"Now, Gentlemen, the Upper Third. The following are elected:--
"Richardson."
Dick caught his breath and felt he dared not move a muscle. Pledge was
looking that way, and, as the boy's eyes and his enemy's met, the cheers
of the Den sounded feeble, and the shouts of the Firm were spiritless.
"Pauncefote."
Dick started again at this and shook off the spell that was upon him.
How dared Pauncefote come between him and his Firm? If fellows voted
for him--Dick--what on earth did they mean by not voting also for
Georgie and Coote? He faced defiantly round towards the reader and
waited for the next name.
"Smith."
Dick quailed as he listened to the mighty cheer with which Pauncefote
welcomed his chum into the realms of the Select. Pauncefote and Smith
were partners; they hunted in couples, they wrote novels together: and
here they were side by side, while the "Firm" was cruelly severed member
from member. Surely Nemesis was having a fling too many if this was her
doing!
"Heathcote."
"Ah! about time, too," thought Dick, as he raised his voice in a defiant
cheer. He'd like a quiet five minutes with the fellows who had dared to
pass his chum by in the voting. But, at any rate, Georgie was safe,
and, if only Coote came next, the "Firm" could afford to snap its
fingers at its constituents.
"Cazenove."
What! fat Cazenove jammed in between the "Firm" and its junior partner!
Dick and Georgie glared at him, scarcely able to repress a howl at the
sight of his smiling expanse of countenance. It had never occurred to
any of them that the ballot may part friends whom not even a sentence of
transportation could have severed, and they looked on, now more than
half bewildered, as the scrutineer read out the sixth name.
"For the sixth place," said he, "there appears to be a dead-heat.
Calverly and Coote have both the same number of votes. What's to be
done, mighty Lycurgus?"
"Say you retire!" shouted Dick to the astonished Calverly, on whom the
announcement had fallen with as much surprise as it had on his friends.
"Don't you do anything of the sort," shouted Gosse; "you're are as good
as that lot. Stick in!"
"Of course he will," shouted others.
So Calverly announced he would stick in, and Coote had better retire, a
suggestion Coote did not even condescend to notice. He was in his
"Firm's" hands, and the "Firm" were determined to fight the thing out
till they had not a toe to stand on.
"The simplest way," said Freckleton, "is to vote again for the two.
What do you say, gentlemen of the Den?"
"All right," roared the Den.
"What's it to be: ballot or show of hands?"
"Show of hands," shouted most of them.
"Do you agree to show of hands, you two," said Freckleton, "or would you
sooner have ballot?"
"I'd rather have show of hands," said Calverly.
"So would Coote," shouted Dick and Georgie.
"Then those who vote for Calverly hold up one hand," said Freckleton.
It was a big show, and the scrutineers, as they went from bench to
bench, counted 141.
"Now for Coote."
Every one could see it was a terribly close affair. As Dick and Georgie
scanned the benches, their hearts sank at the sight of so many not
voting.
"Another dead-heat, I expect," said Pauncefote.
The suggestion drove Dick almost frantic. Coote _must_ come in, or the
consequences would be awful.
"Now, you fellows," he cried, starting up and addressing Templeton
generally, as the scrutineers started on their rounds, "all together for
old Coote! Don't forget his trot with the Harriers!"
This simple election speech called forth a cheer, and, better still,
sent up two or three more hands.
Loud cries of "Order" from the top end of the room prevented any further
appeal, and amid dead silence the scrutineers finished their work.
"For Coote," announced the spokesman, "there are 146."
Then did the "Firm" go mad, and lose their heads. Then did they yell
till their throats were hoarse, and wave their hands till their arms
ached.
Then did they link arms, as they sat victorious, and forget the sorrows
of a term in that one paean of victory.
"Very close," they heard Freckleton say, as soon as order was restored.
"Are you satisfied, Calverly?"
Woe betide Calverly had he ventured to be otherwise!
"All right," he said, meekly, cowed by the mighty triumph of the "Firm."
"Then Coote is in," announced the scrutineers.
The election was over, and Freckleton was about to disperse the meeting,
when it was noticed Pledge was on his legs, trying to speak.
A low hiss and groan went round the Hall, but curiosity to hear what the
deposed monitor had to say at such a time restored order.
Three boys alone knew what it all meant, and their faces blanched, and
their limbs shook, as they looked out from their retreat and awaited
their fate.
"Perhaps," said Pledge, "as this is a public meeting, you will allow me,
though I have not the proud honour of being a 'Sociable,' and although I
believe I am not a monitor either, to ask a question. I assure you I do
it in the interests of Templeton, and of your immaculate Club. I don't
suppose any one will thank me for doing it, and I am glad to say I have
ceased to expect thanks. You may attribute any motive you like to me;
the worse it is, probably, the better you will be satisfied. I
certainly shall not trouble to tell you my motive, except that it is for
your good. All I want to ask is, whether this meeting is aware that
three members of the new Club are at this moment under the eyes of the
police, for a disgraceful act of theft committed in the town; and, if
so, whether you think that fact increases their claims to become members
of a Club which is to be a credit to Templeton?"
The speech was heard in dead silence. But as it closed, a storm broke
forth from all quarters of the Hall.
"Name! Sneak! Cad! Name!"
The angry spots blazed out in Pledge's cheeks as he faced the storm and
heard the cries.
"You want the names, do you? You think, perhaps, I do not dare to give
them. I do dare, though I stand here single-handed. The three boys are
Richardson, Heathcote, and Coote, and if you don't believe me, ask
them."
Another dead silence followed this announcement, and all eyes turned to
where the "Firm" sat, pale and quivering.
Before, however, they could say a word, Mansfield rose, and stepped up
on to the platform.
"Pledge has, for reasons best known to himself, charged three boys here
with theft. Unlike his usual manner, he makes the charge in public
before the whole school; and that being so, it is only fair the whole
school should hear from him and his witnesses, if he has any, what the
theft is."
The Captain's words were greeted with cries of approval from the
meeting, and every one turned now to Pledge.
He stood a moment irresolute, scowling at his arch-enemy, and longing to
be able to include him in the accusation he brought against his
_proteges_. Then, with a half-swagger, he stepped on to the platform.
"If the Captain thinks I'm afraid to do what he asks, he's mistaken. I
don't believe in hole-and-corner business. And as he has challenged me
to accuse his three young friends in public and bring my witness, I will
do both."
"What witness?" groaned Heathcote, in a whisper to Dick.
"Don't talk to me," hissed Dick, between his teeth.
"Go on," said Mansfield, to the accuser.
"Thank you. So I will. A fortnight ago, gentlemen, a small boy went
down to Templeton--"
"Wait!" interposed Mansfield, "we must have names. What boy?"
"A small boy named Coote," began Pledge.
Coote, at the sound of his name, half-bounded from his seat. He knew he
was "in it." But what on earth had any proceedings of his a fortnight
ago to do with the loss of the _Martha_?
"Went down to Templeton to a shop--"
"What shop?" demanded Mansfield.
"To Webster's shop," replied Pledge, beginning to be ruffled by the
Captain's determined manner.
The "Firm" started suddenly. Whatever was coming?
"While spending his time in the shop, the young gentleman, as young
gentlemen sometimes do, stole a silver pencil."
There was a pause, and every eye turned towards Coote, who gaped at the
announcement and stared at his partners as if he had been confronted
with a ghost.
On Dick's countenance a curious change was taking place. Horror had
already given way to bewilderment, and bewilderment was in turn giving
way to something which actually looked like a grin.
"The young gentleman," proceeded Pledge, "had two dear friends, called
Richardson and Heathcote, to whom he confided his stroke of business,
and who joined him in concealing or disposing of the stolen article."
Dick could remain silent no longer. To the horror of his Firm, and the
bewilderment of every one else--most of all, Pledge--he burst into a
laugh, which sounded weird in the dead silence.
"Order!" cried Mansfield, sternly. "Go on, Pledge."
"I heard of the theft from the--from Webster immediately after it
occurred, and for the last fortnight have been watching the culprits--"
Here he was interrupted by a hiss, which the Captain immediately
suppressed.
"And they have actually admitted their guilt in begging me not to tell
of them to you."