
"Very pretty, young gentlemen; very pretty. When you have done joking,
perhaps, you'll give me what belongs to me."
"Hang it!" cried Dick, forgetting his suavity. "It's no joke, Webster.
I tell you, Coote never took the thing."
"You were here in the shop, of course, and saw him?" said the tradesman.
"No, I wasn't," said Dick; "you know that as well as I do."
"Coote," said Heathcote, feeling it his turn to back up--"Coote's a
gentleman; not a thief."
"I'm glad to hear that," said Mr Webster. "He's sure he's not both?"
"I'm positive," said Coote.
"And is that all you've come to say?" said the bookseller.
"No," said Dick. "It's an awful shame if you can't believe us. But if
you won't--well, we'd sooner pay you for the pencil and have done with
it."
Mr Webster was charmed. He had always imagined himself a sharp man and
he was sure of it now. For a minute or two the boys' joint
protestations of innocence had staggered his belief in Coote's guilt;
but this ingenuous offer convinced him he had been right after all.
"Oh, you didn't steal it, but you're going to pay for it, are you? Very
pretty! What do you think it was worth?"
"Thirty shillings," said Dick, "that was the price marked on it."
"And yet you never saw it."
"Of course I didn't," retorted Dick, beginning to feel hot. "I've told
you so twice--Coote saw it."
"Yes," said Coote, "there was a tiny label on it."
"We can't make up quite thirty shillings," said Heathcote; "but we've
got twenty-seven shillings and sixpence. I suppose you'll make that
do?"
"_Do_ you suppose I'll make it do?" said Mr Webster, beginning to feel
hot, too. "You think you can come to my shop, and pilfer my things like
so many young pickpockets; and then you have the impudence to come and
offer me part of the price to say nothing about it. No, thank you.
That's not my way of doing business."
"There's nothing else we can do," said Dick.
"Oh, yes, there is. You can march off to the lockup--all three of you
if you like; but one of you, anyhow. And so you will, as sure as I
stand here."
"Oh, Mr Webster, I say, please don't say that. He never took it,
really he didn't."
"Come, that'll do. Twelve o'clock to-morrow, unless I get the pencil,
you'll get a call from the police. Off you go. I've had enough of
you."
And the bookseller, whose temper had gradually been evaporating during
the visit, bustled our heroes out of the shop, and slammed the door
behind them.
"It's all up, old man," said Heathcote, lugubriously. "I did think the
cad would shut up for twenty-seven shillings and sixpence."
"I'm afraid he wants me more than the money," said Coote. "Whatever
_can_ I do?"
"You can't prove you didn't take it; that's the worst," said Dick.
"He can't prove I did. He only thinks I did. How I wish I _had_ that
stupid pencil."
With which original conclusion they returned to Templeton. Dick, under
cover of his _exeats_ marched ostentatiously in. The other two, in a
far more modest and shy manner, entered by their hands and knees, on
receipt of a signal from their leader that the coast was clear.
Heathcote deemed it prudent not to exhibit himself in the Den, and
therefore retired to Pledge's study as the place least likely to be
dangerous.
Pledge was there working.
"Hullo, youngster," said he, "what's been your little game this evening?
Been to a prayer meeting?"
"No," said Heathcote laconically.
It was no part of Pledge's manner to appear inquisitive. He saw there
was a mystery, and knew better than to appear in the slightest degree
anxious to solve it.
He had as yet heard nothing of the newly-formed alliance in low life,
and attributed Heathcote's uncommunicativeness either to shame for some
discreditable proceeding, or else to passing ill-humour. In either case
he reckoned on knowing all about it before long.
Heathcote was very uncomfortable. It had not occurred to him till just
now that Pledge would resent the return of his allegiance to Dick as an
act of insubordination. Not that that would keep him from Dick; but
Heathcote, who had hitherto admired his old patron as a friend, by no
means relished the idea of having him an enemy. He therefore felt that
the best thing he could do was to hold his tongue, and if, after all, a
row was to come, well--it would have to come.
He sat down to do his own preparation, and for half an hour neither
student broke the silence.
Then Pledge, who had never known his _protege_ silent for so long
together before, felt there must be something the matter which he ought
to be aware of.
So he leaned back in his chair and stretched himself.
"You're a nice boy, George!" said he, laughing; "you've been sitting
half an hour with your pen in your hand and haven't written a word."
Georgie coloured up.
"It's a stiff bit of prose," said he.
"So it seems. Suppose I do it for you?"
"No, thanks, Pledge," said the boy, who, without having any particular
horror of having his lessons done for him, did not like just now, when
he was conscious of having revolted against his senior, to accept
favours from him.
"No? It's true, then, Georgie is joining the elect and going to take
holy orders?"
"No, I'm not," said Georgie.
"Then Georgie is trying to be funny and not succeeding," said the
monitor, drily, returning to his own books.
Another silent quarter of an hour passed, and then the first bed bell
rang.
"Good-night," said Heathcote, gathering together his books.
"Good-night, dear boy!" said Pledge, with the red spots coming out on
his cheeks; "come down with me to the 'Tub' in the morning."
"I'm going down with another fellow," said Georgie, feeling his heart
bumping in his chest.
"Oh!" said the monitor, indifferently; "with a _very_ dear friend?--the
saintly Dick, for instance?"
"Yes," said Heathcote, and left the room.
Pledge sat motionless, watching the closed door for a full minute, and,
as he did so, an ugly look crept over his face, which it was well for
Heathcote he did not see. Then he turned mechanically to his books, and
buried himself in them for the rest of the evening.
The "Tub" next morning was crowded as usual, and it needed very little
penetration on Pledge's part to see that the triple alliance between our
three heroes was fast and serious.
They undressed on the same rock, they dived side by side from the
spring-board, they came above water at the same moment, they challenged
collectively any other three of the Den to meet them in mortal combat in
mid-Tub, and they ended up their performance by swimming solemnly in
from the open arm-in-arm, Coote, of course, being in the middle.
All this Pledge observed, and marked also their anxious looks and
hurried consultations as they dressed. He guessed that there must be
some matter of common interest which was just then acting as the pivot
on which the alliance turned, and his taste for scientific research
determined him, if possible, to discover it.
So when, after "Tub," the three friends marched arm-in-arm down town,
Pledge casually strolled the same way at a respectful distance.
It was clear the "Firm" was bound on a momentous and unpleasant errand.
Coote every other minute was convulsed by the brotherly claps which the
backers-up on either side bestowed upon him; and the long faces of all
three, as now and then they stopped and scrutinised the shop-window of
some silversmith or pawnbroker, betokened anything but content or high
spirits.
At length Pledge saw them enter very dejectedly at Mr Webster's door,
where, not being anxious to disturb them, he left them and took a short
turn down the shady side of High Street, within view of the stationer's
shop.
Their business was not protracted, for in about three minutes he saw
them emerge, with faces longer than ever, and turn their steps hurriedly
and dismally towards Templeton.
When they were out of sight, Pledge crossed the road and casually turned
in at Mr Webster's door.
"Well, Webster, anything new?"
"No, sir; nothing in your line, I'm afraid," said the shopman.
"By the way," said Pledge, carelessly, "was that my fag I saw coming out
here just now?"
"Mr Heathcote?" said Webster, frowning. "Yes, that was he, sir, and
two friends of his. I'm afraid he's getting into bad company, Mr
Pledge."
"Are you? What makes you think that?"
"It's an unpleasant matter altogether," said Mr Webster, "and likely to
be more so. The fact is, sir, I've been robbed."
And he proceeded to give Pledge an account of the loss of the pencil-
case, and of the efforts of the boys to get the matter hushed up.
Pledge heard it with an amused smile.
"They've just been here to try and buy me off," said the indignant
shopkeeper, "but I'm going to make an example of them. I'm sorry to do
it, Mr Pledge, but it's only fair to myself, isn't it, sir?"
"I don't know," said Pledge; "I don't see that it will do you much good.
You'd better leave it to me."
"Leave it to you?"
"Well, I expect I can get back your pencil as easily as you can, if
they've got it. You're sure they have got it?"
"I'm certain Master Coote took it; certain as I stand here. What
they've done with it among them I can't say."
"Well, don't be in a hurry. I'm a monitor, you know, and it's as much
to my interest to follow the thing up as to yours. If you'll take my
advice, you won't be in a hurry to prosecute. Wait a week."
"Very good, sir," said the bookseller, to whom it was really a relief to
postpone final action for a day or two, at least. If Pledge, meanwhile,
should succeed in bringing the culprit to book, it would still rest with
Mr Webster to decide whether to make an example of him or not Pledge
departed, and the bookseller turned to dust his shop out for the day.
In this occupation he had not proceeded far, when his brush, penetrating
into a crack in his counter, caused something within to rattle. Being a
tidy man, and not favouring dust or dirt of any sort, even out of sight,
he proceeded to probe the hole in order to clear away the obstruction,
when, to his amazement and consternation, he discovered, snugly lying in
the hollow, the lost pencil-case!
Mr Webster's first thought was, "Artful young rogues! They've brought
it back, and hidden it here to escape punishment!"
And yet, when he came to think of it, all the dust in that hole could
not have settled there during the last half-hour; nor--and he was sure
of this--had either of the boys, on their last two visits, been anywhere
near that side of his shop.
After all, he had "run his head against a stone wall," and narrowly
escaped ruining himself as far as Templeton was concerned. For he knew
the young gentlemen of that school well enough to be sure, after a
blunder like this, that the place would soon have become too hot to hold
him.
Mr Webster positively gasped at the thought of his narrow escape, and
forgot all about Pledge, and the culprit, and the culprit's friends, in
his self congratulation.
About mid-day, however, he was suddenly reminded of them all, by the
vision of Dick darting into the shop.
"Webster," said that youth, in tones of breathless entreaty, "_do_ let
us off this once! Coote really never took the pencil, and if you have
him taken up, it will be ruination! I shall get in a row for coming
down now, but I couldn't help. We'll do anything if you don't take
Coote up. I'll get my father to pay you what you like. Will you,
please, Webster?"
The boy delivered this appeal so rapidly and earnestly that Webster had
no time to stop him; but when Dick paused, he said:--
"Make yourself comfortable, Mr Richardson, I've found the pencil."
Dick literally shouted, as he sprang forward and seized the bookseller's
hand:--
"Found it! Oh, what a brick you are!"
"Yes; it had fallen into that hole, and I just turned it out. Lucky for
you and your friend it did. And I'm not sorry, either, for I'd no fancy
for putting any of you to trouble; but I was bound to protect myself,
you see."
"Of course, of course. You're a regular trump, Webster," cried Dick,
too delighted to feel at all critical of the way in which the bookseller
was extricating himself from his dilemma. "I'm so glad; so will they
be. Thanks, awfully, Webster. I say, I must get a _Templeton Observer_
for the good of the shop."
And he flung down a sixpence in the bigness of his heart, and taking the
newspaper, darted back to Templeton in a state of jubilation and
happiness, which made passers-by, as he rushed down the street, turn
round and look after him.
In ten minutes Coote and Heathcote were as radiant as he; and that
afternoon the Templeton "Tub" echoed with the boisterous glee of the
three heroes, as they played leap-frog with one another in the water,
and set the rocks almost aglow with the sunshine of their countenances.
But Nemesis is proverbially a cruel old lady. She sports with her
victims like a cat with a mouse. And just when the poor scared things,
having escaped one terrible swoop of her hand, take breath, she comes
down remorselessly with the other hand, and dashes away hope and breath
at a blow.
And so it fared with our unlucky heroes. No sooner had they escaped the
fangs of Mr Webster, than they found themselves writhing in the
clutches of a new terror, twice as bad and twice as awkward.
In the first flush of escape, Dick had crammed the _Templeton Observer_,
which he had paid sixpence for in celebration of the finding of the
pencil, into his pocket, and never given it another thought. During the
evening, however, having occasion to search the pocket for another of
its numerous contents, he came upon it, and drew it out.
"What's that--the _Templeton Observer_?" asked Heathcote, becoming
suddenly serious. "Anything in it?"
"I haven't looked," said Dick, becoming serious, too, and inwardly
anathematising the public press.
"May as well," said Heathcote.
"Perhaps there'll be something about the All England Tennis Cup in it,"
said Coote.
Dick opened the paper, and his jaw dropped at the first paragraph which
met his eye.
"Well," said Heathcote, reflecting his friend's consternation in his own
looks, "whatever is it?"
"Has Lawshaw won it, or Renford?" inquired Coote.