While Pledge was dressing on the following morning, the Captain's fag
brought him a note.
"There's no answer," said the junior, tossing it down on the table, and
departing, whistling. Pledge opened it and read:--
"As you are determined to defy the rules, and make others do the same, I
send this note to say Heathcote is no longer your fag, and that you will
have to do without one for the future. I also wish to say that unless
you are prepared to abide by school rules, it will save trouble if you
send in your resignation as a monitor at once.--E. M."
His first impulse on reading this letter was to laugh, and toss the
paper contemptuously into the hearth. But on second thoughts, his
amusement changed to wrath, not quite unmixed with dismay.
He knew well enough last night, when he sent Heathcote out, that he was
bringing matters between himself and the Captain to an issue. And he
had been too curious to see what Mansfield's next move would be, to
calculate for himself on what it was likely to be. And now he felt
himself hit in his weakest point.
Not that the "Spider" was desperately in love with Heathcote. As long
as that volatile youth had owned his allegiance and proved amenable to
his influence, so long had Pledge liked the boy and set store by his
companionship.
But lately Heathcote had been coming out in an unsatisfactory light.
For no apparent reason he had upset all his patron's calculations, and
spoiled all his carefully arranged plans, by going over to Dick and
placing Pledge in the ridiculous position of a worsted rival to that
noisy young hero. And, as if that were not enough, he had let himself
be used by the Captain as a means of dealing a further blow. For, when
Pledge came to think of it, Heathcote had made prompt use of his new
liberty to absent himself from his senior's chamber that very morning.
He left his study door open, and watched the passage sharply for the
deserter.
He saw him at last, labouring under a huge pile of books, which he was
carrying to his new lord's study.
"Ah, Georgie!" cried Pledge, with studied friendliness, "you'll drop
that pile, if you try to carry all at once. Put some down here, and
make two loads of it. So you've been promoted to a new senior?"
"It's not my choice; Mansfield moved me," said Heathcote, feeling and
looking very uncomfortable.
"And I fancy I can hear the fervour with which you said, 'God bless you,
for saving me from Pledge, Mansfield,' when he moved you."
"I said nothing of the sort. I knew nothing about it, I tell you, till
he told me."
"Quite a delicious surprise. But you really mustn't be seen here," said
Pledge, with a sneer. "The holy ones will think I am luring you back to
perdition."
"I don't care what they say," said the boy.
"Oh, Georgie! How ungrateful! how sinful of you! Go to them. They may
even be able to tell you how to enjoy yourself in a police cell."
It was gratifying to the senior to see the gasp with which the boy
received this random shot.
"What do you mean?" faltered the latter.
"Really, hadn't you better ask Swinstead? He's your protector now. I
have no business to interfere."
"Do tell me what you mean?" said the boy, imploringly.
But just at that moment a step sounded in the passage outside, and
Mansfield entered the study.
Heathcote promptly vanished, and Pledge, face to face with his
antagonist, had something else to think about than Mr Webster's pencil.
The Captain, who had great faith in striking the iron while it is hot,
had come down on the heels of his letter, determined that if any
understanding was to be come to between him and Pledge, it should be
come to promptly.
"You've had my note?" said he.
"Really, Mansfield," began Pledge, "I've no doubt it's an honour to
receive a call from the Captain, but you seem to forget this is my
study, not your's."
"You sent Heathcote out last night on purpose," said Mansfield, ignoring
the protest, "and what I want to know now is whether you are going to
resign your monitorship or not?"
Pledge's eyes blazed out as he met the Captain's determined face and
cool eyes.
"You don't seem to have heard what I said?" he replied.
"I heard every word, and you heard my question?" answered the Captain.
"And suppose I don't choose to answer your question?"
"Then I'll answer it for you. If you choose to resign, you may. If you
don't--"
"Well?"
"You cease to be a monitor, all the same."
"Who says so?" asked Pledge, sharply, and with pale lips.
"I say so, as Captain here," said Mansfield, coolly.
"You! You're not Templeton. You may be a great man in your own eyes,
but you're only a schoolboy after all. I always understood Dr Winter
was head master here, and not the boy Mansfield."
"You prefer to appeal to Winter, then?"
"Dear me, no! Dr Winter is so well drilled into what he has to say and
do here, that it would be a pity to put him to unnecessary trouble."
"You can do as you like," said the Captain, drily. "There's to be a
monitors' meeting at twelve. If you like to come and resign, do so; or
if you like to come and hear your name taken off the list, you can."
And Mansfield turned on his heel, and went Pledge did not often fly into
a passion; but as he locked his door, and heard the Captain's steps
retreating down the passage, he gave vent to a fit of uncontrolled fury.
He was a coward. He knew it. He knew he dared not meet the enemy face
to face, and fight for his good name in Templeton. He knew everyone
hated him--everyone except, perhaps, Heathcote. And Heathcote was
drifting from him, too. Should he appeal to Winter? He dared not.
Should he let himself be expelled from the monitorship? If he could
have counted on any one who would feel an atom of regret at the step, he
might have faced it. But there was no one. Should he resign? and so
relieve the monitors of their difficulty, and own himself beaten? There
was nothing else to do. Of the three alternatives it was the least
dangerous. So he sat down and wrote:--
"Dear Mansfield,--As you appear to have set your mind upon my resigning
my monitorship, and as I am always anxious to oblige the disinterested
wishes of those who beg as a favour for what they know would come
without asking, I take the opportunity to carry out what I have long
contemplated, and beg to resign a post of which I have never been proud.
At the same time I must ask you to accept my resignation from the
Football Club, and the Harriers.--Yours truly, P. Pledge."
It was a paltry letter, and Pledge knew it. But he could not help
writing it, and only wished the words would show half the venom in which
his thoughts were steeped. The sentence about the Football Club and the
Harriers was a sudden inspiration. Templeton should have something to
regret in the loss of him. He knew they would find it hard to fill his
place in the fields, however easily they might do without him in school.
Mansfield read the letter contemptuously, as did all the monitors who
had the real good of Templeton at heart. A few pulled long faces, and
wondered how the Fifteen was to get on without its best halfback; but
altogether the Sixth breathed more freely for what had been done and
were glad Mansfield had taken upon himself a task which no one else
would have cared to undertake.
Meanwhile, our three heroes were spending an agitated Saturday half-
holiday.
For Dick had decided two days ago that his "Firm" would have to look
after Tom White.
"You know, you fellows," said he, "we're not exactly in it as far as his
pawning the boat goes, but then if we hadn't lost her, the row would
have never come on."
"And if he hadn't robbed us, we should never have interfered with the
boat."
"And if we hadn't gone to the Grandcourt match," said Dick, who was fond
of tracing events to their source, "he wouldn't have robbed us."
Whereat they left the pedigree of Tom White's "row" alone, and turned to
more practical business.
"What can we do?" said Georgie. "We can't get him off."
"We're bound to back him up, though, aren't we?"
"Oh, I suppose so, if we only knew how."
"Well, it strikes me we ought to turn up at the police court to-morrow,
and see how things go," said Dick.
The "Firm" adopted the motion. The next day was a half-holiday; and a
police court is always attractive to infant minds. And the presence of
a real excuse for attending made the expedition an absolute necessity.
As soon as Saturday school was over, therefore, and at the very time
when the Sixth were considering Pledge's "resignation," our three
heroes, having taken a good lunch, and armed themselves each with a
towel, in case there might be time for a "Tub" on the way back, sallied
forth arm-in-arm to back up Tom White.
They found, rather to their disgust, on reaching the police court, that
they were not the only Templetonians who had been attracted by the
prospect of seeing the honest mariner at the bar. Raggles and Duffield
were there before them, waiting for the public door to open, and greeted
them hilariously.
"What cheer?" cried Raggles. "Here's a go! Squash up, and we shall bag
the front pew. Duff's got five-penn'orth of chocolate creams, so we
shall be awfully snug."
This last announcement somewhat mollified the "Firm," who made up
affectionately to Duffield's. "Old Tom will get six months," said
Duffield, as soon as his bag of creams had completed its first circuit.
"Rough on him, ain't it?"
"I don't know. I say, it'll be rather a game if it turns out he stole
his own boat, won't it? Case of picking your own pocket, eh?"
"I don't know," said Dick. "I don't think he did steal it. But even if
he did, you see it didn't belong to him."
"It's a frightful jumble altogether," said Georgie. "I think law's a
beastly thing. If the pawnbroker chooses to _give_ money on the boat--"
"Oh, it's not the pawnbroker--it's the fellows the boat belonged to."
"But, I tell you, Tom's one of the fellows himself."
"Well, it's the other fellows."
"We may as well have another go of chocolates now, in case they get
squashed up going in," suggested Coote, who avoided the legal aspect of
the case.
The door opened at last, and our heroes, some of whom knew the ways of
the place, made a stampede over the forms and through the witness-box
into the front seat reserved for the use of the public, where they
spread themselves out luxuriously, and celebrated their achievement by a
further tax on the friendly Duffield's creams.
The court rapidly filled. The interest which Tom White's case had
evoked had grown into positive excitement since his arrest, and our
heroes had reason to congratulate themselves on their punctuality as
they saw the crowded forms behind them and the jostling group at the
door.
"There's Webster at the back; shall you nod to him?" asked Heathcote.
"Yes--better," said Dick, speaking for the "Firm."
Whereupon all three turned their backs on the bench and nodded cheerily
to Mr Webster, who never saw them, so busy was he in edging his way to
a seat.
Having discharged this public duty our heroes resumed their seats just
in time to witness the arrival of the usher of the court, followed by a
man in a wig, and a couple of reporters.
"It's getting hot, I say," said Dick, speaking more of his emotions than
of the state of the atmosphere.
It got hotter rapidly; for two of the Templeton police appeared on the
scene and looked hard at the front public bench. Then the solicitors'
seats filled up, and the magistrates' clerk bustled in to his table.
And before these alarming arrivals had well brought the perspiration to
our heroes' brows, the appearance of two magistrates on the bench sent
up the temperature to tropical.
"Order in the court!" cried the usher.
Whereupon Duffield, in his excitement, dropped a chocolate on the floor
and turned pale as if expecting immediate sentence of death.
However, the worst was now over. And when it appeared that the two
magistrates were bluff, good-humoured squires, who seemed to have no
particular spite against anybody, and believed everything the clerk told
them, the spirits of our heroes revived wonderfully, and Duffield's bag
travelled briskly in consequence.
To the relief of the "Firm," the first case was not Tom White's. It was
that of a vagrant who was charged with the heinous crimes of begging and
being unable to give an account of herself. The active and intelligent
police gave their evidence beautifully, and displayed an amount of
shrewdness and heroism in the taking up of this wretched outcast which
made every one wonder they were allowed to waste their talents in so
humble a sphere as Templeton.
The magistrates put their heads together for a few seconds, and then
summoned the clerk to put his head up, too, and the result of the
consultation was that the poor creature was ordered to be taken in at
the Union and cared for.
Duffield's bag was getting very light by the time this humane decision
was come to. Only one round was left, and that was deferred by mutual
consent when the clerk called out "Thomas White!"
Our heroes sat up in their seats and fixed their eyes on the dock.
In a moment Tom White, as rollicking as ever, but unusually sober, stood
in it, and gazed round the place in a half-dazed way.
As his eyes came down to the front public bench, our heroes' cheeks
flushed and their eyes looked straight in front of them.
Duffield and Raggles, on the contrary, being the victims of no pangs of
conscience, after looking hurriedly round to see that neither the
magistrates, the police, nor the usher observed them, winked recognition
at their old servant in distress.
This was too much for Dick. These two fellows who weren't "in it" at
all were backing Tom up in public, whereas his "Firm," who were in it,
and had come down for the express purpose of looking after the prisoner,
were doing nothing. "Better nod," he whispered.
And the "Firm" nodded, shyly but distinctly.
Tom White was not the sort of gentleman to cut his friends on an
occasion like this, and he, seeing himself thus noticed, and
recognising, in a vague sort of way, his patrons, favoured the front
public bench with five very pronounced nods, greatly to the
embarrassment of the young gentlemen there, and vastly to the
indignation of the police and officials of the court.
"Order there, or the court will be cleared!" cried the clerk, in a tone
of outraged propriety; "How dare you?"
Our heroes, not being in a position to answer the question by reason of
their tongues being glued to the roofs of their mouths, remained silent,
and tried as best they could to appear absorbed in the shape of their
own boots.
"If such a thing occurs again," persisted the clerk, "their worships
will take very serious notice of it."
"Their worships," who had not a ghost of an idea what the clerk was
talking about, said "very serious," and asked that the case might
proceed.
It proceeded, and under its cover our agitated heroes gradually raised
their countenances from their boots, and felt their hearts, which had
just now stood still, beating once more in their honest bosoms.
For any one not personally interested, the case was prosy enough.
A solicitor got up and said he appeared for Tom's three partners, who
charged him with pledging the _Martha_ and appropriating the money,
whereas the _Martha_ belonged to the four of them, and Tom had no right
to raise money on her except by mutual consent.
The three partners and the pawnbroker were put into the witness-box, and
gave their evidence in a lame sort of way.
Tom was invited to ask any questions he desired of the witnesses, and
said "Thank'ee, sir," to each offer. He had nothing that he "knowed of
to ask them. He was an unfortunate labouring man that had lost his
living, and he hoped gentlemen would remember him."
He accompanied this last appeal with a knowing look and grin at the
occupants of the front public bench, who immediately blushed like turkey
cocks, and again dropped their heads towards their boots.
"Have you anything to say about the disappearance of the boat?" said the
clerk, shuffling his notes.
"Only, your worship," said the solicitor, "that on the 4th of June last
the _Martha_ disappeared from her berth on the beach, and, as White
disappeared at the same time and refuses to give an account of himself
at that particular time, the prosecutors are convinced he removed the
boat himself."
In support of this very vague charge a policeman was called, who gave a
graphic account of the beauties of the moonlight on the night in
question, and of how he had seen, from his beat on the Parade, a figure
move stealthily across the sands to the place where White's boat was
supposed to be. He couldn't quite, swear that the figure was White or
that the boat was the _Martha_ but he didn't know who either could be if
they were not. The figure might have been a boy, but, as he was a
quarter of a mile off, he couldn't say. He never left his beat till one
in the morning. By that time the tide was in. He didn't actually see
Tom White row off in the _Martha_ but neither of them was to be seen in
Templeton next day.
After this piece of conclusive evidence the public looked at one another
and shook their heads, and thought what wonderful men the Templeton
police were for finding out things.
"Have you any questions to ask the witness?" demanded the clerk of Tom.
"Thank'ee, no, sir; it's all one to me," said Tom. "Bless yer! I never
knows nothing about it till a young gentleman says to me, 'They're after
you,' says he; 'scuttle off.' So I scuttled off. Bless you, sir, I
didn't know I was doing harm."
Under this thunderbolt Dick almost collapsed. Fortunately, Tom's short
memory kept him from recognising him in the matter any more than the
other occupants of the seat. He nodded generally to the young gentlemen
as a body--a most compromising nod, and one which included all five in
it meaning.